”It's time for Ra to die again,” Cas uttered thoughtfully while they watched the sun go down under the horizon on day fifteen, startling Dean from watching the changes of light and shadow on Cas's bare skin, the nook and crannies of the body that had become so familiar. The deep hues were fascinating.

“Who? What now?” Baffled, Dean leaned his elbows on his knees, both of the survivalists sitting on their makeshift couch, not getting his eyes off Cas beside him, while the incredible man relaxed, leaning back on his hands with his ankles crossed, and for once in his life, his satchel covering his lap.

“Ra, the Egyptian god. He dies every sunset”, Cas said very matter-of-factly, taking a breath to continue.

Dean perked up, remembering the one about him being an Aquarius a few days ago. Cas's insistence that Ganymede must’ve looked exactly like Dean had been... Interesting, to say the least. And very hands-on. Show and tell with the way he’d compared Ganymede’s beauty to Dean’s alleged one by tracing Dean’s features with his finger with a soft smile. “He's a god. How can he die?”

“He's very old,” Cas turned to watch Dean with a smile which made the cutest wrinkles appear around Cas’s eyes. “He can't even live on Earth, he's too old for it.”

Dean chuckled. “I feel the same way sometimes. Especially when I have to google a word just to understand what the crazy kids these days are talking about.”

“Yes, but at least you don't have to fight a snake demon of the underworld every evening.”

“Ra has to fight demons? Who does that? Crazy people.”

“Ra does, so he can bring us the day again.” Cas punched Dean's shoulder lightly in reprimand, laughter in his voice. “If he wins the fight, the morning comes and he can ride the sun boat until he dies again.”

“And what if he doesn't win?”

“Well then that's when solar eclipses or storms happen. It means the demon has won.”

“And then he's just born again? Out of nothing? But I thought you said he was old. That doesn't make any sense, he’d be a baby. A baby fighting a demon at that.”

“He must have very tiring days.” Cas shrugged a shoulder and sat up, brushing the sand from his hands and turning more towards Dean. “And he's a god , Dean,” Cas said, as if this should be old news. “Of course it doesn't make any sense, it's all a matter of faith,” Cas said very seriously, though obviously fighting a grin at Dean's pouting.

“That... That still doesn't make any sense.”

“Ra's name is actually Auf at night," Cas said like that helped it make any more sense. 

“Is that, like, a Batman thing? You’re just doing that to confuse me more. Does he have a cool insignia?”

Cas laughed mirthfully, shaking his head and taking Dean’s hand into his own, their fingers easily slotting together. “I think it's more like a Deadpool thing, what with all the dying and all that.”

Dean felt a surge of warmth for the man, for the way he told these stories, how effortlessly he paraphrased tales of constellations and nature, how he had a knack for integrating Dean’s comments into the stories, and there seemed to be an endless storage of them. Cas wasn’t kidding about how he’d read to escape his upbringing, if all these stories had been so impactful he could still recite them with his own, inspired flourish.

He straightened his back and took Cas's face between his hands gently, thumb brushing across his cheekbone, closing in slowly as if searching for permission. He rubbed at the scruff on Cas’s face that grew longer by the day, a little bit of salt among the pepper, neither of them having packed a shaving kit to save room for more important things.

 

Most of their more tender moments happened in the dark, as if the cameras couldn't see them under the canopy of stars, like it was more acceptable to get lost in a feeling for a long, long moment in the cover of darkness.

The last blood-red licks of the setting sun colored Cas's face, his lips slightly apart, eyes closing, and it was all the permission Dean needed. The soft press of Cas's lips quenching a thirst he'd felt all day, Cas’s hand combing through Dean’s hair a confirmation that the feeling was mutual, while Ra died to bring them night.

A night which begged the men to be intimate, to be close together, begging the skin on skin in wealth which just sleeping glued to each other didn’t satisfy.

So, laying on their grass bedding in the glow of the fire, Cas asked Dean to be the little spoon, tugging his cock to full hardness, breathing deep in and out behind the cover of Dean’s back, nibbling Dean’s ear, and gently lifting Dean’s thigh so he could slot his dick between them. 

The feel of that beautiful cock against Dean’s balls, against his taint, was exciting, making arousal buzz pleasantly in his stomach, but what was way more important was the closeness. It's soothing as all hell.

This wasn’t about being horny, or wanting to take each other apart. This was about belonging in this time and place, spending a secret moment completely alone together, and it was like an out of body experience. Enchanting.

Cas didn’t thrust, didn’t move, just let Dean warm his cock between his thighs, and embraced him, slowly, tenderly pressing kisses along Dean’s shoulders like he was going to go over every single one of his freckles. 

Half between the worlds of dream and wakefulness, thoughts dreamy and hazy, so incredibly relaxed, Dean’s heart settled at a decision while he hugged Cas’s strong forearm to his chest. His future was set, if Cas was willing.

Chapter Text

Day sixteen dawned, and the second there was enough light to be roaming around, Dean was tripping over his vulnerable feet with his heart in his throat, hauling bare ass to find the patch of African wormwood he'd spotted on their first trek to the camp. 

He swore on his life to the production people to be as fast as humanly possible, if he could just get going, alone, already, and had very nearly thrown a serious shit fit when the camerawoman handed him the fucking forehead strap-on. He didn't have time or patience for this fuckery. Cas was sick.

Cas was a shivering mess, his fever climbing, and it was all Dean could do to keep him hydrated, feeding him small sips of the boiled water. 

 

The night had been a living hell, keeping an eye on the fire while trying his damnest to offer the aching and sore Castiel some comfort, spooning the man from head to toe, blowing warm breaths into his hair, rubbing warmth in his arms, hoping against hope that the goosebumps pebbling his skin in a way that had to hurt would just disappear and Cas would be fine again.

It had even gotten to a point where one of the crew had stepped forth to ask if they needed to talk to a producer. If Cas wanted to tap out. Cas nearly bit the guy’s head off, teeth clattering, but a threatening glint in his eye that brooked no argument. That was the Cas Dean had come to know and… Well. Something. He sure as hell something.

Finally, Dean found the goddamn plants and shoved handfuls of the leaves and flowers into his satchel, the picture of miserable Cas replaying in his mind. What if the production decided it was best for Cas to leave anyway? What if he found the camp empty? What if he was left alone? How would he know what happened to Cas?

He tried to reason with his circling thoughts, to calm down, telling himself that it was probably nothing to agonize about. But the man had been burning up by the time Dean left, and the hike had felt like forever.

He practically sprinted his way back to the camp like there were hellhounds after him.

Dean tossed his GoPro to a guy uncaringly and rushed to Cas.

“ Hey, hey ,” he fell on his knees beside Cas, practically cooing, a knot of fear in the pit of his stomach. He shook him slightly, thankful when Cas roused from what looked more like unconsciousness than actual sleep.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied, opening his eyes groggily. He mumbled something incoherent, gaze slowly focusing on Dean. “You're back.” There was wonder in his voice.

“Yeah, Cas. I'm going to take care of you, just don't get delirious on me now, you hear?” Dean’s hands were shaking when he brushed Cas's sweaty hair back, off his forehead.

Cas's cheeks were ruddy and he could barely keep his eyes open. For a split second Dean was ready to call the damn producers himself, just to make sure Cas was safe. 

Cas's words got him back on track; “Did you find it?”

“Yes. I'm going to fix some for you right now.” Dean held Cas down when he made to sit up. “Get your rest, babe. Leave it to me.”

The water from last night he'd boiled was still hot enough, so Dean bruised the leaves in his fists and dropped them in the pot, willing the concoction to brew faster. If this didn't work, they were out of options, the possibility of something being seriously wrong with Cas was casting a dark shadow on Dean's thoughts. He went to Cas and helped him to rest his head on Dean's thigh, fingers combing soothingly through his sweat-damp hair.

 

They'd come to rely on one another here, in the middle of nowhere. It was said that survival was about adjusting to the situation, and that's pretty much exactly what they had done. Adjusted to the surroundings and each other.

Dean shut his eyes tightly, nipping the growing gloom in the bud. Being stuck here with nothing but himself to keep him company was unthinkable, so he wasn't going to think about it. Cas wasn't gone yet. Cas was right here, where Dean knew exactly where to find him.

“You're thinking so hard I can hear it,” Cas put a tired hand on Dean's shin, thumb rubbing a slow circle there. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Am I really that easy to read?” Dean got up carefully, trying not to jostle Cas too much.

“Not always. But most of the time your actions do speak louder than words. And sometimes it’s the other way around.”

Dean's mouth worked but nothing came out. He really had nothing to say to that. He knew all too well he wore his heart on his sleeve. He'd gotten burned enough times to know it as a fact.

He dipped his finger in the pot to test the temperature, and deemed it drinkable. He put it next to Cas and helped him up to a sitting position, maneuvering so that he could guide Cas to lean on his chest.

“I meant it as a compliment. Your openness makes it easy for me to be me,” Cas tried to turn to look at Dean and grunted. “My neck hurts. Every part of me hurts.”

“I bet it does. Now drink up.”

Cas's fever broke about an hour after Dean had managed to cajole him into drinking all of the mixture. Dean sighed in relief when Cas's eyes were clear when he looked up from where he was laying, head straightforwardly on Dean's lap, sweat beading on his forehead.

Dean smiled at him softly. “Feeling better?”

“I'm hungry,” Cas replied grumpily, brow furrowed and forehead wrinkled adorably, swiping a hand across his face. “I could do some very interesting things for a cheeseburger right now.” He sat up slowly, stretching his neck.

“If you promise to take it easy for the rest of the day, I'll see what I can do. Your method of payment sounds promising.” Dean leered and got up, taking the pot with him. 

They both needed water, and Cas could probably do with washing up a bit. There was no way he'd let Cas wander to the pond today. Not until he got his strength back, such as it was with their current diet of fruits only.

He made Cas promise to try to get some sleep and left to do Cas's bidding. Maybe he couldn't turn into a cheeseburger, but he sure could find Cas some of those wild peaches he liked.

The sight of a wild boar scurrying off like its tail was on fire made Dean's fingers itch for his bow. That one night had been the only one when they'd had any real proteins, some vultures having raided the rest of the meat.

He'd learned that Cas liked sweet things, when he'd bitten into a bitter Governor's plum and made the best pucker face Dean had seen in his life. That memory would never not be funny to him.

Dean caught himself smiling softly thinking about the man, and it stopped him in his tracks.

When did that happen? How had he let himself get so dependent on someone he couldn't imagine being stuck here without them? Be without them at all, if he was honest with himself, the ‘something’ raising its head again to the forefront of Dean’s mind.

Dean had come here to prove to himself that he could take care of himself in any situation by himself, and he'd somehow trampled headlong into one that he was loath to be alone in. And it was all Cas.

He started walking slowly, mentally shifting through their days together.

Their lazy days between morning and early evening, waiting for when the sun wasn't baking them alive before they could really do any actual surviving, were full of moments that made the time fly by, when it by all rights should've been dragging on endlessly. Even their silence had turned into something neither of them rushed to fill.

Often Cas's clever hands kneaded Dean's shoulders and he kissed the top of Dean’s head to signal it was his turn. The downright pornographic noises he made when Dean pressed his thumbs into a particularly hard knot. He was sure the bastard did it on purpose. More than once Dean had had to adjust his satchel to preserve the last illusion of modesty around here.

The nights, if pressed Dean would admit, were spent cuddling until they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs. Comfortable when by no definition he should've been comfortable. 

Happy.

Dean was well and truly fucked.

Determinedly, a stupefied smile on his lips, Dean picked up his pace and went looking for the adorable nerdy dude's favorite fruit.

Chapter Text

The darkness of the night had once again embraced them after a scorching day. Cas had collected some more of the aloe to soothe Dean's sore, tight, angry pink shoulders, but the rest of him had managed virtually unscathed.

It was the evening of day fifteen, the day when Dean had his heart in his throat out of fear of losing Cas, of having to spend the rest of the time (rest of his life, his subconscious decided to substitute,) here alone. Which sounded odd. He could spend weeks in solitary existence on his hunting and fishing trips, but now, being alone had seemed too much to handle.

Once the scare of Cas being airlifted out of here had passed, Dean had only barely allowed Cas to roam around, and only on Dean’s adamant condition that they went together. So the aloe situation had been sorted by both of them making the trip to the leaves, obediently wearing their GoPros, though the temptation to just shut them off and make good use of the time they would’ve managed to steal had been growing exponentially with every step.

Dean, as per his need to protect, had insisted that Cas rest and let Dean go do the heavy lifting, gathering firewood and finding sustenance. Much to Dean's surprise, Cas had agreed without argument. The fever really had taken a toll on him.

Now it was campfire and darkness, the random sounds of nature, and somehow they'd ended up with Dean sitting cross-legged on the ground with Cas's head once again pillowed on his thigh.

It had happened so naturally that Dean wasn't sure if he'd even noticed otherwise, so lost in thought staring at the flames, so comfortable in Cas's presence, but Dean had stumbled onto a thought that made him realize he was now caressing Cas's shoulder, and was gently massaging Cas's scalp and carding his fingers through his hair.

“Don't stop,” Cas mumbled drowsily, tilting his head to look up at Dean, who wasn't sure which expression he was sporting. Until he felt a smile take over his face. One reserved for situations which made his heart leap with love.

He blamed the flames in front of him. Fire had always been fascinating to him, as long as it was safely contained. There was something so primal about it, it brought out the deep side of him. What had startled him from his ministrations was simple; As his sometimes overactive mind had established earlier, he had feelings for Cas. And not just the 'pin him to the closet surface and fuck him senseless' kind.

Here he was, skin to skin with a man he'd probably have wet dreams about for the rest of his life, and awake jerk-off sessions if Dean was really honest with himself, fingers buried in Cas’s hair to muss it up further, and all he wanted was to kiss that confused look off his face and replace it with a pleased groan.

Dean swallowed hard and tried to refocus his thoughts. Something of a safer territory. Like hedgehogs or goldfish. Yellow jackets. Skunks. Anything to stop him from popping a chubby with Cas's head in his lap while his heart took this moment to start pounding harder.

He brushed Cas's hair off his forehead and returned to watching the flames, but he could still feel Cas's eyes on him.

“What's bothering you?” Cas made to sit up, but Dean held him down with a firm hand to his arm. Typical Cas – straight to the point, no pussyfooting around a subject, just diving in head first.

Dean let out a self-deprecating laugh and tilted his head back to seek wisdom from the skies. “What's bothering me is that we're here, and if we were anywhere else, life would be so much easier. So right now, everything is bothering me.” Dean waved a hand that encompassed both his frustration with the situation, and the surroundings.

“But if we weren't here, we wouldn't have met.” Cas said solemnly and went silent for a moment, both the men staring at the fire as if it held all the answers. “Unless you believe in destiny and fate,” Cas continued quietly. “In God's plan.”

Cas took Dean's hand, carefully lifted it off his shoulder and sat up on their grass bed, mirroring Dean's posture, cross-legged, and slid his hand along Dean's arm to curl his fingers around Dean's. “I believe we make our own destiny.”

Dean could only nod briefly, seeing there was more and listening, rapt. He squeezed Cas's hand silently to encourage him to continue.

Looking down, clearly thinking his words through before they left his mouth, Castiel added, “I was once so indoctrinated into believing that God could do no wrong, that he held the filaments of our lives in his hands and led us on our paths exactly, guiding us right to the places where we needed to go.” Cas glanced at Dean quickly, unsure. Dean took both his hands in his, webbing their fingers, and tilted his head in a kind of fashion he’d clearly adopted from Cas. This apparently helped, and Dean was briefly very proud of himself to have been able to offer this comfort.

“It took a long time to shake the last vestiges of those beliefs, but how can we be free, if there is a puppet master pulling our strings for his own amusement? Who is this God to make my decisions for me?” Cas’s breathtaking eyes gleamed in the dim light, almost glowing as the fire in the pit reflected on Cas’s face.

Sensing an old argument, Dean chose to stay mum still, quietly admiring the fire burning so blindingly brightly inside Cas. Dean had had his moments of digging his heels with his dad, but never anything on this scale. Faith had destroyed families.

Cas took a calming breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and squinted at Dean measuring what might be going on in Dean’s head, squeezing his hands to underline his words. “What's important is that we did meet. I don't understand why the circumstances matter.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean sighed, giving up his stewing in the matter, and stared into the cutest, crinkly, squinty eyes in the galaxy. And winked.

“A-haa.” Cas's features brightened considerably, nose scrunching when he smiled, understanding taking over. “Had we met at a bar, we'd’ve shared a drink and taken it from there, that's your point?” They let go of their grip on one another, Cas motioning between them with a leering grin.

“Basically, yes. It would have been easier.” Dean kicked a leg out and leaned back on his hands, watching Cas get up and grab their pot of water, watching that perfect ass walk away, those thighs like sinewy tree trunks, when Cas leaned down, Dean wanting nothing more than to take Cas’s flaccid cock in his mouth and suck him until he came down his throat in hot pulses. Dean’s tongue itched.

Cas returned while Dean adamantly did not stare at what would get his itch off efficiently, and thrust the vessel to Dean, a flirty grin forming on his lips. “Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Winchester? I know it's only water, but I'm assured this establishment carries only the freshest of spring waters.”

Chuckling, relaxing a little from his horndog thoughts, Dean took the pot with both hands, holding his pinky up for good measure, and took a tiny sip.He smacked his lips and closed his eyes as if enjoying the finest whiskey. “Excellent vintage, Mr. Novak. Very fine indeed.” He set the water aside and patted the space next to him, raising his brow. “Care to join me?”

Bowing dramatically to thank for the offer, Cas sat down, mere inches from Dean. For Dean, the distance might’ve as well been the Grand Canyon for how much he just wanted to throw Cas on the grass and really get to business.

“Do the circumstances matter, Dean?” Cas’s smile was happy, soothing Dean’s nerves with how calm Cas was about the situation.

With not entirely faked gravity, Dean shook his head with an answering grin, feeling lighter than he had since last night, before Cas took ill. And everything was fine.

Everything was absolutely fine, Dean realized and it kinda shook him.

All the melancholy was gone, and Cas had certainly made his point. Maybe they couldn't do whatever they pleased right now, but they could spend their time together, get to know each other, be as silly and playful as they wanted, as long as they played by the production's rules.

So Dean turned to Cas and closed the chasm between them, catching Cas’s jaw with his fingertips and kissed him slowly. Unhurriedly, Dean’s tongue licked over the tiny grooves on Cas’s lower lip, tasting each one, pausing to suck on a particularly delicious one, making Cas moan quietly and haul him closer. Cas's beard was long enough, same as Dean's, soft enough, that there was no worries of stubble burn, and Dean kind of missed the scratch. The additional sensation, any and all sensation he could get from Cas.

If kisses were all Dean was going to get, he'd take every single one Cas was willing to give and tuck them away to hold onto until the world crumbles.

 

Firelight painted phantom shadows behind Dean's eyelids, reminding him of his earlier thoughts.

At that same moment, before Dean had the chance to turn brooding again, Cas's hand fisted into Dean's short hair, just barely the right length for a good grip, just this side of too rough, and Dean gasped, his cock taking serious interest in the proceedings.

Cas’s passion flowed through into their kiss, him holding Dean still to devour his mouth, it all spoke of unfulfilled needs they were just going to have to manage. Once again under the blanket of the night, they had their moment of peace, and the sense of belonging Dean felt, which had been growing since their first handshake, was flooding his chest.

Cas was making a shelter for himself in Dean’s heart, and it seemed it was sturdy enough to last many a storms and rains, with a window to let the light in.

It was wonderful to know they were in this together.

Once again laying on their makeshift bedding, limbs tangled, their hard cocks leaking against each other's skin, neglected and denied, hidden from cameras and superfluous people, the men constantly maintaining their liplock, Dean knew for a fact they were in this together.

Chapter Text

It was the day of extraction, and both Dean and Cas were giddy with it.

Though their safe area was on the bigger side, a circle was still a circle, and both of them had been feeling a bit jittery for the past few days. The thoughts of home had filled their conversations the closer they got to this day.

They had tried to hunt another wild boar, but the ones they had half a chance to kill had been much too big. In the end, they'd settled for the surprising variety of fruits, and steeped mint-flavored tea from a balderjan plant.

 

Dean and Cas strapped their GoPros to their heads obediently and shook the hands of the camera people. They wouldn't be following them this time around. A round of pats on the back for good luck, a few words of encouragement, and the survivalists said goodbye to the place that had kept them safe for three weeks. Dean wasn't sure if he was going to miss it.

Castiel had taken the time and effort to gather some large, sturdy leaves and flexible, young bark of a tree to fashion together a poncho for Dean’s shoulders, to protect him from the sun for the time they’d be unable to find shade and Dean was sure to burn again. Calling it his superhero cape, Dean had watched as long, thick but expertly nimble fingers had sewed it together, and had been almost speechless from the thoughtfulness alone. His actions had once again spoken louder than his words.

They put their heads together to look at the map once again. The paper was crumpled and the edges were worn by having been on the bottom of Cas's satchel for all this time, being pummeled by fruit and roots and whatever had been carried in it for three weeks straight. Still, the map bore the 'X' they had come here to conquer, and were so close to achieving it.

With a final look back, they started the twenty-two mile hike across the woodlands. Even Dean’s feet had been toughened enough during their time here that he honestly didn’t mind, though he did kind of still miss his boots.

 

“What's the first thing you're going to do when you get home?” Cas asked, continuing a sort of game they had been playing; you had to give a different answer every time a question about going home was asked.

“Take Baby for a drive. She's been trapped under a tarp for way too long,” Dean smiled wistfully, throwing a glance at Cas under hooded eyes. “Don't get me wrong, she's a beauty, but she's thirsty. What about you?”

“Eat a cheeseburger.” The answer came quick enough that it had to have been instinctual.

“That's not fair, you've already used that.”

“That question was about what I'm going to eat first when I get home.”

“It's still cheating”, Dean admonished, nudging Cas as they walked side by side.

Cas nudged him back with a lopsided smirk, “Technically it isn't since it's an entirely different question.”

“You're impossible.”

“I’m incorrigible. There’s a difference,” Cas smirked and winked, leaving the innuendo hanging in the air.

 

Hearing it coming from afar, they stopped to turn their gazes to the skies and watched how a helicopter chop-chop-chopped above them, someone waving out the open door, and they waved back. As it came closer, Cas, in the teaching tone he sometimes just loved to adapt, an occupational hazard, and which never failed to make Dean smirk at the nerd warm heartedly, Cas informed that the flying vehicle was a Bell 505.

They were energized, urged on by the realization that the aircraft was getting footage of the very end of their journey.

If they could keep up their pace, with minimal breaks, they'd be done in nine hours, even barefoot and on the unforgiving terrain.

 

After long yet entertaining hours in good company, Dean was in the midst of singing his best friend Charlie's praises, how she'd programmed an awesome car tuning software for the garage, when Cas stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Look,” Cas pointed something out in the distance. “Is that…?”

In the distance, a huge black SUV came trundling down a dirt road, dust billowing in its wake.

Dean grabbed Cas in an excited embrace with a whoop, lifting him by the waist and trying to spin him around, but the guy was heavier than he looked, all the runner’s muscle weighing in Dean’s arms in a way that made him momentarily forget where they were.Cas's arms wrapped around Dean's neck just as tightly, and they spent a moment swaying alarmingly, nearly tilting over, having grown so comfortable in their nakedness it wasn’t even a thing. 

Dean felt like his face was splitting in half, he was grinning so hard, and when he pulled back, Cas seemed elated too, those astonishingly blue eyes shining and his radiant smile showing every single laugh line on his face, white teeth and gums showing. Dean nearly melted at the sight.

Dean squeaked indignantly and laughed breathlessly, doubling over to hang his head over Cas’s shoulder when Cas lifted him off his feet in turn.

Once Cas put him down, his radiant smile was enough for Dean to swoop in, Cas's GoPro tossed away and dropped to the ground when it collided with Dean's. His lips were on Cas's, quick kisses full of teeth clacking together by accident since they couldn’t stop giggling and kissing, heady with the confirmation that this was really happening.

They came apart when the car stopped and a woman walked over, bottles of water in her hands. She introduced herself as Naomi, a producer of the show, and didn’t seem overly impressed watching the pair whoop, overjoyed from winning this thing, and Dean shaking his water bottle like it were champagne, pouring half of it on Cas’s head. 

Laughing his ass off, Cas shook his head, sending water droplets everywhere and grabbed Dean’s face between his large hands, planting one more, very wet kiss on his lips.

They'd made it. Just like that. The mood was celebratory, fucking unreal . Dean’s head was spinning and he couldn’t stop touching Cas, ending up walking to the car with their arms linked by their elbows, Dean’s Leafman cape barely holding on, forgotten.

 

The ride to the production HQ took about two hours, during which time they were relieved of their cameras and microphones disguised as necklaces. It seemed like magic to see buildings and even a gaggle of tourists, since for all they knew about the world outside their own, Cas hadn't been taught to prepare for the apocalypse for nothing and the world had really ended, and they and the camera crew were the only ones left in the world.

Once they arrived at the glorified cabin, clad in fluffy white bathrobes, they were escorted to a room which held two cots with actual sheets and soft looking pillows, Cas's luggage and Dean's duffel, filled with stuff they'd brought from civilization.

A new cameraman had started following them around, and Dean couldn't help his irritation building. This dude was up their asses and not in the fun way, compared to the distance they'd had with the crew at the camp.

They were shown the bathroom, complete with an actual shower, but after relieving themselves, the shower had to wait since there was the table . A true table of plenty; Pretzels, jelly beans, hot fries and ketchup, cartons of orange juice, a jug of chocolate milk, Cheetos, and were those PB and J sandwiches? All things they’d listed they might like to have once they got back from their ordeal.

Cas made a beeline for the peanut butter and jelly like he'd never seen food before, while Dean hovered over the table, unable to decide where to start. He grabbed a handful of Cheetos and stuffed them into his mouth, groaning at the salty taste after way too many fucking fruits. He crammed a few fries in, too, and turned to Cas, giving him a huge grin, the food bulging his cheeks like a chipmunk's.

Beaming, Cas reached to brush some crumbs off Dean's jaw and bit into his sandwich again. Cas’s eyes fluttered closed. “I've missed these.”

 

The hot water streaming on Dean's back was heavenly. The scent of soap went to his head when he started scrubbing himself squeaky clean for the first time in three weeks.

He made sure every nook and cranny was thoroughly washed, going his entire body over three times before he was satisfied. Stepping out of the shower, with a smidgen of guilt, he hoped there was still enough hot water for Cas, too.

The towel was just on the right side of coarse, and Dean rubbed himself until he was bright pink and sufficiently dry. He turned to the mirror and unzipped his toiletry bag, rummaging for his shaving kit, and went to work. Three weeks worth of beard was waiting to be dealt with, and he couldn't wait to look like himself again. Spraying a dollop of shaving cream on his palm, he got to work.

 

Cas slipped through the door as soon as Dean got out of the bathroom, shutting it to his face. Shrugging, Dean went to dress himself and found that the cornucopia table had sprouted a couple bottles of beer.

He dug a pair of soft-worn jeans and a Metallica t-shirt out of his duffel and didn't really give a rat's ass that they smelled a bit musty. They could air out while he was wearing them. After donning his attire, he rubbed his hands together and went to grab a beer. The first sip slid down his throat like ambrosia. 

His clothes, on the other hand, felt pretty fucking weird on him.

Cas came back in the room and Dean's brain forgot he was drinking from his bottle, frozen in place, save for swallowing hard.

Wearing jeans and a powder blue t-shirt, his face shaved and clean, his usually wild hair sticking up even crazier where he has been rubbing it dry, Cas was a sight to behold.

Dean tried to adjust himself discreetly and glared venomously at the cameraman following them around.

They were served a light dinner in the kitchen. Food that Dean would have normally deemed boring since it was designed not to upset their stomachs after three weeks of sustaining on so little, but he devoured every morsel and almost licked the plate clean.

Soon afterwards Cas yawned widely, and a producer told them they were free to go to bed. Their part was done. There would be no more cameras up their business from this moment on, the production had gotten everything they wanted from the contestants. 

The official part was over, though their flight back home wasn’t until the day after tomorrow.

 

After thanking everyone politely, they hightailed it back to their room, Dean crowding Cas against the door as soon as it was shut.

He pressed his nose to Cas's neck, inhaling deep. The clean soap scent mingling with what was so undeniably Cas was intoxicating. That, and the almost surreal feel  of freedom to do what they wanted without anyone seeing.

There really was nobody watching them, nobody cared what they did behind closed doors.

They hadn't had a second’s moment to themselves, aside from the few lucky moments of hasty blowjobs when apparently some sand had gotten into the camera equipment and they had been able to steal away from the camp without proof. So understandably the energy surrounding them had been tortuously electric for days. Now that they were alone, Dean felt desperate to act on it.

Cas pulled Dean flush against himself roughly and lifted Dean's face up with demanding fingers. The sun was setting, and Cas's eyes were dark gray where there should have been ocean blue for Dean to dive in. He slapped the switch on the wall, and a light bulb lit the room with its yellowish light.

Dean didn't get much time to admire the view when Cas was on him, kissing hungrily, groaning into Dean's mouth and mouthing at his jaw when Dean slid his thigh between Cas's.

They broke apart for long enough to yank off their shirts, mouths crashing together again.

Cas's hands went to the fastening of Dean's jeans, and it was alarming how they slunk down lower on Dean’s hips too easily after opening one button. He hadn't realized how much weight he'd lost.

He discarded the thought, deft fingers unzipping Cas's jeans in turn and palming his cock through his underwear. He was already so hard there was a wet spot greeting Dean. Getting rid of the boxers, Dean paused just for a hot minute to wrap his hand around the silky hardness, for a split second his resolve almost crumbling and Dean falling to his knees to suck Cas down, to drink right from the source.

Dean kicked their jeans and underwear away from underfoot and began leading Cas to the bunk, shuffling backwards until his legs hit the edge. “I want you to fuck me,” he said hoarsely, voice low enough he hardly recognized it himself, searching Cas's eyes. “Lube?”

“I have a packet. I expected to have time for myself after the extraction.”

“But you're uncut,” Dean half asked intelligently, the equation not computing as his own already aching cock demanded attention right the fuck now.

Cas gave him an eyeroll, unamused. “I have fingers, Dean.”

“Oh. Oh! I love a man who plans ahead,” Dean pecked a kiss to Cas's mouth and let go of him long enough for him go find the lube.

In no time at all Dean was on his back on the cot with Cas kneeling between his legs, squeezing out a dollop from the packet on his fingers and slicking them up. It was a tight fit for two grown men's sexual activities, but they’d make do.

They’d have to keep quiet. Although nobody could mercifully see them, the place was brimming with production members, and though it might not come as a surprise to exactly nobody that their newest Unclothed And Fearful stars were fucking each other’s brains out the first moment they had to themselves, there was no need to announce it.

 

Gently, Cas opened Dean up with slick fingers, Dean thumbing the sharp rise of Cas's hips restlessly. Dean had to bite his lip to keep his moans from outsiders before they crescendoed into public entertainment.

“C’mon already, Cas, fill me up already, sweetheart. Been waiting for this for so long,” Dean tugged Cas’s hand insistently. Cas pushed his knees towards Dean’s chest and placed his hands on Dean’s inner thighs, pushing so that Dean’s legs fell further apart, Dean arching his back eagerly.

Cas guided himself slowly by grabbing the base of his leaking cock, the bluntness of the slick head pushing in relentlessly, stealing Dean’s breath away with how perfect it was when it slid in and Dean’s ass convulsed around the sweet intrusion.

Dean forced his eyes to stay open, to watch Cas, to watch the way his mouth fell open when he thrust steadily deeper.

Cas curved over Dean, leaning on his elbows, and Dean hooked his legs around Cas’s waist, hauling him in, hands sliding over the shifting muscles of Cas's broad, strong back when he began fucking Dean in slow, decadent thrusts.

This was exactly what Dean had dreamed about. The ebb and flow of this, the way he was filled just right by Cas’s thick cock, Cas all over him. He moaned quietly, Cas's movements quickening in time of Dean's insistent bearing down, his rush to get to the crest of his pleasure immediate, and which eluded him so irritatingly he gritted his teeth. He just needed a little bit of the right push. 

Lowering his hips, Castiel angling himself just so, Dean groaned loudly into Cas’s mouth as Cas’s cock finally brushed over his prostate over and over again, Cas picking up pace, his breaths and guttural grunts harsh and skiddering right into Dean’s spine, adding fire to the fuel. Dean, unable to do more than hold on and try to keep quiet, his own gruff grunts loud in his ears.

Cas shifted his weight to one side and wrapped his hand around Dean's cock, stroking in time of his thrusts, a helpless whine erupting from that deliciously masculine chest. 

Cas twisting his wrist with every upstroke, staring at Dean’s face with a look of awe. “Dean, you’re so tight, so amazing, so perfect, so beautiful, I‘m gonna, may I--” The end of the words swallowed up by Cas’s keening moan.

As good as verbal consent, Dean slapped his hands onto Cas’s ass, urging him on even further in, harder, voice nearly gone being so deep with lust. “I know, babe, just a little more, a little more, I'm right there with you, come in me,” Dean encouraged and lifted his head to catch Cas’s lips with his own in a sloppy facsimile of a kiss, to catch Cas's breathy moans as they began to get beyond Cas’s control.

In the next blink, Dean came hard with a gasp, locking up, toes curling, ass clenching around Cas’s cock forcefully, white noise taking over the sounds in the room while his cock pulsated and throbbed, shooting bursts of hot come in ribbons against Cas’s skin and his own. 

Dean smiled blissfully through his haze when he felt Cas's thrusts stutter and the tell-tale kick of Cas’s cock inside him, filling him up with Cas’s seed in long spurts, Dean feeling feeble pulses for a long time after Cas had already stilled. 

A sense of peace thrumming through Dean’s veins, a feeling he wasn’t very familiar with, Dean held Cas inside himself until Cas’s cock softened and slipped out, followed by come leaking out, Cas only adjusting his hips a little to slot himself with Dean’s body. Dean wouldn’t have let him go yet anyway, fulfillment expanding in his chest.

It took a good, long while for the men to gather themselves, neither one wanting to part from kissing languidly between affectionate smiles and words, at last in no hurry, just tasting each other and memorizing every soft touch. 

Finally they untangled for long enough for a quick cleanup, suddenly exhausted in the way that only came with a thorough fucking, and for Cas, Dean realized with a pang of regret, to slump into his own bed instead of crushing Dean in the too-small bed by sleeping on top of him.

 

“Night, Cas,” Dean whispered, barely holding off from reaching for Cas in the dark, turning the aborted motion into stretching his back in a curve, holding his breath, and willing himself to relax down to his toes on the breath out.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Dean could hear the tender smile in Cas’s voice.

Turning onto his side, Dean kind of definitely missed their bedding beside the fire at the camp. At least it had had space for two.

Chapter Text

Dean woke up with a start, bleary and a heavy head, his joints achy, feeling an awful lot like hungover. He'd only had that one beer. And his surroundings were unfamiliar. Where the flying fuck was he?

He sat up slowly, taking in the fact that he was in an actual building, and checked the other bed on the other side of the room. It was empty. His heart informed that somebody important should’ve been right there.

Clad only in his boxers and t-shirt that he slept in, Dean wandered into the small kitchen, finding no one there. He ventured out of the open door, swallowing down the feeling of anxiety creeping into his bones.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas was sitting on a foldable chair on the patio, a mug dangling precariously in his hands, and Dean could relax again, the memory of this place returning with the sight of Cas being right here with him.

Coffee. Nothing else registered in his brain and it itched at him like a motherfucker. Four-oh-four page not found.

Cas stood up and walked over to Dean, thrusting the mug into Dean's hand; “Hold this. Don't go anywhere.” Cas winked before disappearing inside, while Dean obeyed and held the mug with both hands, staring unseeingly into the dark void that was black coffee.

Cas was back just moments later with another mug and a thermos which, hopefully, was full. Otherwise it was doubtful Dean could get his eyes open all the way today.

After handing the other mug to Dean, Cas produced another chair seemingly out of nowhere and flicked it open one-handed. He gestured for Dean to sit down.

“Where is everybody?”Squinting to see straight, Dean made a slightly flailing grabby motion towards the thermos, but missed his target. 

Opening the container, Cas gave him a worried look but poured the coffee without argument. “They went to shoot some scenery coverage for the show. Helicopter, remember? Dean. Dean! What's wrong!?”

And Dean's world tilted.

He woke up to Cas kneeling down beside him on the floor and swiping a cool, damp cloth over his brow. “What happened?”

“You fainted, fell off the chair. I was afraid you hit your head. And you're burning up.” Cas helped him up and supported him as he stumbled. The sturdy form of Cas and the arm around his waist were a blessing since he felt dizzy the moment he was rising on his feet.

Pausing to reorient Dean every few steps, they managed to get him to his bed.

 

The production's doctor, a severe looking man with white-gray hair and some biblical name, had given him paracetamol and drew some blood. He'd informed that it'd have to be sent to a laboratory for further testing as the instant CRP test had come back inconclusive. All Dean could do was wait and feel awful in more ways than one.

Cas had been hovering over him for hours now. He'd been going back and forth, bringing Dean food and drinks, and generally fussing around him until Dean had reached his breaking point and snapped at him, asking if Cas was going to wipe his ass for him too.

And then Dean felt like the biggest dick on the planet when Cas looked like he'd been slapped, a quiet “ You took care of me when I needed it ” his only response before leaving the room. Meek was a look on Cas which Dean could happily live his life without. In all honesty he didn’t even know why he was being an ass. He just felt like shit ran twice over, and his nerves were on the edge with the pounding headache and the constant chills that he couldn’t stand to be touched.

Feeling marginally better, Dean got out of bed on shaky legs, leaning heavily against walls to keep vertical and tracked Cas down. Dean found him standing outside, apparently staring at nothing.

Regrouping and steadying himself, concentrating hard, Dean went to Cas wordlessly, begging for forgiveness with everything he could muster on his face. He sought Cas's eyes, slowly sliding his hands over Cas's arms and further around his waist. Seeking permission, Dean held him loosely, and once Cas's eyes softened, Dean kissed him softly, just pressing his lips against Cas’s for as long as it took for Cas to return the kiss.

“Are we okay?”

“We're okay,” Cas nodded. “I keep forgetting I'm not responsible for your well-being anymore.” He turned and went back inside, leaving Dean to find his own way back to his bunk with a frown on his face. Okay so they weren’t okay.

It was a relief when Cas came into their room with a glass of orange juice for Dean and a refreshed mug of coffee for himself, and sat on the edge of Dean's cot.

Cas wagged a deck of playing cards between his fingers. “I hope you play.”

Dean shrugged. “It's one way to pass the time.” 

“Are you feeling up for it, though?”

“I’m feeling better, but I’d rather just lay down for a week,” Dean confessed, feeling physically weak and mentally anxious. He wanted to right his attitude towards Cas’s care now that he was more clear headed. “I’m sorry for being a jackass, Cas, I really am. I’d’ve done the same thing for you in your place. Thank you for caring.”

“Of course I care,” Cas huffed, clearly incinced by the insinuation that he was acting out of anything but affection. “We need to rearrange some furniture around here so I can show you.”

Dean leered the best he could, a glint in his eye despite his current slightly terrifying medical issues. They didn’t even know if it was contagious. Should he be in quarantine? “I don’t think I’m up for that, but check in again after I’ve got this bug out of my system.”

Cas chuckled, amused and so very soft, and Dean’s growing worry faded into nothing when Cas kissed him slowly, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and just held him.

Cas pressed his forehead against Dean’s with half-shut eyes, speaking in hushed tones through his smile. “Though I will be taking up on that offer, that’s not what I had in mind,” and he rose up, turning to his own cot.

Dragging the thing across the room, causing a screeching noise that would rival a banshee, making Dean’s head feel like there was a blacksmith hard at work inside his skull, Cas motioned for Dean to get out and out of the way, and pushed the cots together.

With the sides being metal and impossible to lie down on, Cas arranged their mattresses sideways on the cots, tucking the sheets in to close the gap tightly, the hard metal side was as good as gone, creating a queen sized bed comfortable for two.

Cas grinned and bowed, making the ‘you’re most welcome’ motion with his arm as Dean climbed on, laying on his side back against the wall.

For a second Cas looked pissed off like an angry bee. “Why didn’t we think about this last night?”

Dean chuckled, patting the bed. “Exhaustion? Whatever it was, we can make it all better now, if my angel would care to join me.”

Cas went happily, snuggling up, burying his face into the crook of Dean’s neck and nudging his knee between Dean’s thighs like second nature, getting as close as he could into Dean’s open arms.

A minute passed, and Dean felt like something was seriously off. He started to get antsy, so uncomfortable he squirmed and Cas seemed to be shifting and stirring too.

“Is this okey?” Cas asked, pulling back to look into Dean’s eyes, worry written all over his face.

“Yes, of course, abso-fucking-lutely." Dean cupped Cas face with his hand. "But I feel kinda…” Dean shook his shoulders, demonstrating his discomfort and paused to search Cas’s honest eyes, then plowed ahead recklessly. “Wanna get naked? It’s just that–”

“Yes! Way too many clothes,” Cas said excitedly, both of them realizing exactly what was wrong. 

After a hasty wriggling and shucking and tossing of t-shirts, pajama pants and boxers, they cuddled back together, Dean feeling a whole lot better when Cas’s thigh slotted between his legs and he could feel the skin of this amazing man. Suddenly everything felt right.

Dean smiled when he heard Cas sniffing around at his neck and pressing a kiss there. He got it. Dean himself had become addicted to the very scent of Castiel, and the happiness of it being mutual bloomed in his chest like an African daisy opening and reaching for the sun in the morning.

They fell asleep there, their bare flaccid cocks nestled between them. This was about intimacy. Closeness. Comfort. And Dean felt like he belonged like he never had before. Exquisite. Awesome.

 

African tick bite fever. It was a mouthful, but nothing that a couple weeks of antibiotics wouldn't deal with and Dean was set to fly home as scheduled. Which was tomorrow.

Why did it have to have such an ominous ring to it? Why did it feel like he’d rather stay here for a little longer, maybe go see some sights with Cas?

In the plane their seats had been set in different rows, so Dean had to deal with his bubbling fear of flying on his own. He already hummed Metallica in his head, had been since boarding, and he knew it would be audible in a moment.

It would have been bad enough even without the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, how everything was different now that they were out of South Africa. Maybe the goddamned Vegas rule applied. What the fuck was he going to do?

They hadn't talked much on the way to the airport, or at the terminal. Cas seemed to be in a quiet, contemplative mood, and Dean didn't want to bother him, drawing a blank on what to say or do in a situation like this. Their adventure was over, they were going in completely different directions once they landed.

So Dean sat in his seat, bile rising in his throat out of pure phobia, fear of many, many things regarding Cas, and the horror of uncertainty. Dean mulled it over and over in his head. Did he want it to end? Was there even anything between them to really end? He sat up straight and tried to find Cas's head among the passengers. 

He couldn't locate him. Dean stood up and headed for the toilet. 

Seeing Cas on the way would be just a happy accident.

He had to shove himself past a steward, and when he got to the seats Cas was sitting at, he found the man leaning his forehead against the seat before him, having found a comfortable enough position to be fast asleep. Dean left him to it, too uncertain. What would he even say if he woke Cas up? He went to take an angry piss and returned to his seat without looking at Cas on the way back. Maybe it would be easier this way.

 

Back on US soil, Cas was suddenly right there , waiting for Dean to get off the plane, face tired and irritated and clothes rumpled. They went through customs and walked together to the luggage carousel in silence. 

The burdening silence hung heavy in the air, making it difficult to breathe, but every time Dean tried to say something, the words died in his throat. He drummed a nervous beat to the seam of his jeans.

Their bags arrived way too soon and Cas hauled his luggage off the conveyor belt, then picked something out of his jeans pocket and wordlessly pressed it into Dean's palm. A piece of paper.

Walking away backwards, rolling his suitcase with one hand, Cas made a finger gun with the other and winked with the saddest smile Dean had seen in his entire existence. Then he turned around, just another person milling about in a nondescript airport.

Dean felt like screaming. He would have, if his mouth hadn't gone numb and his tongue felt thick like it had been stung by a wasp. He'd seen the pictures of the poor dogs sharing that fate. His heart twisted while feeling like it ripped in two.

He opened the folded paper with shaking fingers, almost ripping it.

It had a phone number scribbled on it.

Xx Castiel

Dean fished out his phone and cursed it into the deepest pits of hell when it took too long to turn on. His heart hammered inside his rib cage when he dialed the number, and pressed the phone to his ear. Chances were Cas's phone wasn't on either. 

Maybe Cas hadn't meant, like, right now.

Well, It was too late now, since it was already ringing. Dean had to clutch his chest at the rustling sound after the third ring notifying him that he was connected.

“Hello?”

Definitely Cas. “Don't ever leave me like that again, Cas. I swear to god you gave me a heart attack.” The chuckle on the other end was downright angelic to Dean's ears.

“Dean, are you still at the luggage carousel?”

“Yes?”

“Stay there. Don't move. Don't hang up.”

“Okay, I'm right here, staying right here, though I'm not sure why.”

“I'm there now.”

Dean looked with suddenly blurry eyes to where Cas had vanished just moments ago and blinked hard, swallowing thickly. His breath hitched. Cas looked absolutely disheveled, hair sticking out in every direction like he'd been running his hand through it nervously. He was willing to bet he wasn't much more presentable himself.

Cas walked briskly over to Dean, a wide smile doing all the gorgeous things to his face that Dean loved so, so much, putting away his phone only when he was two steps away.

In stark relief to how careful and aloof they'd been with one another during the past day, they crashed into an embrace.

It was only after capturing Cas's lips in a long kiss that Dean realized he'd been paralyzed to the core with terror of not having this anymore. They were suddenly so far removed from having lived in each other's proverbial pockets for three weeks, it was hard to wrap his mind around and put it all into perspective. Reluctantly, he let go when Cas started to pull away.

“I want to take you on a second date,” Cas blurted, eyes wide with a hint of fear and a lot of trepidation.

“Can we stay at a motel for a few nights after that?” Dean smiled, a huge swarm of butterflies taking flight in his stomach.

“Sure,” Cas flashed a relieved, if a tired grin. “I don't know what your intentions are, but I should warn you. You've already seen me naked.”

Chapter Text

A whole month. A whole entire, fucking lonely month surviving on phone calls and FaceTiming. Again.

And there he was, the source of Dean's daydreams, his wet dreams, the man of his dreams in general, clad only in his orange boxers when Dean arrived, squinting through the narrow opening, the door only slightly ajar to his small apartment consisting of a kitchenette, a small living area and an even smaller bedroom.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

That confirmed it was indeed Dean, and Cas threw the door open, hauling Dean in by the lapel of his jacket, making Dean drop his duffel at the entrance and return Cas's welcome kiss with gusto, hands automatically seeking the back of Cas's head and fingers mussing his hair with familiarity while kicking the door closed.

“Hey, hey,” Dean managed softly between kisses with a delighted laugh, taking Cas’s face between his hands to look at him properly. “Let me get my boots off.”

Cas huffed in feigned annoyance but let Dean go, albeit reluctantly, the tenting of his boxers speaking its own story.

“You been saving that for me?” Dean eyed the bulge with sudden greed.

“A month is too long, Dean,” Cas unceremoniously shoved his hand into his boxers and wrapped a hand around his cock, making Dean want to swat his hand away. That was his.

“I hear you.” He could feel his own cock answering the call of miles of tanned, bare skin, the fantastically masculine shape of Cas’s body, not to mention the demanding, horny tone Cas had going on.

He finally managed to rid himself of the boots and the jacket, standing there in his socked feet and a t-shirt, arms wide and open.

Cas hugged his arms around Dean’s shoulders and plunged his tongue into Dean’s mouth like he was starving, and Dean kissed back the best he could, matching the need.

Cas's nimble fingers made short work of Dean’s jeans, puddling them around his ankles while Cas got rid of the shirt and fingered Dean’s nipple along the way, knowing full well it would alight Dean's fire as surely as Cas's tongue in his ass.

“I already prepared myself.” Cas rumbled straight into Dean's ear, making the hairs on his arms raise and a bullet of lust lob itself into his stomach. 

“All you have to do is slide right in,” Cas took the lobe of Dean's ear between his teeth gently.

“Jesus Christ, Cas,” Dean breathed, swallowing hard while toeing off his jeans and kicking them off somewhere. “You're not playing fair.”

“I don't care. I missed you, Dean.” Cas took Dean's hands and walked him to the bedroom, stopping just beside the bed to kiss him deeply.

Cas maneuvered Dean so that his legs hit the bed, and slid his underwear down, Dean's cock jutting up proudly.

Cas grinned and swiped a finger over the tip to catch a drop of precome, then sucked the digit into his mouth. Dean groaned. “You're killing me here, Cas. Just so you know.” He made short work ridding himself of his red-black flannel and black t-shirt, suddenly in a real hurry.

“That is certainly not my intention. Unless a bit of la petit mort counts.” Cas grinned and pushed him on the bed, discarding Dean’s boxers while Dean arranged himself lengthwise, lewdly spreading his legs and giving a couple pulls on his cock.

Sitting back on his heels at the end of the bed, removing Dean’s socks, Cas eyed Dean hungrily; “On another thought, maybe a change of plans,” Cas winked.

“Huh?” Was all Dean could muster, his mind thrown for a spin from thinking he was getting ridden wildly, to whatever Cas had in mind.

“You need to turn over to get your surprise,” Cas smiled widely, then licking his lips lasciviously, pressing his hand to Dean’s hip to urge him over.

“Copy.” Obediently, eagerly, Dean flopped onto his front, the pit of his stomach broiling with anticipation. Cas loved to eat him out, and did it so incredibly well it was a miracle that Dean was the first person to ever have gotten to experience Cas’s wet, clever tongue in their asshole.

Cas shuffled forward between Dean’s legs, petting his hands along Dean’s legs from the bottoms of his feet, up to his ass, and tucked his hands under Dean’s stomach, bedding over to press kisses to his back, going slowly lower, kiss by kiss, lick by lick, and for Dean, the temperature in the room began to spike and he started sweating.

Soon enough, Cas wiggled his hands down and under Dean’s hips, pulling him up so that Dean was on his wide-spread knees, elbows to the bed, head bent and against the headboard, a pillow softening the pressure.

Ass in the air, offering himself for Cas to devour, back in a beautiful curve that Cas stroked his palms over with a dreamy sigh that made Dean wish from the bottom of his heart he could see Cas. Maybe they should invest in some kind of a mirror arrangement. He’d have to ask Cas as soon as his arousal allowed him to form more coherent thoughts.

Dean trembled with a groan when Castiel pulled his buttocks apart wide and blew on his hole, adding a lave with the flat of his tongue, humming with pleasure. The intimacy of the act always made Dean feel warmth like no other, like Cas was making him weightless, soaring, holding him safe, loving so deeply.

Cas wasted no time spearing his tongue and thrusting past the tight ring of muscle, Dean groaning shamelessly as his pleasure started to build right away. He was so sensitive there, he could live off of Cas’s cock filling him, off of Cas’s four fingers twisting inside of him to the point that there had been tentative talk about taking it a bit further, and he absolutely cherished the intense attention Cas was giving his clenching hole right now.

Tonguefucking Dean for a long, divine spell, Cas’s stubble rubbing against Dean’s delicate skin adding layers to the act that made Dean shiver all through his spine, Cas latched his lips onto Dean’s hole, moaning softly and humming against Dean’s sensitive skin and sending indescribable sensations through Dean’s core, Cas’s world’s softest lips sucking at Dean’s rim rhythmically while pushing his tongue in as far as he could. 

Dean felt Cas’s saliva begin to drool out, all down to his balls, and it only served to entice Dean a notch further into a fervor of arousal, knowing Cas couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help how mouth-watering eating Dean out was for him. The obscene slurping sounds and Cas’s blissed-out sighs went straight to Dean’s cock, making him writhe and tremble at Cas’s grace and mercy.

The gentlest nip of Cas’s teeth made Dean push back hard, moaning unabashedly, blissed out. Then Cas was back to licking and laving ravenously, moaning beautifully against his opening, the reverberations, the insistent press of each pass of his tongue sending shivers down to Dean’s copiously leaking cock.

Dean’s balls began to tighten up when the sensations coalesced into one big burst about to happen. And then Cas spread him wider, added to the stretch, while shoving his tongue in and flicking rapidly at the tightened rim.

Dean’s orgasm was so close he could taste it, it was right on the tip of his tongue, a taste of ozone flooding his mouth, and Cas kept going, Dean feeling minutely how wet Cas’s face was licking and sucking his asshole, making Dean soar.

Cas cradled Dean’s balls, cupping them with his thick, long fingers, pushing them up, rolling them firmly, to make Dean groan and whine from the bottom of his lungs when he could draw enough breath to make noise. 

Without a warning, Cas pressed his thumb firmly to Dean’s taint, moving the digit up and down with constant pressure, sending bolts and bolts of sheer pleasure through Dean, massaging his prostate from the outside.

Cas let his thumb move up against the rim of Dean’s hole every now and then, thrusting his tongue in as far as he could, licking deep and pulling the ring of muscle with both his thumb and tongue, stretching him, driving Dean wild.

Dean could come from this alone. Dean was about three seconds from blowing his load, and he had to do something about it; “ Cas, Cas , sweetheart,” Dean moaned, whined, unable to control his voice. “Let me fuck you, baby, I’m gonna blow my load right now if you don’t stop, please let come into you.” Dean’s babbling ended when he grit his teeth hard, hands fisting the sheets and stomach clenched against the impending, too soon, end of this.

Instantly Cas’s tongue left Dean’s ass and his hand moved from his balls to grip tight around the base of Dean’s cock, Dean head drooping in counterintuitive relief from the orgasm delay with a gust of a sigh. Bless Cas’s clever fingers.

A few moments passed, Dean’s breath stuttering as he tried to calm down, Cas’s fingers a vice on his cock.

“Okay, I’m good, I’m good,” Dean breathed, laying down and turning over as Cas let go of his dick. The sight that greeted him stopped time itself, freezing Dean in a moment he wanted to keep forever, the very picture of lust before him. Cas’s face was wet with his own saliva, cheeks red, eyes blown wide and nearly black with arousal, spit-slick lips looking like he’d given seven blow jobs, all puffy and perfect . 

How Cas had managed to keep his own hands away from himself was a mystery. The look on Cas’s face reminded Dean of those first hastily exchanged blow jobs in the Bushveld, where Cas had been shaking with the need to come, but had held off for both their benefit. Jesus, but Dean’s man had some serious self-restraint. 

“ So glorious ,” Dean whispered, transfixed, hands seeking for Cas to come closer.

With a smooth move, Cas threw his leg over Dean's hips and bent down to give Dean a deep kiss, while Dean reached over to the nightstand where he’d spotted the lube, Cas probably needing a bit of a refill. 

Cas's grunt of apparent frustration made its way into the play, impatient, but Dean didn’t want the kiss to end, not yet, when he could smell his own musk on Cas, taste it on his tongue, with the surety that Cas enjoyed it thoroughly. It only accomplished both their arousals to get more frenzied, needier. They had to break apart from the kiss, but it was a deep loss, one that would soon be remedied.

Cas sat high up on his knees, giving Dean room to lube his cock and reached behind himself, lining Dean up and sitting straight down, taking all of Dean in one slick slide.

Cas's eyes slid closed as Dean breached him, an ardent groan rising from his chest while Dean was struck breathless, managing small whimpering sounds and clutching on Cas's hips like his life depended on it.

Cas smoothed his hands across Dean’s chest, sitting up straight and throwing his head back with a long sigh. “I missed this.” Cas lifted his head slowly, waiting for Dean to open his eyes. “The feel of you. Being with you. I want to cook you breakfast in the morning.”

Lifting himself up with those powerful thighs, Cas set a slow pace, making them both feel every increment of Dean's cock sliding in and out, both of them fully aware that the patience would be well rewarded in the end.

Caressing Dean’s sides, Cas began thumbing Dean's nipples, already erect as if starving for attention, and Cas was determined to give them just that. He toyed with the other gently, while pinching the left bud of Dean's nipple, the sensation hovering between too much and not enough. Dean pressed his fingertips to Cas's thighs, mouth open and panting, sweat pooling on his chest while Cas continued the steady pace relentlessly.

“I need to kiss you,” Dean pleaded between breaths, reaching for Cas who came down willingly, planting his elbows beside Dean's head.

Dean hugged Cas to himself, burying his fingers in the wild hair of the man he knew was something incredibly special, and not only because of his lifestyle. There was something of the wilderness they both loved in Cas’s own nature, a freedom to his soul that came with adventure.

Dean’s thought process was stopped short when Cas swiped his tongue over Dean's lower lip, and then planted those plush lips to his softly. The kiss was as unhurried as their lovemaking.

For all Cas had thought it urgent to get naked, there was none of that now. This was about closeness, with the bittersweet edge of them having to part ways on Sunday again, only so that they could arrange another weekend as soon as possible.

Dean had to move, the sweet pressure in his balls building up again, so he wrapped his arm around Cas and held his head in place so he could keep kissing him. He wanted all of Cas.

Cas got the hint and lifted his ass, curving his back so that Dean had room to go to town and fuck into him properly.

They met in the middle like they were made to be doing this, Dean thrusting up and Cas meeting him halfway, each stroke making Cas gasp and clutch Dean's shoulders, their kisses a sharing of breath more than a touch, but neither of them closed their eyes.

It was like electricity buzzing inside Dean's skull as Cas’s intense eyes bore straight into Dean's soul.

“Fuck me like that, and I'm gonna come in seconds,” Cas panted, his neck tendons cording with holding back. “I want you to come inside me, Dean. Please.”

This was something Dean was already familiar with, Cas getting off on Dean spilling inside him. He'd even came once while giving Dean a blowjob, not even touching himself. It was definitely something to investigate further.

“I'm close, babe, I just need--” In response, Cas twisted Dean's nipple just so, and Dean jackknifed, burying himself inside Cas and spilling deep, the sudden buzzing in his ears almost blocking the delightful sounds of Cas's orgasm manifesting in a long delicious groan, the sound of which made Dean's cock twitch a few last times. Obviously they were both into each other's kinks.

Cas lifted himself up from laying bonelessly on Dean once Dean’s cock slipped out of him, laying on his back beside Dean, a hand coming to rest on Dean's stomach while they were catching their breaths.

There was the cleaning up, obviously, but not a single force in this world could deny them a few minutes of being there, especially when Cas snaked his arm under Dean's head and kissed him almost chastely.

In those minutes, Dean made a decision. It might take some doing, but it was possible if they both worked for it together, and if their mutual, recent past had taught them anything, it was that they were good at just that.

He wanted to share a house with Cas. Permanently. No more driving back and forth and begging and pleading for time off work to see each other. Just a place that they both called home. Where they cooked breakfast every day and planned hiking and hunting and foraging trips. Where they crawled into bed together. Even just to sleep sometimes.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Cas beat him to it; “This place is too small for two, don't you think?”

Dean's enthusiastic answer was to kiss a willing, smiley Cas breathless.