always_enduphere | (no subject)

(no subject)

Dean feels unaccountably nervous when he walks the few feet to Castiel's door. He's been home a week now, and for the first time, finally feels past the need to sleep all day long. It'd been nice to do nothing but lie there and watch every season of Dr. Sexy from his bed, but Dean's sick of his plain white walls, sick of his sickbed. Sick of endless bowls of soup, too, however hilarious it is to make Cas do airplane over and over. Dean wants to see the sky, wants to eat a real meal again, and he wants to maybe make a few things right between them as he does it.

He shifts from foot to foot outside Castiel's door. His belt is set to a slot it hasn't seen in years, and Dean knows it only makes him look skinnier, but he tucks in his shirt, smoothing his hair for the third time since he combed it over. "Well," he says, "M'not getting any prettier," and knocks.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"God, we - " Dean laughs again, blanching when their steaks appear suddenly in front of them. If he were a more refined man, he might question the speed, but he's not, and he's hungry.

"Let's take that as we come to it, huh?" says Dean, leaning over his food to breath it in. He picks up his fork, then frowns, loosing it to pick up his knife instead, but the steak doesn't want to hold still for him to cut it. "Goddamn cast."

Castiel nods and busies himself by neatly and deftly cutting into his steak, lifting the first bite to his mouth and pausing when he sees Dean's struggle.

"Dean," he says quietly, setting down his cutlery. "Perhaps I could resume altered nursemaid duty, just for a moment. You would be doing me a favor. I like feeling useful."

Dean scowls, but he can't deny that he can't do it anymore than he can deny that he's fucking hungry, and slides his plate towards Castiel with a half smile.

"Should've ordered steak tips," he says, helping himself to a forkful of baked potato in the meantime.

"I think the steak was the correct choice, regardless," he says, offering his own smile before cutting Dean's steak into manageable bites. He pushes the plate back, eyes lingering on Dean's face for a moment longer before settling down to his own meal.

Steak was, indeed, a very good choice.

They eat everything set before them, Castiel through honest hunger, and Dean through pure stubbornness. He's full from the fifth forkful in, but he's buying this, and that means he's enjoying it, not least because he wants Castiel to enjoy it, too.

He's nearly alseep by the time he's behind the wheel again, but that's hardly unusual for Dean, and he gets them home without incident, even managing to open Castiel's door before leaning hard against the side of the Impala.

"Here we are," says Dean, showing him a tired smile. "Not a bad night, right?"

"This was a wonderful night," he answers, looking fondly at Dean's exhausted face and understanding that tonight will not be the night for the lubrication still riding along in his pocket.

"Perhaps you would consider reserving next Friday evening for me to take you somewhere. Until then, can I walk you to your door?"

It's the last thing Dean wants - or at least, the last thing Dean nervously planned for - but it's the thing that seems the most feasible when he's half asleep, staring down Castiel's hopeful gaze.

"Yeah," he says, hooking his elbow through Castiel's, "Yeah, that sounds good." He walks up the steps to the door. "What day is it again?"

"Today is Sunday," Castiel murmurs, leaning lightly against Dean's door frame.

"Therefore, I will come and get you in five days. Perhaps, if you eat more between now and then, you'll remain conscious later than eight in the evening and I..." he says, threading his fingers through Dean's good hand, "will endeavor to make it worth your while."

"Sounds so dirty when you say it," says Dean, warming to the roots of his hair, but he's laughing when he falls against his door, good hand fumbling for the key. He has a moment to think, fuck it, then turns himself against the frame, slumped but chin raised towards Castiel. "C'mere."

Castiel leans in immediately, gaze falling to the lush swell of Dean's mouth. He raises a hand to cup Dean's jaw, thumb catching on his lower lip as he leans in, determined to get his kiss goodnight.

Dean's skin tingles as it had before, and it's not like he's never been touched, but always with haste, never like this. Never like he's something precious, and it should probably feel emasculating, but mostly it just feels good. His lips part in surprise, and then Castiel's are there to meet them, warm and dry and just a little bit chapped, and Dean's heart sings in his chest.

"Cas," he breathes against his mouth, pulse pounding for just the simple act of deepening the kiss. He reaches with his free hand, fingers tightening in Castiel's shirt to pull him close.

Castiel groans softly against Dean's mouth, startled as always by having sensations and noises simply pulled from him. Never before has his body echoed so perfectly what his heart has felt and he finds himself relishing that loss of control.

"I should go," he murmurs, even as a hand slides up Dean's warm side. "But next time, I would like to come inside with you. I would like more of this, with you."

Castiel's desire is as earnest as the rest of him, simple pleasure so plainly offered that has Dean's blood racing southward. It makes his head spin, but Castiel's hand is firm against his side, strong enough to hold him even if he falls, and somehow that's enough to keep Dean's feet beneath him.

Exhaustion is on him like a living thing, settled on his shoulders and bearing down, and Dean doesn't want to give in to it, but soon the choice will be removed from him. "Yeah," he says, and can't help the way his body shifts, seeking pressure from Castiel's. The thought is overwhelming, but there's no denying that Dean wants it, every part of him. "Next time."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only