inonebasket | (no subject)

"It's amusing to see how often your interpretations of the Bible are incorrect," Cas says idly. He leans into Dean's hands and bends his leg slightly, resting Dean's foot on his knee as he slips his hands up his pant leg to massage his calf, down to his ankle and foot. "There are passages of the Bible that, translated into modern terminology, would be considered pornographic. Yet, Christianity values purity of the body and encourages conditional celibacy and monogamy. King David, regularly idolized by many denominations, had multiple wives and concubines."

They're practically cuddling. Cas better thank his lucky stars that Dean likes him.

"Oh yeah, good ol' Song of Solomon. Back in the days before I could get my own stuff, reading that was the greatest pleasure I knew." Dean always knew that book hadn't been just symbolic. "Sure, some of the phrasing was a little weird, but you can tell. They were really digging each other."

"You would be surprised how often people seem to miss the point." Though the fact that Dean has read Song of Solomon and actually got off to it is...way more arousing an image than it should be.

Cas leans his temple against the inside of Dean's knee; his fingers are too sore to give a proper foot massage, so he places Dean's foot back on the ground with a sigh.

"Miss the point? I don't think so, Cas, they know what the point is. They're just too damn scared of sex to admit it." He huffs, finding a knot at Cas' nape and digging his thumb into it to work it out. "Which is stupid. Sex is a lot of things, but scary ain't one of them."

Trying to say something, Dean?

Cas doesn't respond to that, an arm draped loosely around Dean's leg. He lets out a grunt when Dean presses against the knot, but groans as it finally works itself out underneath Dean's hands. "Dean."

What would he be trying to say? That assumes that Dean thinks before words fall out of his mouth.

"What?" Hang on, Cas, he found another knot.

Once Dean works that one out too, Castiel just goes pliant. He closes his eyes, wets his lips and says, "I want to make a move."

"Okay?" He smooths his hands over Cas' neck, having momentarily forgotten about...everything.

Don't worry. He'll remember.

Cas pushes himself up on his knees and turns between Dean's legs. Dean is still shirtless and it seems like a waste not to take advantage of the situation, so as Cas rises he presses a palm to Dean's belly and smooths it up along to his chest.

Right then. Dean remembers! He sucks in a breath, sitting up a little straighter.

"Cas." What. Cas what. Seriously, Dean, what are you planning on saying here? Nothing, that's what.

That doesn't sound like a no, and Cas is pretty turned on right now so he'll just keep going.

He rests a knee on the mattress for balance, lets his hand fall to rest on Dean's thigh and leans in to kiss Dean.

It's impulse that leads Dean to scoot back and pull Cas into his lap. A terrible impulse. An awful impulse. One that should never happen. Oh well, it happened. No taking it back now!

It's also impulse that leads him to reach up and curl his hand around the back of Cas' neck, holding him where he is. What the hell, Dean, where are these impulses coming from?

Welp okay! Cas is perfectly fine with straddling Dean's lap, although he's not quite brave enough to just sit right on his dick there just yet. Because he's more kneeling than he is sitting Cas has a height advantage, Dean's hand on the back of his neck keeping him in place. The kiss becomes a full-blown makeout session, the sounds of panting breaths and the wet suction of lips parting making Cas's stomach pull tight. His hands grip either side of Dean's head, fingertips splayed across his neck, one thumb against his ear, misplaced in his hurry. Absolutely everything is running on automatic.

Good. Automatic is the entire point of a good makeout session. Dean is distantly proud of Cas, he's just also a little busy at the moment.

After a few minutes, though, Dean yanks himself away with a growled out "Crap." He's enjoying this more than he planned on, and that's making him a touch uncomfortable. Not Cas' fault, just Dean being his own problem again.

"What?" Cas is a bit stunned, because he'd been making out and it had been so, so awesome, and now he's not. He's still kneeling over Dean's lap but his hands hover uncertainly in the air as he swallows and tries to catch his breath. "Did I do something unwanted?"

"No--no, Cas, I swear." He takes Cas face in his hands, and yes, that's impulse too. "You're fine. You're...great, actually. This is just. This is all me, getting weird. It's not you, Cas. It's not."

...well that's nice and all that he's not to blame, but what the fuck is he supposed to do about this now? You can't just dangle something like this in front of his face and yank it away. "Is there a way to fix it?"

"Cas, if you can figure out a way to make me stop freaking out about this whole gay things, you're welcome to try it."

"Desensitization by repetition?" God, he doesn't mean to sound so hopeful but making out like that really had been just. Fucking great.

Dean snorts out a laugh, falling back onto the bed.

"Only you, Cas." He sounds fond when he says it.

No but. He'd been serious.

Cas stares down at Dean, utterly lost, but it's starting to sink in that they aren't going to go back to making out so very reluctantly, he climbs off of Dean and sits on the edge of the mattress beside him instead.

Dean doesn't move for a minute, just lying on the bed with his legs dangling over the side. Abruptly, he sits up, grabbing Cas and dragging him in close.

"I'm sorry, Cas, I really am. But I meant it when I said the rules are different with you. I'll keep trying."

"I know." Cas really is doing his level best to be sympathetic and understanding, but everything that humans make a big stinking deal out of is just so damn trivial. And now that big stinking deal is cockblocking him.

Cas sighs, leans against Dean for a moment and then extracts himself, running a hand through his hair. "We still need to eat. I'll get us food." He takes Dean's wallet from the table, there were plenty of diners they passed on the way.

Poor Cas. Dean really does have more complexes than the universe has names for, all compounded by a deep sense of self-hate. He's trying, though, he really is. For Cas' sake, he'll keep trying.

He waits until Cas is gone before getting up and padding into the bathroom. For once, it's Dean's turn to take a cold shower, and that's incredibly weird, but it's a good sign. Right? Probably.

Cas walks down the street, stops at the nearest diner and orders two of the rarest burgers he can for himself and another two for Dean, the way he likes it. Has it all boxed up, remembers Dean's pie and is back at the motel in thirty minutes.

Fixing Dean has never seemed so insurmountably difficult. What can he do? Pretend nothing is wrong? Be supportive? He can't be affectionate, not in the way they used to be and not in the way they are now. Cas doesn't know how he's supposed to prove to Dean that he's worth much more than he believes, because Dean still values his opinion of himself over everyone else's opinions of him. It would be healthy if he didn't despise himself.

Castiel lays out their food and just digs in. Comfort food.