For the Rest of Mine
Thank the God he didn't believe in that Sam was out food shopping when the freakin' bomb dropped. Their human weakness of needing food (And beer. Lots and lots of beer) would keep what was already awkward and embarrassing from being downright mortifying.
Dean still wasn't sure how they'd gotten here. He and Cas had been bickering, then the bickering turned to arguing, he'd opened his big, stupid mouth, and then it all went screeching sideways down the fucking rabbit hole.
Speechless, he gawked at Cas, trying to process the words he thought he'd just heard. Surely he'd misunderstood, or Cas was making some colossal social blunder or a twisted joke. But when he looked up to find that familiar blue glare fixed on him so intently, he knew he hadn't misheard anything. There was no mistake.
“Aw, gee, Cas! Did I hurt your widdle feeeelings? Oh, what – now you're mad?” Dean's voice had oozed sarcasm. “And here I thought you were gonna love me for the rest of my life.”
“No, Dean!” Cas had bored into Dean's skull with his laser-focused glare. “I will love you for the rest of mine.”
What was he supposed to do with that? And what the everloving fuck had possessed him to say that to Cas in the first place? Sure, Dean didn't usually have much of a filter between his brain and his mouth, but seriously, where did that even come from?
Meanwhile, he still stood stupidly next to his shitty motel bed with his beer halfway to his slack jawed mouth.
Castiel, Angel of the Lord, apparently loved him. Him. Dean Freakin' Winchester.
For the rest of the angel's life.
What the hell?
Whoa, weren't angels effectively immortal? Shit, it was one thing for a human to proclaim their love would last forever. It was quite another when the being in love would actually live forever. And quite another thing still when the object of that love was him. He sucked in a sudden breath, his body having forgotten to do so as he stared at the angel across the room.
“Cas?” he asked weakly. Dean wanted to blame the swimming in his head on the alcohol, but he hadn't drunk that much. Yet. Holy shit. Holyshit holyshit holyfuckingshit.
A hint of uncertainty slipped into Cas's expression and the fierce gaze faltered. “You were not being literal. I've upset you. My apologies. I'll...go now.”
Cas froze where he stood, eyeing Dean cautiously and looking for all the world like he'd wing off to Jupiter at the first hint of anger.
But Dean wasn't angry, he was floored. And he had no friggin' clue what the hell to say now that he'd told the angel to stay. Did he want him to stay? He must, or he wouldn't have blurted it out like that. Right?
They stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Dean finally asked hoarsely, “What you just said. What did you mean?”
Cas's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean, what did I mean?”
“It ain't a trick question, Cas, Jesus!”
At Dean's sharp answer, the angel's body tensed again, as though his invisible wings had primed to take flight.
“Whoa!” Dean quickly brought up his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, wait! Wait a minute.” He set his beer on the nightstand and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face. He made a conscious effort to relax, hoping that might smooth Cas's obviously ruffled feathers. And maybe his own rattled nerves.
The tension in Cas's shoulders eased a tiny bit, but he was still giving Dean the side eye.
“Just tell me what you meant, man. Why did you say that?” Dean kept his voice low and even, trying to sound calm in spite of his churning stomach.
“Because... Because you needed to understand that my caring for you will not end after your death.”
Dean jabbed a finger in Cas's direction. “No. Nuh-uh, that's not what you said.”
“Yes, it is,” Cas insisted as his eyes darted around the room, like he didn't already have a built-in means of escape and was looking for a new one.
Dean took a breath to argue, but then held it. Did he really want to push this? If he backed off now, they could pretend it never happened.
Pfft. Yeah, right – and angels might fly out of his butt. Dean was the king of ignoring things he didn't want to think about, but this? There was no ignoring this.
“Yeah, okay, fine,” he conceded. “It's kind of what you said, but that's not what I meant, and you know it.”
There was another fragile moment where Dean expected Cas to vanish in a whoosh of air, but he didn't. Instead he answered stiffly, “I said... that I would love you for the rest of my life, not just the rest of yours.”
Dean hoped his nervous chuckle didn't sound as sickly as it felt. “Okay, so this is what? Brotherly love, right? Like how I feel about Sam?”
Cas just stared at him like a deer in a spotlight.
Dean's face flushed hot and his mouth went dry. “Something else?”
“Something else, yes. Something...” His head tilted as he studied Dean. “...more.”
Holy fucking shit. Fuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck.
Dean snatched up his beer and gulped the rest of it down. He was simply not equipped for this conversation. Way deep down, he had to admit that it shouldn't be a complete surprise – at least, he'd always known the two of them shared something unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Profound bond, Cas had called it. Sammy had given him so much shit for that one, and Dean had blown it off at the time. But it was true, even if he didn't know exactly what it meant.
But talking about it? Out loud? With Cas? Fuck.
He cleared his throat, but before he could come up with something to say, Cas spoke up.
“Dean,” he began, his gravel truck voice doing strange things to Dean's insides. Had Cas always sounded like that? His voice was rough and broken like he'd been having wild, screaming, animal sex all night long.
Dean closed his eyes tight to squeeze that thought right out of his head. Goddammit, he wasn't going to survive this little talk.
Cas continued, oblivious to the effect his freakin' sex voice was having on Dean. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. Perhaps you would prefer it if this conversation never happened?”
“What? No!” Dean blurted out. “Uh, why? Is that what you want? Pretend like nothing's changed?”
“Pretending wouldn't be necessary.” Cas shifted, looking uncomfortable. “If you wish, I could alter your memories.”
Dean's gut twisted. “Hell no!” He realized with a sudden shock that he really didn't want things to go back the way they were. He had no clue what was happening right now, but he didn't want to go back. “Don't you dare go mucking around in my head.”
“Then you do wish to pretend..?”
“Because there's no reason for anything to change between us.” Cas's eyes flicked up briefly to catch his gaze, then dropped back to the ugly brown carpet. “Unless you want it to.”
Unless Dean wanted things to change.
He fumbled that around in his brain for a second. Holy crap, did that mean what it sounded like? And if it did, was Cas asking him if--
All the insane thoughts that suddenly flickered through his mind were accompanied by arousal pooling in his gut. What the fuck? What was happening right now? And was the heater in this dump broken? Because it had gotten way too warm in here.
He really needed another beer. Or six. And damn, it was hot! He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple and under his collar.
Dean edged his way around the room to the mini-fridge and leaned down to open it up. Well, crap. There was only one more goddamn beer. He grabbed it and turned around to discover Cas all up in his personal bubble, his face just inches away.
“Shit!” Dean yelped, nearly dropping his last precious beer. “Dammit, Cas!”
But Cas didn't back off. Instead he gently removed the bottle from Dean's hand and placed it on the counter behind him.
“Cas? What are you doing?”
Deep blue eyes burned as they searched Dean's face, adding to the already unbearable heat in the room. Dean was suddenly struck with déjà vu, the intense regard taking him back to that dilapidated old barn and Castiel, scary as fuck Angel of the Lord, asking him what was the matter. Fear thrilled through him, much as it had then, but it was a whole different kind of fear now.
“Cas?” Fuck. Had his voice just cracked like a fucking teenager's?
Hearing his name spoken from Cas's lips like a prayer soaked in sex made Dean literally go weak in the knees. He hadn't even known that was a real thing that could happen. And even as his legs went rubbery, his cock was growing hard, eager and raring to go. And Jesus, did he just whimper?
“Dean. Tell me what you want.”
“What?” he asked faintly.
Cas tilted his head slightly and stared into Dean's soul. “Our relationship is at a pivotal point. You know how I feel about you, yet you don't want that knowledge erased. So tell me what you want from me, Dean.”
“Relationship?” Dean echoed. His brain wasn't working right. Arousal and confusion warred with each other as he tried to understand what Cas was asking.
“What happens next is up to you. I love you, Dean, and I wish to be with you in whatever capacity you're willing to accept. Tell me what you want from me.”
Dean felt panic starting to flicker at the edges of his mind. “I-- I don't--”
Cas cocked his head, eyes unfocused, as though listening to something Dean couldn't hear. Then he blinked and leaned even closer. Dean's heart raced and his cock throbbed insistently, but Cas didn't kiss him like he expected. Instead, Dean felt something brush against his side from his cheek to his torso and right down to his knee, whisper soft on his skin – as if his clothes weren't even there. He shivered and a noise escaped him, sounding embarrassingly like another whimper.
“What do you want? Think about it,” Cas rumbled.
And then he was gone.
The motel room door flew open with a bang and Sam barged in, arms loaded down with plastic bags full of takeout, snack food, and beer. “Hey, grab some of these, will you?”
“Uh, y-yeah,” Dean stuttered, then flushed as he realized he was sporting a raging boner. He snatched up two of the bags and quickly turned his back, stuffing the precious, precious beer into the fridge. He picked up the bottle Cas had taken from him before, opened it up, and downed half of it.
He sneaked a peek over his shoulder. Sam was facing away, pulling chips and nuts from the bags he'd dropped on the bed nearest the door, so Dean took the chance to slide into one of the chairs at the table, adjusting the crotch of his pants as he went. It was still a million degrees in here, but he couldn't do anything about the sweat or flushed face except hope that Sam wouldn't notice.
Sam turned to set the bag full of takeout boxes on the table along with one set of disposable chopsticks, a plastic fork, and a pile of paper napkins. “Dig in,” he said, folding his giant legs to settle into the opposite chair. “Hey! You didn't get me a beer, too?”
Dean wrapped a protective hand around the bottle in front of him. “What? Get your own, bitch!”
“Dude, I went out for the food,” Sam complained, but he levered himself up anyway to fetch his own beer.
They ate in silence. Sam destroyed several containers of Chinese, while Dean picked at his. All his attention was on the food in front of him, focusing on getting it from the box to the fork to his face. If he didn't, he was afraid everything spinning around in his head would all come tumbling out of his mouth. Even so, he was having a hard time choking the food down.
“Dean! Are you even listening to me?” Sam asked.
“Huh? Yeah. 'Course I am.”
“So you'll take care of that tomorrow while I hit the library? I'm almost positive this is a Woman in White, but I need to confirm it, and the local paper doesn't have online archives.”
Dean watched Sam talking at him, but the words weren't really registering. He nodded agreeably. “Right. Sure.”
Sam jammed his chopsticks sharply into his sweet and sour pork and sat back in his chair, bitch face in full effect. “Dean, what's going on with you tonight?”
“Did something happen while I was out?”
“No! I mean-- I have no idea what you're talking about.” Dean sulked as he shoveled his chow mein from one side of the box to the other and back again, picking out the nasty-ass water chestnuts.
“Sure you don't.”
Dean scowled. “Sarcastic much?”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “For crying out loud, Dean, you're all kinds of skittish, you're obviously not focused on the case, and you're not eating! Something's up. So what gives?”
Dropping the takeout box onto the table, Dean stood, relieved that his focus on food had mostly taken care of his boner problem. Mostly. “Maybe I'm not hungry, Sam. Ever think of that? Jesus! Goddamn third degree.” Grabbing his duffel bag, he headed for the bathroom. “I'm gonna go shower.”
But Dean tossed his bag to the floor in the middle of the tiny bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Leaning against it, he dropped his head back with a thunk and heaved a sigh. Maybe he actually would take a shower. Maybe it would help him get his head on straight.
He turned the water on to warm up, then put his hands on either side of the chipped sink and studied his reflection in the mirror, but it was just his same old face looking back. How the hell could an angel love him?
Holy shit. That had really, actually happened.
Castiel had said he loved him. Cas – his best friend other than Sam – loved him.
It was so damned overwhelming, he had no idea what to think, what to feel. Cas had referred to their 'relationship' being at a turning point. Did he mean, like, relationship relationship?
Panic edged in at the thought. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.
Maybe that's not what Cas had meant. What was love to an angel, anyway? Friendship? Devotion? Maybe it was something Dean couldn't even guess at – some kind of mystical mind meld or some damn thing. Maybe it didn't have anything at all to do with sex.
He thought it. He didn't mean to think it.
Squeezing his eyes tight, he tried forcing the images out, but it was too late.
Cas shoving him up against a wall. His stubble rough against Dean's skin as he pressed open mouthed kisses all along his throat and bit down at the tendon just below his ear. That fucking sex voice moaning his name as his fingers trailed down--
Oh god! Fuck! Dammit!
Heat sparked in his veins, blood rushing to fill his cock again, hot and hard.
Dammit, this wasn't supposed to happen! He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of arousal. This was too fucked up. He had no business thinking of Castiel that way – it wasn't right. He was an angel, for fuck's sake! Cas said he loved him, nothing more. He palmed the front of his jeans and pressed hard, unsuccessfully willing his dick to soften.
Looking back up, he realized the shower had long since heated and the mirror was completely fogged over. He stripped off his boots and clothes and stepped under the not-quite-scalding spray. Taking a fortifying breath and holding it, he put a hand on the shower handle, prepared to douse himself in the coldest water he could get. But then he paused. Sure, a cold shower would temporarily cool him off, but for what – fifteen minutes? Then he'd be right back to horny as hell and thinking inappropriate things about Cas.
Like that invisible caress Cas had given him right before he disappeared. Dean's fingers flexed against his thigh, remembering that gentle touch. How had he done it? He'd felt the touch, even beneath his clothes, directly against his skin. Oh fuck, could Cas do that any time he wanted? Touch him anywhere?
Dean suppressed a groan. His dick gave an urgent twitch, and he finally gave in, wrapping a hand firmly around his eager erection. He shuddered, realizing that this really wasn't going to take long.
He grabbed some hair conditioner, squirting a little into his palm to serve as lube. Leaning to rest a forearm on the shower wall, he slicked his cock and fell into a familiar rhythm. If he could just come once, quick and hard, he could clear his head and stop thinking all this crazy shit about Cas.
Like Cas gripping Dean's hair tight in his fist, dragging his head back so he could suck bruises onto Dean's neck, his chest.
His rhythm faltered as he shook himself out of the fantasy. Anything but Cas. Busty Asian Beauties July centerfold. Jennifer Lawrence. Jessica Rabbit. That waitress at that pie place two weeks ago. Dr. Sexy. Anything but Cas!
Cas pushing him down, rutting his erection against Dean's thigh, stroking Dean through his jeans. Cas dragging him into a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and hot breath. Cas tearing Dean's pants open and dropping down to take Dean's cock into his gorgeous mouth and suck him down hard.
“Ah, fuuuck!” Dean groaned. Just the thought of releasing deep in Cas's throat sent him into spasms of white hot pleasure, his cock surging in his hand as he came. He leaned heavily against the wall to keep his balance, gasping as he finally stuttered to a stop.
When he eventually opened his eyes, jizz liberally coated his fist, and shame flooded the rest of him. What was wrong with him? Jacking off to Cas like that? A freakin' angel! Just thinking about it made him feel dirty, and to his horror, that made his dick stir again despite his having just climaxed.
Dean cleaned himself off and finished his shower quickly, taking an extra second to make sure all evidence of his activity had washed down the drain. He toweled off, dressed, and fixed his hair, then leaned on the sink again to glare at his reflection. Whatever Cas thought he saw in him, he was obviously wrong. Dean should count himself lucky to call the angel a friend. He sure as hell didn't deserve anything more than that.