inonebasket | (no subject)

Fine. Maybe Dean will.

The one hand is a little close to Dean's hair for comfort, but whatever. He's actually remarkably okay with it, which is...surprising. Very surprising. But Dean will freak out about how he's not freaking out later, because right now he is completely disregarding his earlier rule about hands and hair and sliding one of his hands into Cas' hair. (It's okay when Dean's doing it, see. He's a man and men do the gripping, not the other way around--yes, Cas is a man, too, but it's different!)

Screw it. Dean's not going to keep defending his actions, he is just going to do things.

Dean's thinking an awful lot for a dude making out. Cas's brain is already shutting down as suggested, as evidenced by how aggressive he's becoming because yeah, sure, angel of the Lord doesn't need sex but this body is human and Cas has no buffer between its needs and his own.

If he had the experience required to have proper fantasies, he'd be picturing himself throwing Dean onto floor and doing any number of filthy things to him, but as it is all Cas knows is that he wants. A sound comes out of him that he really hadn't meant to make, low and brief, and he leans backward and shifts his legs to sit with his shoulders against the side of the mattress, pulling Dean with him by the shoulder and neck.

Edited 2011-11-24 08:15 (UTC)

That sound does something very, very weird to Dean's gut. Something that--no. No, he's not questioning it right now. Forget it. Far from resisting the pull, Dean goes with it, looping his other arm around Cas' waist--ow, bruise--and pulling up, breaking the kiss for a second.

"Second rule of making out: doing it on the floor really sucks. Don't do it on the floor."

Edited 2011-11-24 08:45 (UTC)

Being breathless isn't a new thing for Cas, but being breathless because of something like this is, and he takes a second before ordering Dean, "Up," and gripping his collar, hauling them both to their feet and back down onto the bed.

For once, it's actually kind of nice to see Cas breathless. Well. Nice to see him breathless for reasons that don't involve horrible injuries. How's that for rare?

Despite being stuck as a human (or as a human with a tiny bit of Grace, whatever), Cas is still surprisingly strong for being such a weedy, nerdy thing. Dean grunts when he's yanked to his feet and actually almost laughs when his back hits the bed.

Of all the people he thought he'd be making out with, Cas isn't even near the list.

Pretty rare in their line of work. Nice to have a reason to be breathless that doesn't include blinding pain or a run for your life.

On the list or not, Cas has apparently decided to make the best of this situation, and this time the heel of his palm presses down on Dean's hip as if to pin him there. His weight on an elbow digging into the mattress, the springs creaking because they're probably rusted to hell and back, Cas ignores the deja vu as he goes for Dean's lips, misses and drops a kiss onto the corner of his mouth instead. Whatever. He'll just kiss over to his jaw and down his neck then, because Cas has this obsession with Dean's neck that can be explained by the realization that Dean has a really nice neck.

Not that Cas has examined a whole lot of necks up close. Theoretically he knows what every single one looks like, but in his very informed expert opinion, Dean's is the nicest.

It's a neck. It keeps his head from falling off and makes it easier to turn said head to see things. Aside from that, Dean fails to see why Cas is so interested in it.

"Cas. That's--that's enough of that." No necking. That's a little too weird for Dean.

Sam's next door. Dean suddenly hopes Sam is sound asleep.

Cas pushes himself up on his elbow, looking very disgruntled. "I can't do that either?" You are seriously limiting the 'what's okay between dudes' list here, man. Lips-on-lips vanilla kissing on the bed is going to get pretty old after a while.

Hey now, Dean thinks he's been pretty open-minded already just to allow that. Geez, Cas.

"Just gimme a minute, okay? This whole thing is...it's weird. I'm not usually in bed with other men."

HUFF.

Okay. Cas will remember to be patient, because he is a sexless several-hundred-million-year-old creature and Dean is an American in his thirties.

Cas rolls over onto his back to lay beside Dean instead, lacing his fingers over his stomach and letting his legs dangle over the edge of the bed. "...I think I could eat after all." Unintentionally giving Dean an out if he wants to take it.

Dean lunges for it, sitting up and yanking open the nightstand drawer to pull out takeout menus.

"You're in luck. They've got plenty of food around." He'll just pick up the phone and call the first place he sees, ordering for the both of them. Cas still likes red meat, right? Hope so, because Dean's getting lots of it.

Yeah Cas said he could eat, not he could eat five orders of the carnivore special.

Vaguely disappointed and more than a little unsure of himself (a feeling he will never, ever grow accustomed to) Castiel rolls off of the bed and heads into the bathroom, snagging his duffel along the way. He needs a shower and he gets the feeling Dean needs space. Two birds.

Hey, at least one of those is for Sam, okay? Give Dean a little credit.

Castiel is right, though, Dean does need some space. All his life he's been all about the ladies (because there are some very nice ladies out there and he would like to appreciate them, thanks). But now he's just spent the--what time is it again?--the last hour spilling his guts to and making out with a dude. With Cas and he's pretty sure the only way that'd get any freakier is if it'd been with Sam.

Dean rubs his hands over his face, trying to figure out why this bothers him so much. Or, more importantly, why it isn't bothering so much. It is bothering him, just not as much as he'd think it would. He's bothered less than he should be and that bothers him. Or something.

Dammit. He needs a drink. He gets up and digs through his duffel until he finds the half-full bottle of Jack and cracks it open, sorely tempted to down the whole thing.

Castiel emerges from the bathroom, clean and changed, to see Dean drowning himself in drink again.

Oh God. He was so bad he drove Dean to the bottle. Standing stiffly in the doorway Cas looks at the bottle before looking over toward the door. "My apologies. I'll...do some research." So he doesn't fuck it up so bad next time.

What. No. What.

No! Dean drove himself to the bottle!

"Where the hell are you going? Food's gonna be here any minute and it's late. Research can wait." He swallows another mouthful.

Yeah but he does not want to be in the same room as the guy he really wants to jump when said guy does not want to be jumped. "You and Sam should be sharing a room," Castiel says, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

Dean snorts. Yeah, maybe he will just drink the rest of this.

"Yeah, right. The second I go over there, you'll get some bug up your ass about leaving to keep me safe, and then what? I don't think so, Cas. I'm staying right here." He pauses with the bottle halfway to his mouth. "Besides, you sleep better when I'm around."

And Dean sleeps better with Cas around, but that's a little more than he's able to admit just yet. He'll get there.

"I can manage."

Cas looks back over at the door. "I wouldn't leave now anyway. The last thing it would do is keep you safe. The Leviathan will be attacking us regardless, we might as well band together for the sake of numbers."

"Cas." See Dean completely ignore everything about the Leviathans. "I don't want you to manage. Managing is just surviving and surviving is hell. I want you to be good. Okay? I'm staying here."

"Then you need to be good also." Cas finally looks over at Dean for the first time leaving the bathroom. Kind of alarming, considering how much of Cas's waking moments are spent staring at Dean. "I don't want you to settle for 'just surviving' either."

Dean is looking at his rapidly dwindling Jack. "I am good. Or better anyway. Bruises and all, Cas, the last couple weeks have been pretty good. So thanks."

Cas is looking at Dean's rapidly dwindling Jack as well.

What?

Dean offers up the bottle, not that there's much left to it.

"Sorry, I'm hogging it. Finish it off, I'll go grab some more from the car."

"I need you, Dean." Still looking at the bottle before returning his attention to Dean's face. "Not just for... I need you because I can't do this alone and that's what I am without you. Alone."

Okay, then. More for Dean.

"You're not going Brokeback Mountain on me here, are you?" Oh wait. He's not going to understand that reference. "Cas, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."