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Okay, fine. Cas will talk to Sam about it later; at least that Winchester will give a little.

Cas finishes his food, sweeps his garbage into the trash can and heads over to the bed to stretch out on his side with a sigh. It's been a long and harrowing day, so he reaches for the bottle of Jack and sips from it.

That's because that Winchester is stupid and should start listening to this Winchester sometimes because this Winchester is never wrong. Not about these things anyway. Sometimes.

Dean rolls onto his stomach, face pressed into the pillows and slings an arm over Castiel's hip. Stupid. And ridiculous. And also incredibly damn gay, but what the hell, it's making him feel better. About...everything.

Cas has to very firmly remind himself of the 'no hair touching' rule Dean set down. He continues to nurse the bottle of Jack, wondering if he has it in him to go across the room and turn off the lamp before deciding he doesn't. He's warm. He's comfortable. He's absolutely stupid for the idiot half-draped over him and he's not moving even if a damn tornado blows through here.

Edited 2011-11-25 02:53 (UTC)

Dean is full of food and alcohol and after today is just generally exhausted, so he blinks his eyes closed and drops off quickly. He wasn't entirely truthful when he said he doesn't dream when he's sharing space with Cas. He still dreams, they're just fuzzier, more distant. And not nightmares, which is a pretty damn big improvemet. Sure, some of them get a little uncomfortable at points, but he's not waking up screaming or breathless or in tears. Good enough.

At some point in the night, he shifts onto his side, mindful of his arm even when asleep, and pulls Cas closer, tucking his face into his neck.

Oh yeah. It's good to be Dean.

Apparently the 'no hair' rule doesn't stick when one is asleep, because when Dean tucks his face into Cas's neck, Cas sifts a hand through his hair sleepily to cradle the back of his head. The bottle of Jack, thankfully, was capped and moved aside and Castiel ends up on his side, wrapped around Dean with their legs tangled.

Morning comes and Cas wakes before Dean does, blinking sleepily at the curtains lightening with the rays of sunlight behind them, then looks down at Dean.

And then looks down at himself.

Oh. Hello again.

Dean is limp on the bed, hands curled loosely, mouth slightly open.

Which is probably not helping Castiel's little predicament.

Of course, the fact that Dean is similarly experiencing that particular normal, healthy, human male reaction probably isn't helping either, but he can't help it. It happens. Not a big deal. Not to Dean anyway. When he wakes up he'll head into the bathroom, take a shower, take care of business, and be back to business as usual.

That's when he wakes up, though. First, he's just going to sleepily shift and tighten his arms, pulling Cas--well, closer isn't really an option, is it?--Squeezing Cas more tightly.

Wow uh-

That-

Cas sucks in a sharp breath; morning wood isn't anything new, it's a phenomenon that's occurred since he woke up a few months ago, but he'd never done anything about it and eventually it went away. Especially since whenever Castiel bathed, it was in cold water. Yeah.

But Dean's thigh is like right against it and is- is that-

"Dean," Cas growls and he sounds just a little bit desperate. He needs to get away from Dean immediately or he's going to do something so very stupid.

"Mmph." Dean is especially coherent this morning. He doesn't really wake up so much as he...sleepily grunts, mouthing at Cas' skin.

See, this is the bad thing about Cas. He used to be the cautious type, even meek (by angelic standards anyway) but ever since he'd decided to rebel against Heaven it's like he adopted some of Dean's worst traits. Occasionally being impulsive. Usually when making horrible life choices, like drinking a liquor store or frenching a demon. These are not good life choices but at the time they'd seemed really damn bright.

Like now. Cas shudders, exhales shakily and grips the back of Dean's hair, rubbing against his leg like some kind of dog in heat. He doesn't even care how undignified it is because it feels really, really, really good.

Okay, now he's waking up.

"Cas." That came out more like a grunt than a name. Oh well. He's not stopping Cas, though. He's mostly awake and completely aware of what's going on and oddly frozen, still hugging Cas tightly.

Thankfully (maybe thankfully) Dean actually saying something coherent brings Cas back to himself and he stills, panting and shaking and feeling very humiliated.

Cas swallows. "Sorry," he says, and tries to extract himself from Dean's arms. He's not sure what he's going to do about this problem but hey, there are some primal urges giving him a good idea and even without that horrible learning process called puberty, Cas thinks he can handle it.

That wasn't that coherent.

Dean blinks, his eyelashes just barely brushing against Cas' skin. "S'okay. S'normal." He should have known Cas would be as nervy (or more) about this than Dean is. He'd actually forgotten for a minute that he's dealing with a virgin here.

Dammit, Dean.

Oh fuck you and your fucking eyelashes.

"You should let go of me, Dean," Cas says in a voice near-wrecked. It would be sad that he's being so easily aroused if he really put any stock whatsoever in sexual experience. Then again, Dean's got plenty of experience, so that makes Cas just a bit self-conscious. ...despite being the elder in this relationship. What is this.

"Should." Sort of does. He loosens his hold, anyway, so Cas can wriggle free if he wants to.

YUP.

Cas gets away from Dean and into the bathroom in record time. The door doesn't slam; it just shuts firmly, and not even twenty seconds later the water is running.

Dean can probably figure out what's going on from there.

Oh yeah. Yeah, he's got this one figured out. He knows exactly what Cas is up to in there.

He'd take care of his own business out here, except he's reasonably sure Cas is only going to be a couple minutes. ...If that. In light of that, Dean thinks he'll just wait until Cas is done with his business. He's a big boy. He'll survive another five minutes.

Try fifteen.

Man's got some stamina.

Damn, Cas. Damn.

Dean gets up and bangs on the bathroom door. "C'mon, Cas, other people here need to do things, too!"

To be fair, he did not actually spend the entire fifteen minutes jacking off. But he's not telling Dean that.

Instead, the water shuts off and Cas walks out of the bathroom with a towel and goes straight for his duffel. He looks more relaxed than he has in...ever, but he's definitely not meeting Dean's eyes and if his lack of conversation means anything, he's not talking to him just yet either.

...then again Cas doesn't often have things he needs to say anyway, so that could just be normal.

Sure he didn't.

"Took you long enough." Dean gets off the bed and heads into the bathroom, shucking his shirt before he's even closed the door. He's going to have a hot shower, thanks.

Cas dresses in a sort of stupor.

Orgasms...those are amazing. And they're supposed to be even better with two people involved?! Why hadn't he done this until now?! God he's so stupid. Stupid.

Cas gets dressed, packs up the rest of his things and throws them into the trunk of the Impala. Sam is already packing up as well, glances up as Cas comes outside and turns just a little red. That's the guy who made his big brother bat for the other team. It's weird.

Sam's greeting is choked, Castiel says 'good morning' with the same composure he always does, and Sam offers to get them coffee from down the street.

Cas decides to wait out by the car. Just in case Dean had the bright idea of walking out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

Dean did have that idea, actually. It's not an unusual idea for him to have.

He spends twice as long in the shower as Cas did, determined to enjoy himself thoroughly. Which he does. Happily. Okay, so he's helped out by the fact that he's in his 30s, which slows everything down, but whatever.

Half an hour later, Dean emerges from the room, duffel hefted over his shoulder. He shoves his things into the trunk, takes his coffee from Sam--what a good little brother--and shoves his way into the driver's seat of the car.

"So I say we figure out something to put Cas' Grace in, split our asses up, and go clean up some damn Leviathans. If anybody's got objections, voice 'em now."

Cas raises his hand in the backseat. Sam hides his smile by sipping his frou-frou vegan latte or whatever the fuck it is.

Edited 2011-11-25 06:44 (UTC)

How convenient that raising a hand doesn't count as "voicing."

"Right. Let's get moving, then." He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.

Excuse you sir. Cas half-stands in the back and leans forward over the seat. "I have objections. We shouldn't part ways to hunt the Leviathan; we should track them down one at a time and pool our strength."