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Called Down the Thunder

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When Jack said, “The dead are rising in Dodge City, Kansas,” Dean knew that they had to go. Cas seemed incredulous, and honestly, Dean couldn’t blame him. They’d spent the ride back to the bunker silently meeting each other’s gaze in the rearview mirror as Sam prattled on, occasionally pausing to give another of their friends a call to let them know that Cas was alive. 

They hadn’t been able to reach Claire, but Jody said that that wasn’t unusual when she was on a hunt with timed check-ins, and that she would pass on the news. Sam put the phone on speaker then, and Jody told Cas she was so glad to hear that the Winchester tradition of fighting off death had stuck to him too. Dean cleared his throat softly at that, and said, “Well, he’s one of us.” Sam gave Dean a soft look and wrapped up the phone call, leaving things quiet in the car for the rest of the drive. 

Dodge City. Dean was excited as he threw himself into packing. He’d hollered down the hallway to find out if Cas had his own cowboy hat, and then turned around, startled to see him standing in the bedroom doorway.

“Dean, I’ve been dead.” Cas rolled his eyes. “Before that, the only things I ever owned that weren’t Jimmy’s to begin with were given to me by you.” His eyes were playful as he leaned in, asking, “Did you ever give me a cowboy hat?”

Dean flushed and didn’t answer, turning back towards his closet and pulling his boots down from the top shelf. 

“It’s so good to have you here,” he said over his shoulder as he made his way over to the dresser. Cas stepped closer to Dean as he rifled through his drawer, trying to decide on a tie. He tensed, and then let out a deep exhale as Cas brought a hand up to rest in the exact middle point between Dean’s shoulder blades, leaning into the touch. Cas’ hands were big, and his fingers spread farther than Dean expected every time Cas touched him. “Cas, I-”

He was cut off by Sam poking his head into the room from the hallway. “Jack and I are ready to-” Dean and Cas both looked at Sam, waiting on him to finish the sentence. Dean couldn’t muster up the energy to pull himself away from Cas. It wasn’t like anything inappropriate had been going on, he told himself, and Cas had died. He’d died. Before Dean could either wallow in guilt or argue himself back around to stepping away, Sam shook his head a little, his ridiculous hair swaying around his shoulders, and said, “We’re loading up.”

Dean nodded, and Sam did too, smiling once at Cas before continuing down the hallway. Dean could hear his familiar and even stride fading away towards the garage, Jack’s newer, quick steps following him. He let out another heavy breath.

“Dean.”

Dean didn’t look at Cas, finally grabbing his bolo tie out of the drawer. If he was going to Dodge City he might as well go full cowboy.

“Dean, we’re going to have to talk eventually.” Cas sounded fondly exasperated.

“Talk about what, Cas?” He packed with a quiet efficiency, learned from years of practice. “Far as I’m concerned nothing has changed. You’re back, you’re alive. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

“What I did before I- what I did before, though. Leaving with Kelly-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean slung his bag over his shoulder, pushing his hat box against Cas’ stomach gently until he gripped it and followed Dean down the hallway. Like he always followed Dean. “Look. What’s done is done. You’re alive again. You’re back. That’s all I need to know.” 

He stopped by the kitchen on his way out to grab a water bottle and held one out to Cas as he stood at the open refrigerator. Cas shook his head minutely, and Dean nodded. They made their way into the garage and saw that Sam and Jack were already in the car, the trunk still open. Dean dropped his bag in, trusting Sam to have checked the weapons stock already. Cas gingerly placed Dean’s hat box in as well, as careful with it as he was with anything of Dean’s, and Dean felt his face beginning to hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.

The drive to Dodge City was pleasant. They spent the time teaching Jack road games, and Cas had been ecstatic to pass along the ones he remembered from the times he’d ridden with them. A four hour drive was nothing compared to the time that they had spent on the road before, and they arrived early enough in the afternoon for dinner and drinks at one of the themed bars. Sam gave an exasperated sigh and pulled a face when Dean announced it, but he wasn’t pushing. Dean knew Sam found his love of cowboys amusing, but that was fine. At least Dean wasn’t some weirdo with a True Crime fetish. 

Tension between Dean and Cas mounted as the evening went on. Cas wanted to talk, and Dean wanted to let things be. Still, things were pleasant, and the tension wasn’t unbearable. Honestly, he could guess at what was on the horizon, but Dean had learned not to bank on hope. Regardless, the future seemed pretty damn bright from where he was sitting. So, they went to the Central Station Bar & Grill for dinner. It was on Wyatt Earp Boulevard, which Dean mentioned at least seven times on the way over. Sam and Cas had shared tired glances, and Jack just looked bemused. 

They were seated near the bar, but still clearly within the boundary that seemed to denote family seating. Sometimes Dean wondered what kind of family people thought they were, and if it was weirder now that it was three grown men and what looked like a teenager. At least no one was calling CPS on them.

As Jack looked around at the decor Dean could hear him humming to himself. They sat in a content sort of silence for a time. After longer than Dean would have expected for the relative emptiness of the place, the hostess swung by with their drinks, thanked them for their patience, and assured them that their server was on her way. They all nodded at her in thanks, and then Jack began to argue with Sam about what appropriate dinner food meant.

“You can’t just order potatoes, Jack, it isn’t healthy,” Sam claimed, exasperatedly. 

“But how will I learn which ones I like?”

It was during all of this that Cas leaned over and picked up Dean’s glass of sweet tea. There was already condensation dripping down the outside, and the ice swirled around in the glass, clinking on the sides. He took a sip, appeared pleased, and then took another drink before setting it down on the table. Dean’s eyes were wide through the whole scene, and he licked his lips.

“That much starch isn’t good for you all at once,” Sam argued, purposefully ignoring whatever it was that was going on between Dean and Cas. He’d flicked his eyes over once though, and given his older brother a grin that made him scowl back in response. Still, Dean found himself grateful for Sam’s steady presence in his life once again. Even though he wasn’t so sure what was going on himself, and having an audience certainly wasn’t making things any easier, having Sam acting the same as always kept him firmly rooted in the “this is okay” camp. Still. There were duties he had as an older brother.

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean chimed in, having finally found his voice. “How’s the kid gonna know what he likes?” Sam scoffed at that, turning to look up at their waitress. She’d arrived during the argument and was watching it all with an amused smile. She was tall, probably Dean’s height, and wearing a cowboy hat pulled low over her eyes. Her name tag said Delilah. 

“Well, what can I get y’all then?” Delilah asked, and Dean smiled at her. 

“Two steak dinners, rare, with mashed potatoes, and another sweet tea for him,” he replied, jerking a thumb toward Cas. He handed over the menus and nodded at Sam.

“I’ll have the house salad. Corn-on-the cob on the side.” Sam smiled tightly at her, handing his menu over as well, and she looked at Jack as he grinned.

“I would like the mashed potatoes with country gravy. And a baked potato with” -he glanced at the menu then- “mm. Everything on it.”

“Don’t forget fries, kid,” Dean said, and Jack nodded seriously as Sam threw his hands up.

“And fries. Thank you.”

Delilah looked between them all, about to outright laugh at this point, and shook her head. “Coming right up,” she said, wide smile showing off her perfect teeth. 

As she walked away Jack asked, “Can I try your tea, Dean?”

“No. But you can order one when she comes back.”

“But you let Cas drink it.”

Sam snorted at that, and Dean’s cheeks burned a little brighter before he cleared his throat. “‘S different. Cas is an angel. No germs.”

“I’m half-angel. Wouldn’t that mean-”

“Okay, fine, here,” Dean said shortly, shoving his glass at Jack, glaring at Sam, daring him to say something. Sam just held his hands up in surrender.

“This is excellent,” Jack finally exclaimed, as Dean realized that he’d drank nearly the whole glass. 

“Awesome.” He rolled his eyes. “Keep it. I’ll order another.”

Their dinner came and the evening wore on in the same cheerful mood it had started in. Dean ate his food, and Cas surreptitiously swapped out their plates, passing his over, prompting Dean to give him a smile bursting with chewed up steak and mashed potatoes. Sam gagged dramatically in response, and Dean threw a dinner roll at him. Jack lined up the condiments available neatly and tried each one on his fries, before Dean recommended that he dip them in the gravy on the other potatoes. He then dipped a fry into the mashed potatoes themselves, scooping it up like a topping, and Sam looked like he was going to have an aneurism. 

Through it all Dean felt whole. Sure, things were still wrong. They had a hunt to go on, they had mom to worry about. But here they were: Cas was back, Jack was learning to use his powers. He didn’t think anything could bring his mood down, and all it took was a big win. 

Then he was woken up at ass o’clock. That brought his mood down a little.

Cas did look apologetic that Dean had been startled so forcefully into wakefulness. Dean could hear Cas poking fun at him in his effort to engage Jack while Dean drank his coffee. Coffee that tasted a damn sight better than normal, which meant Cas had made it for him. Sam always got distracted and let it burn. Probably because he was too busy braiding his hair or something. He took a deep swallow and sighed. Man it was good to have Cas back. Things sort of passed by in a whirlwind in Dean’s mind at that point, and then there was silence. Sam had left with the kid and Dean spent the next few minutes drinking his coffee and mentally stepping into work mode. 

“When are we going to talk, Dean?” Cas asked, stepping behind him as he fiddled with his bolo tie in front of the vanity mirror.

“Told you,” Dean grunted, squinting at the tie as if that would make the damned strings untangle, “nothing to talk about. You’re back, things are the same as they ever were.”

Cas pulled the tie from Dean’s hands, setting it on the vanity. His hands were exceedingly gentle. “Dean we’ve been hurtling towards this for nearly a decade now. I came back from a death that was not considered possible. What will it take?” He tried to catch Dean’s gaze in the mirror, but Dean wouldn’t look at him.

“Things are good enough, Cas.”

“Aren’t you tired of settling for ‘good enough’?”

“We have a crime scene,” Dean replied, reaching out to pick up his tie. Cas reached out as well, hand resting on Dean’s, and Dean sighed heavily. Neither of them moved for a tense moment. Cas finally sighed as well, before pulling his hand away. Dean let out a huff of air, putting his bolo tie on and fiddling with it. “Cas, what do you want with some tired hunter with nothing to prove, anyway?” Cas always had that effect on him. Drawing out the things he didn’t want to talk about. Guess it was time to talk then.

Or not.

Cas blinked once before pushing Dean, manhandling him so that he was facing away from the mirror, and crowding into his space. He kissed Dean fiercely, a claim, a stake, home. Dean figured it was no wonder Meg had been so in love with him, if this is what it felt like when Cas had kissed her all those years ago. Cas pulled away, and Dean was left gaping like a fool. He hadn’t expected Cas to just steamroll past the whole conversation when Dean kept refusing to have it.

“You’re my family, Dean. And I could ask the same of you.”

Dean looked at Cas like he’d never once considered not wanting Cas around. Sure, maybe in the beginning. But the first time Cas had sat on that park bench and admitted to having doubts Dean had started to feel a kinship to that windswept nerdy angel. Everything that came after had led them both to the edge, and Cas had finally pushed them over.

Dean had to clear his throat a few times before he got out, “We do need to get going.” Cas nodded, but didn’t step out of Dean’s space. Dean felt hot, and hated himself for it. A lifetime of suppressing his reactions to men and pursuing how he felt about women meant that he acted like an idiot any time a hot guy got anywhere near to flirting with him, and this was Cas. Cas who seemed to know a whole lot more about what was between them than Dean had given him credit for. He’d honestly been fine with loving Cas from afar for the rest of eternity before Cas died, and then resigned himself to quiet mourning instead. But again, Cas surprised him for the better.

“Go get your hat,” Cas said, stepping away. Dean had hoped that he would kiss him again, but they really were running late. He stepped toward the closet, pulling his box down. “I’ll meet you in the lobby,” Cas called over his shoulder. “And we can talk more when we come back.” 

Dean felt giddy. Positively stupid with affection. He didn’t think he could remember ever feeling quite like this, and it didn’t slow down as he walked through the lobby, bullying Cas into wearing the hat that he found as they walked out through the gift shop. It took less badgering than it would have, before, and Dean found that he wasn’t above flirting to get what he wanted here. 

Jesus Christ. They’d kissed one time. They hadn’t even had sex. Sure, there’d been nearly a decade of foreplay going on, but damn. He knew he was acting like an idiot, but Dean found this once that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Maybe those quiet feelings of shame and wrongness would come back later, but he was going to take the good where he could get it. And it was a damn good kiss.

Dean found that the crime scene couldn’t even bring down his mood. Cas wore the hat. God, he even checked himself out in the rearview mirror. Dean knew he kept repeating himself at this point, but it was good to have Cas back and he needed him to know it. Keeping his composure when Cas just casually announced that he was Val Kilmer was a struggle of herculean effort, but Dean managed it, somehow. It may have been managed somewhat by picturing Cas as Doc Holliday as a distraction, but if so, that was Dean’s own business. 

They left the crime scene with a few more questions than they’d come in with, and nothing to do until Sam and Jack were back from the morgue. “You wanna get some burgers?” Dean asked out of habit, but Cas just looked at him.

“I think we should talk now, Dean.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Right, okay.”

The drive back to the motel was charged, and Dean left the radio off. They were silent as they walked through the lobby and down the hallway, up until they got back into the room. Dean opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, when Cas surprised him with the same trick twice, pushing Dean up against the back of the door this time.

Dean wouldn’t say he was ready, necessarily, but he’d be damned if he left Cas hanging, so he kissed back, hands coming up to grip at the lapels of his coat. Cas caressed Dean’s face with his left hand, his right forearm resting on the door by Dean’s head. They pulled away so Dean could breathe, and he found himself lost in Cas’ eyes.

“Thought we were going to talk?”

“I was attempting to engage in a ‘euphemism’,” Cas explained, and Dean could hear those stupid finger quotes around the word.

“Well then.” He cleared his throat. “Good job, buddy.”

“However,” Cas continued, and Dean groaned. 

“Can’t we just leave things at good enough?”

“I died, Dean. Again. Forgive me for wanting to air out the things we’ve never said to each other. Things I thought that I had died without telling you. Things that I wanted to hear from you and never did.”

They were still pressed together, and Dean sighed. “I need you Cas. And yeah. You died. It fucked me right up. But you’re here now. Why do we need to go poking at it when we both know what we mean?”

Cas pulled back. “Do you, Dean? Do you know that I burn for you? Do you know that even now I can feel your yearning for me as a physical thing? I’ve kissed you and you’re still praying your longing out to me at a frequency that I am finding increasingly impossible to ignore.” Dean looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up, but Cas continued. “If I could pray to you I would. I would broadcast my love for you at any frequency that you asked of me, and I would remain at your side forever if it were within my power. These are the things that I’ve wanted to say, the things that we avoided. I died, Dean. I can’t think of any reason to avoid them longer.”

Dean was the one to push forward this time, kissing Cas, both hands cradling his face and pulling him in. He pulled back after that, letting Cas hold him against the back of the door. Their hats were askew, Dean’s practically falling off, and Dean could tell his shirt was getting wrinkled where Cas now had a firm grip on his hips.

“Come on Cas,” Dean breathed out, pulling away. “I’m getting too old to be pushed up against doors like this.”

“I strongly disagree,” Cas replied, making Dean laugh softly into his neck. Dean’s head rested softly on Cas’ collarbone for a moment.

“Alright, Casanova, let's go then. Saddle up.”

“Dean if that’s a reference to something, I don’t understand it.”

“What? No dummy it was a euphemism. It means we’re doing this, let’s go.” He shoved softly past Cas towards the bedroom, shucking off clothing as he went. It was Cas’ turn to be startled this time, and he followed Dean, eyes like saucers.

The saloon doors swung wildly back and forth as they pushed through them, Cas following Dean as always. 

“Everything alright buddy?” Dean finally asked. He was shirtless now, and Cas hadn’t moved past the doors, hadn’t taken any clothes off. “You know we don’t have to do this right now, right? I’d never force you into something you didn’t want to do.”

“It’s not that, not really. I just never expected to get this far,” Cas replied, sitting down on the end of Sam’s bed. Dean frowned and sat next to him.

“Hey, you can talk to me, man. What’s up?”

Cas let out a strangled laugh. “I honestly expected you to tell me to leave the bunker again.”

“I’m sorry what?” Dean couldn’t help sounding pissed off, but he sighed and tried to reign it in. “Why would I do that?”

“You seem so happy and well-adjusted these days. I wasn’t sure if my arrival would upset the new balance you seem to have struck. And, quite frankly, while I knew I had to talk to you about my feelings the moment I was back on Earth, I wasn’t expecting things to end well. I just knew I had to do it.”

“You were just gonna tell me even though you thought, what, that I’d make you leave home?” Dean felt sick to his stomach.

“I assumed you might not want me in your home, knowing of my feelings, if I was wrong and they weren’t reciprocated.”

“Cas. The bunker is your home too. I know I screwed things up with Gadreel and I really hurt you and I don’t think I can ever make that up to you.” Cas tried to protest, but Dean stopped him with a hand on his knee. “Look. Whatever we feel, whatever this is between us, even if it changes, I’m not going to make you leave. You’re family.”

There was a long silence, and the air felt heavy and electric. Dean wasn’t sure how he could fix it. He sighed.

“You said I seem happy. Cas, I’m happy cause you’re back. Trust me.” He let out a forced laugh and shook his head, running the hand not on Cas’ knee through his own hair. “You can ask Sammy. Hell, even ask Jack. I haven’t been happy. I’ve been a mess, and part of the reason I wanted us here on this case was so I had time to figure out how to get rid of all the empty bottles laying around your room.”

“Dean you don’t have to hide parts of yourself from me.” Cas paused. “Although it wouldn’t hurt for you to consider drinking less.”

“Yeah buddy. I know.”

They sat in silence for a minute longer, before Dean’s phone buzzed. He picked it up and saw that it was a message from Sam.

“Sammy says he and Jack are leaving the morgue and stopping for lunch, and not to expect them back for a while because he promised the kid they could go to the arcade he saw on the way into town last night.” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “What a marshmallow.”

“Dean.” Cas set a hand purposefully on Dean’s thigh. “Let me know if I’m ‘reading the room’ wrong”-he did the air quotes one handed, and damn if Dean didn’t find it adorable-“but we have limited time alone and have talked through our issues.” 

“Uh yeah,” Dean replied, not breaking eye contact. Cas’ huge hand was inching closer and closer to his inseam. “We sure did buddy.”

“So now would be an appropriate time to have sexual intercourse?”

Dean swallowed. That hand was now unbuttoning his pants. “Mmhmm.” He didn’t trust his voice farther than that, especially after the emotional whiplash he’d just been through. He nodded, and Cas blinked slowly. 

“Good.”

Before Dean could really think, he was pushed back up the bed, and he did spare a fleeting thought that it was Sam’s bed. He did feel guilty for half a second, but Cas was shucking his pants off him like it was his job, and Dean felt that he should be pardoned for his inability to care after that.

Dean was in just his boxer briefs when Cas knelt above him, still fully clothed, although without his hat, and hello, that was an unexpected turn-on. They were kissing, then, and it was a close and desperate thing. Dean had his hands under Cas’ coat, trying to push it off of him, but Cas was running his hands up and down Dean’s sides. 

“C’mon Cas, off,” Dean said against his lips, tugging at the coat and suit jacket underneath. Cas straight up growled, sitting up on his knees to take off his own clothing. Dean leaned back on his elbows and watched for a moment before sitting up and working at Cas’ belt. He wanted to laugh at the old man boxers that seemed to be a holdover from Jimmy, but before he could Cas was pushing him back with one hand and shoving his own pants down his thighs with the other.

“The things you do to me, Dean,” Cas murmured against Dean’s neck between kisses. His hands were pulling Dean close, and Dean brought a leg up to bring Cas even closer. “I wasn’t meant to feel like this. Wasn’t supposed to want this.” 

Dean groaned and turned his face, kissing Cas like he would die without him. “C’mon,” Dean begged, flushing a soft red that travelled down his chest. “Get these off,” he said, hand pushing beneath the waistband of Cas’ boxers. “God Cas, if we’re doing this I wanna see .” Cas groaned and nodded, rolling off of Dean and to the side to push his boxers and pants the rest of the way down before kicking them off. Dean propped himself up on one elbow to watch and snorted. “Get your socks off too. I’m not letting you fuck me with socks on.”

Cas looked at Dean and laughed, shaking his head, but he leaned forward and pulled his socks off. As he did, Dean pushed his boxer briefs down and kicked his socks off before getting up. Cas looked at him quizzically and he shrugged before digging into his duffel bag. “Gotta lube up, buddy,” Dean said over his shoulder. “Little different than when you do it with a woman.” Cas nodded and propped himself up on one elbow to watch Dean bend over. He let out a wolf whistle, causing Dean to turn red again and whip around, the bottle clutched to his chest.

“Was that not the correct response?” he asked innocently, and Dean squinted at him.

“That innocent ‘I don’t understand that reference’ angel shtick stopped being plausible a long time ago,” Dean replied, face still red. Cas hummed in response, eyes tracking Dean as he made his way back across the room, pausing thoughtfully to look at his hat before picking it up.

“Alright,” Dean said, clambering ungracefully across the bed until he was straddling Cas’ hips. He plopped the hat down on Cas’ head, wiggling his eyebrows. “This part is gonna be weird, probably,” Dean began, squirting some lube on his hands and reaching behind himself. Cas rested his hands on Dean’s hips, steadying him.

“I do know how this works, Dean,” Cas replied, “I’ve watched humans doing it for millennia.”

“Ha, always knew you were a big perv!” Dean crowed, and Cas rolled his eyes.

“Yes, exactly,” he responded, completely deadpan, making Dean laugh under his breath. Cas let his hands wander softly up and down Dean’s sides as he stretched himself. “Next time I want to do this part for you,” he said as he brought his hand to Dean’s left shoulder, fitting it over the spot he had left a mark all those years ago. Dean responded with a breathy moan before leaning forward to kiss Cas.

“Nothing stopping you from helping out now,” Dean replied, and Cas reached out and took the lube from him, before rolling them over. The sprawl of Dean’s legs was obscene, and Cas knelt between them and traced his hands over Dean’s inner thighs with reverence. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and he sighed. “Much as I want to, we can’t draw this out this time,” Dean reminded Cas, who nodded.

Hooking Dean’s left leg over his shoulder, Cas brought a hand down and pushed. Dean had already opened himself up somewhat, but Cas was gentle. “The things you do to me, Dean,” he breathed out. “The faith you have in me.” Dean was panting at this point, hips rocking minutely as Cas worked his fingers in and out. “I would battle through hell every day if it meant I could be with you like this again.”

“It’s, ah it’s a good thing all you’re gonna have to do is tell me you wanna fuck then,” Dean replied, making Cas snort.

“I was trying to be romantic.” Cas laughed, and Dean shook his head. 

“Be romantic when the kid and my brother aren’t on the verge of showing up.” He wiggled his hips and licked his lips. “Come on, get in there already big boy.” Cas stopped and squinted at Dean.

“What was that?” he asked incredulously.

“I’ve got no idea.” Dean closed his eyes and tried not to giggle like some kind of kid or something. “I was trying to be sexy.”

“Maybe don’t try so hard,” Cas replied, shaking his head. Dean laughed again.

“This is ridiculous. Come on already.”

Cas squirted more lube on his hand and gave his dick a quick workover while Dean laughed some more, before pausing. “Dean, do you have a prophylactic?”

“Huh?” Dean squinted at him.

“A condom, Dean,” Cas explained with patience that he didn’t really feel.

“No, I know, Cas, I just thought you had that no cooties angel thing going on.”

“That is correct Dean, but if you would be more comfortable with-”

“No, nah.” He cleared his throat. “We don’t need ‘em.” Cas nodded, and then he was pushing again, slowly. Dean gasped, keeping his eyes open as best he could. He wanted to memorize this, to keep it forever. If by some God forsaken chance he made it into Heaven at the end of the road he wanted this memory firmly fixed in a place of honor, and he wanted to remember it all.

“Cas, come on buddy. I’m not gonna break,” he said, reaching up to pull Cas down closer. His leg was still over Cas’ arm, and it was a bit of a stretch, he wasn’t 20 anymore, but it was manageable. They kissed open-mouthed and desperate as Cas set his hips into motion, thrusting in and out slowly. The friction was exquisite, and Dean found himself panting as Cas kissed his way back down Dean’s neck.

“You’re gonna leave hickeys or beard burn if you’re not careful,” Dean gasped as Cas bit down softly on his collarbone before kissing it again. “Not that, uh, not that I mind.”

“Good,” Cas responded, voice deeper than Dean thought he’d ever heard it. He groaned, and Cas kissed him again, dragging the head of his cock back and forth against Dean’s prostate. 

“God Cas, don’t stop,” Dean pleaded, wrapping his fist around his own dick and stroking it messily. His hips were moving almost without his control, fucking himself up onto Cas’ dick, meeting him in the middle. Cas was growling half vocalized syllables, words Dean wasn’t even sure were in English as he pushed into Dean. 

“Come on, come on, right there,” Dean chanted, and Cas slipped his other arm under Dean’s other knee, leaving him bent nearly in half. The angle was deeper, and he groaned, even though he was nowhere near limber enough to kiss Cas at this angle. 

The sounds they were making were filthy, between the noises their bodies made as they met and their own conversation. Dean wavered between hoping someone could hear how good the sex was and mortified at the thought of anyone overhearing, although his thoughts didn’t stray long. Cas let both of his knees go, and Dean brought them around to cross at the ankles behind Cas’ back as he came in to kiss Dean again.

Dean could feel himself getting closer, it was like a wave that he could see building on the horizon, and he panted into Cas’ mouth as they kissed. Their bodies were pressed together, his hand still between them stroking himself in time with Cas’ fervent thrusts. 

“Come on, baby,” Dean gasped, thumb pressing just over the head of his dick, and Cas pressed in fast, and yep, that did it. He was coming in fast spurts over his hand and onto Cas’ stomach, and Cas’ thrusts lost rhythm as he grew closer, finally biting down onto the red patch he’d made of the right side of Dean’s neck as he came. He pulled away, rolling to the side, and Dean made a face as he felt come oozing out of his ass.

He laid completely still for a moment before giving in and rolling into Cas’ side. Cas brought his arm around Dean almost immediately, and they both closed their eyes before they heard the rattling of the key in the door, and Dean’s eyes burst open.

“-personally I don’t see the appeal,” Sam said as he walked in, and Dean was standing before he knew it, up against the saloon doors, holding them shut.

“Hello, Dean!” Jack said as Sam set down a bag of what looked like cheap arcade toys on the couch. “Why are you naked?” Sam made a choking sound and whipped around, before settling on Dean. His eyes narrowed.

“Really Dean? You couldn’t have had your sexuality crisis when we weren’t coming back here? Who was it anyway, the waitress from last night? You’d better have been on your own bed. And where is Cas? Don’t tell me you ditched him just to…” Sam trailed off, eyes locked over Dean’s shoulder.

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face before grimacing at the thought of where that hand had been. He needed a shower. Before he could open his mouth to answer, though, Cas was there answering Sam. Also naked. Except for Dean’s damn hat.

“I apologize, Sam,” he said, “it appears that we were indeed on your bed.”

Dean froze, and Sam froze. Jack was looking between them all intently, and Sam wasn’t saying anything.

“Isn’t that Dean’s hat?” Jack asked innocently, and that spurred Sam into movement.

“Okay buddy, Dean and Cas need to clean up, lets go check out the gift shop, huh?” Sam asked as he pushed Jack toward the door, glaring over his shoulder before his face made an odd series of expressions, settling on a smile that looked more like a grimace, and leaving, shutting the door firmly behind him.

It was silent for a moment, before Dean turned to look at Cas and started laughing like he hadn’t in a really long time. It took a moment, but Cas joined him, and they sat down on the end of what was certainly going to be Dean’s bed now. Cas took the hat off his head, setting it gently behind him. 

“We should shower,” Cas said, when there had been nothing but content silence for a moment. “I’m sure whatever Sam and Jack came up with at the morgue is something we need to talk about.” Dean nodded, leaning against Cas for a moment before standing up.

“Gonna join me?” he asked, holding out a hand. Cas looked at it for a moment, then reached out, letting Dean pull him up.

“I could be persuaded,” Cas replied, making Dean laugh again. Damn, his face hurt. Still. This was the best day of his life.