Archive of Our Own

It has been a decade in Heaven or centuries on Earth—however one would like to put it. Being here in Heaven has been great; he gets to be with everyone they have lost, eat as much pie and burgers as he wants, and drive Baby across infinite land. Though, there is one thing that is missing… Heaven is supposed to be where one is meant to have everlasting peace, but he does not.

Castiel. He is missing Castiel. His one missing piece. The most important one of all.

Bobby said that Jack pulled Cas out of the Empty, and they are rebuilding Heaven together, father and son. Dean can understand why he might not appear right away (he expects Cas to have his wings back, fully repaired and badass), but it has been too long. After God knows how many prayers he knows Jack has heard, he still has not answered him. He is beginning to doubt Jack ever saved him after all. Cas would have come by now. He always comes when Dean calls. They share a more 'profound bond' after all.

Dean thinks about his confession right before he was taken. Frequently.

I love you.

Shit, he should have said something—anything. But he didn't. He didn't know how to respond; he could barely even move.

He was frozen.

Cas loves him. Why didn't he say it back? Shit, why didn't he say it back?

After all this time, he has never spoken to Cas about it. What he really meant by his words. Why the hell he left him when they could have found another way. They always find another way.

Dumbass. Feather brain.

And why did he not tell them about that stupid fucking deal sooner? He knows better than to do shit like that. And now he's gone. Only Jack knows if he's even alive. Maybe he lied in an attempt to ease Dean's worry, or Sam's, or both.

And Dean cusses him out.

Not the best thing to do, especially to a… fourteen-year-old? Something like that. Not that he would care, anyway.

He demands to see Cas and speak to him. He even cussed Cas out once, which he regretted immediately, as there would likely be less of a chance of him showing up, he had realized. And now he feels like a piece of shit, yet he's still praying helplessly, backed into a corner by his own emotions.

After everything they have been through together, the least he can do is show up.

All he does now is cry in one of the rooms of Bobby's house, secluding himself. Sometimes, he cries himself to sleep, and other times, he can't, ending up wallowing in his own self-loathing and guilt. He prays desperately during those times. If only Cas knew how he truly feels, maybe he would come when he calls. If Cas did happen to show up, he wouldn't even fucking care how embarrassing it would be, which he would definitely feel later on, but who gives a fuck. He's been in anguish, so exceptions can be made.

Maybe he doesn't want to see him. He doesn't know why that would be the case, but anything is possible. If so, he wants to know what he did wrong—what he did to make him stay away. He must be really fucked up.

Well, it's not totally off.

He can only hope that one day, Cas will come.

He pulls up to a bridge with a lovely arch over a stream he had found one day while out on a walk near Bobby's. It is nice and quiet. Peaceful. If only it were for him.

He gets out of the impala and closes the door behind him. Don't get him wrong, he enjoys driving around in Baby, but he should have taken a walk; the extra time alone would have been nice. Besides, he would actually be doing something with his time, changing things up for once.

He stops at the top of the arch, leaning on the wood railing. He stares out at the water, flowing gently and elegantly down the stream. Everything here seems more… harmonious. Amicable. It makes him feel uneasy. Like he would deserve such a thing. He should be in Hell right now. That would probably be better. For him, anyways. Maybe Cas would even save him again. That's only a dream, though. He wishes otherwise.

He closes his eyes and puts his hands together. It feels stupid doing this, as it is unnecessary at this point, as all of his prayers never get answered, and the hard truth is that he will not show up. Neither Cas nor Jack. They never do. So he's always left in the dark. Helpless. Always on unrest. His current default. Probably forever. May as well be.

He feels abandoned, like a lost puppy, never knowing if his family will ever return to him. How pathetic. He has his family. He has nearly everything he could ever want—everything he could ever ask for. But Cas.

Not surprising. He's been weak since he got here. Not much to do now that killing monsters is out of the picture for good. That's all he's really ever known. He has become accustomed to it. But now that has been taken from him. If Jack calls that peace, then he's very fucking wrong. It is understandable for most hunters to enjoy this afterlife, but he enjoys quite the contrary: killing monsters and demons, the ones who need to be put down for causing chaos and shedding blood all over the world.

Dean likes their blood on his hands.

And how fucked up he is for it.

He deserves whatever pain it would cause him to be hunting again. He kind of likes the pain. At least he would feel something—something different from what he has been feeling. The distraction would be a nice change.

He listens to the sounds of the birds chirping and the deer passing by, which are easy to hear here, probably so people can go up to them and pet them or some shit because they are not scared of humans here. Not surprising, either. He focuses on the intent of the message he wants to convey. This seems pointless, but it's worth a shot. It always is, it seems.

"Cas." He pauses and waits. Nothing. "Hey, Cas, It's me again, though it's kind of pointless at this point. Will you ever come back? Fuck, this is so pathetic." Reduced to begging. He internally punches himself in the face. Hard. "Please, just… come back." I need you. "I want to see you." He opens his eyes and turns around but sees nothing. "Just give me a sign. Anything, just please."

Tears fill his eyes. He really is pathetic.

He slides down the wood rails, sitting on the ground. He tucks his legs against his chest and covers his face with his hands. He doesn't want to be seen, not by anyone but Cas or Jack, to get some fucking answers, but, you know, that won't happen. It never does.

His tears spill over and stream down his cheeks, and he doesn't hold back. He needs the release.

He sits there and cries for who fucking knows how long, wishing he would just fade into nothing. Disappear forever. Maybe he wouldn't feel this way any longer. His suffering would end. Somehow, the effect this has on him is larger than life.

He sobs, and though he is all alone, it is still mortifying.

Please.

He hears a flap. Then looks up.

Cas.

Their gazes lock. "Hello, Dean." His heart skips a beat and races at a million miles per hour.

That voice. That deep, familiar rumble he has missed for too long.

He can't move. Is his subconscious fucking with him, or is this really real?

"C-Cas?" His throat is raspy, mouth dry. He is frozen.

Don't go.

Cas takes the few remaining steps towards him and crouches down in his space. Personal space rule be damned—he needs him closer.

Cas looks concerned, with his signature head tilt and expression that he wants to wipe right off his stupidly gorgeous face. Then, he realizes that he probably looks like a wreck, tears streaming down his face.

"Dean?"

He smiles shakily, tears still streaming down his face. Tears of happiness feel nice. So fucking nice.

Finally.

"Why?" He asks, his own voice holding so much emotion that it scares him.

Cas' expression turns doleful. "I…" He looks away. "You don't need me now that you're in Heaven. All of the fighting is done. I am no longer of any use to you. You are at rest now."

"Fuck, do you really think that, Cas? You weren't just on team good guys because of your angel mojo, but because you're our friend. Our family. Don't you ever think otherwise. We wanted you there."

Cas' eyes widen a fraction, but he schools his features in an instant. "It's not just that. I did not think you wanted to… talk about what had happened. I did not know how you would take it. I did not want to force that upon you. I know it can be difficult for you."

"Hell, Cas, you made it so much more difficult by not being here. Let me face it, angel." He is still crying. "Shit, I'm so fucking pathetic."

Cas looks back at him, expression turning stern. "No, you're not." His gaze flickers from one eye to the other, like he is searching for something. Whatever it is he finds there, his features soften. "Dean, I did not know how much my being gone has affected you. You're prayers… I could feel your longing, your despair, and I wanted to come, but… I thought you would get over me. Forget. No longer care. But that does not seem to be the case."

"How could you even think that? Of course I care. I would never forget. How the hell could I? After all we've been through together." He can not have Cas thinking any of that. He needs to make that clear to him. "No matter how sappy this sounds, I need you, Cas. Fuck, after what you said… I wish I had said something. I should have said something."

"You don't need to say anything, Dean."

"Yes, I do," Dean says, accusatory. He hesitates. He hesitates. After a decade of waiting to say this, he fucking hesitates. He's nervous. Cas hasn't been here, and now that he is… the reality of how hard this will be kicks in. It is like a punch to the gut.

He freezes, and his throat closes up. "You can tell me if you truly wish, but I will not force you."

He holds Cas' gaze, his tears coming in waves. He can't hold back any longer.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, and I fucking regret not doing so, but… I love you, too, Cas." He sniffles as a tear falls. "I love you so fucking much. Please stay. Please." Cas is the one who's frozen now. The longer he stays silent, the more Dean starts to worry. “Come on, say something, you can't just-"

"Do you really mean that, or are you only saying that to get me to stay?" he finally says, cutting Dean off mid-sentence.

Dean can only gape. "How the hell could you even doubt that, Cas? Of course I love you." The words feel odd on his tongue, spoken very few times in all of his screwed-up life and afterlife, but he keeps going. "I wouldn't lie to you about this. That would just be plain messed up. Trust me, you belong with us, and I can't-" he sobs, "I can't stand to be without you. Not now. After all these years. I've felt this way for a long time; it just took me so long to realize it and accept these feelings. They're real, Cas. They've always been." Cas' eyes soften. "Never leave me again."

Dean reaches out and pulls him forward, leaning into Cas and embracing him. Cas moves onto his knees, as well as Dean, sitting on his calves, embracing Dean back without hesitation. His grip on Cas is firm, with his hold tight. He doesn't want to let go—he never does. He never gets to have this closeness—not with anyone, especially with Cas, but now that he can, he never wants to let go. Forever close to the angel he loves. His angel.

Their chests are pressed flush together, and Dean is sobbing over his shoulder. He doesn't care how embarrassing it is. He needed this; he has needed it for a long time.

He hugs Cas tighter to himself, and Cas comforts him—eases him, whispering words of reassurance into his ear—along with the smell of rainwater and petrichor that always seems to cling to him, a welcome aroma.

When he hears a sniffle, feeling slight rhythmic movements against his chest, he pulls away enough to look into Cas' incredibly blue eyes, so close, hardly apart from each other. Tears trickle down his cheeks and fall from his chin, landing onto that familiar coat of his.

Dean's eyes go wide. "Cas?"

Cas smiles, tears still streaming down his face. "You never fail to surprise me, Dean Winchester. You have made me feel things I have never felt before, and you continue to." He sniffles and huffs a laugh. "I love you. That will never change. You must know that."

Dean smiles, really smiles. This is the first time he's been happy since… God, he doesn't even know how long it's been. Too damn long, that's for sure.

Dean leans in and sobs into the crook of Cas' neck, his tears seeping into the fabric of that lovable coat until he can't any longer, his eyes dry. Cas coaxes him through his tears, holding him, strong yet gentle arms wrapped around him securely and protectively. He doesn't know how their relationship will change now that their feelings are out, and honestly, Dean is scared—nervous—but also thrilled and eager to find out.

"I will stay, Dean. I am sorry I did not come sooner." He pulls away from their embrace, and Dean mourns the loss. "I have something to show you. It is my favorite place in Heaven. I created it myself."

Dean perks up at that. "Huh? What is it?"

"You will see. Would you like me to take you there?" Cas asks softly. His heart does flip flops and whatever else that makes his chest feel like it's expanding.

"Yes." I would go anywhere with you.

Cas stands and offers Dean his hand. He knows he doesn't need it, but it's a kind gesture, even sweet. Though he does have to admit, he probably looks like he got hit by an eighteen-wheeler, what with how weak he feels. His wounds, having been open for the longest time, are just now starting to heal under the touch of Cas' hand.

Dean takes it, and Cas helps him up. His hand is warm and feels nice, held within his own, slotting together perfectly, like they are meant to be together. His legs are a bit shaky because, holy shit, Cas is here, but he balances himself well enough, and Cas smiles at him all soft and sweet, and Dean's heart beats faster. He has never been so deeply in love with someone, so these feelings are intense, all-encompassing—they go bone-deep, all the way down to his very core. He loves him. There is no doubt about it.

His hold on Cas' hand lingers until Cas speaks up. "It is quite far; would you prefer driving your car or I flying us there?"

"Flying sounds awesome." Cas has flown Dean from place to place before, and it is pretty frickin' awesome, and he knows Cas likes the freedom of flying better than a cramped vehicle; he said it himself a long time ago, though he probably got used to it. Even still, Dean wants him to feel free. They are now, after all.

Cas' smile widens. Knew it. He places his hand on Dean's shoulder, and suddenly, he feels wind rushing against his skin and sees nothing but bright white light. In only a matter of seconds, his vision clears, and he is met with the sight of a field. It is permeated with flowers, the grass so green in the sun's light and warmth. Dean wants to feel it on his skin.

Dean looks beside him at Cas, and he is smiling like a little kid getting candy on Halloween. "Do you approve?"

Dean looks back to the bright green grass, highlighting the flowers in all their glory. The sunlight shining down upon the already beautiful field full of color makes it even better. It is a sight to behold. "You really made all this?"

"Yes. It took a while, but I found the sight quite nice, and even though this is a place of the afterlife, they are still living."

Dean huffs a laugh. Of course they are. It is pretty incredible. "You did amazing. I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything." Cas' smile softens.

Dean's smile widens, and he gets an idea. He has heard about frolicking in a field of flowers before, but like hell he'll ever frolic, but he will make Cas chase after him. He is curious about how that will turn out. He can outrun nearly every monster he's faced, but an angel? He would like to see that.

His smile shows teeth, and Cas cocks his head to the side in that very Cas way of his. Then, in the next second, he takes off, leaving Cas to chase after him. "Come and get me, feathers! Or do you not want me?" he smirks.

He looks back briefly, and Cas smirks as well, then takes off after him. He looks ahead once again, and oh, how nice it feels to just run in a field of flowers. Breathing in the fresh air and taking in the sun's beams is incredible. He finally lets the sun shine on his face.

He checks behind him, and Cas is only a bit closer, and he swears he's letting him keep the lead; he could probably catch Dean in half a millisecond if he wanted to. He realizes just how freeing this feels, and Cas must, too.

Then he begins to run out of breath and realizes Cas probably doesn't even need to breathe. It's not like he'll die if he passes out or some shit because of it; he would just get back up and be fine, but it would be very awkward. Even so, he keeps going for as long as possible before his muscles will eventually give out.

He looks back again, and Cas is much closer. He tries to pick up his pace, but when he looks ahead again, Cas is only a few feet away from him. "Oh shit!" He tries to slow down and skids on the grass but ends up ramming into Cas.

Thankfully, Cas is strong and stable because he catches Dean, neither of them falling to the ground. Cas' hands are gripping both of his forearms, and he realizes just how close they are now.

"Caught you," Cas smirks. Smug bastard.

"No, that doesn't count! You cheated!"

"I would have won either way, Dean. You were running out of breath."

"Yeah, but I could have kept going," he huffs, still catching his breath. "But seriously, no cheating next time."

"Next time?" Cas has a hopeful smile on his beautiful face, making Dean's heart swell and expand in his throat.

"Yes, next time. There will always be a next time. Don't you ever doubt that, either." His firm grip on Dean loosens, and his smile softens. They are so close right now. Cas is looking at him like he's something worth worshiping, which he totally is not, at least he thinks. Cas thinks otherwise, though, not just because he loves him but because of what he said back on Earth over a decade ago, at least in Heaven time. It's because of why he loves him. He still has to have a talk with him about that. It fucking broke him.

His muscles relax, and he feels warm all over, staring into Cas' ocean blue eyes, pulling him in. Their eyes are locked in an intense stare, and somehow, it is not awkward; it is more longing than anything.

Cas moves his hands from Dean's forearms to come to rest gently on his waist, and Dean places his palms below his collarbone, one right above his heart. He can feel Cas' soft, short breaths from this proximity, and his pupils, he notices, are dilated.

The look Cas has perfectly reflects how he's feeling. To him, he must look like a wreck, but he knows Cas would say he looks beautiful or something, which makes his face feel warmer.

Is this really happening?

His heart races, and they lean closer into each other's space. "Cas—I've never-"

"It's okay, Dean. I know. We don't have to, if you would prefer," Cas says softly, as calm as can be—reassuring. He sounds so composed, but Dean knows better; he has confirmation of that fact by the living, racing heartbeat beneath his palm. He is so kind and considerate and a fucking angel. He doesn't deserve him, but he feels truly blessed to have him.

"No, Cas. I want to. I-" He pauses, his mind going blank. He flicks his gaze to Cas' lips, then back up again. He leans in further, their lips almost touching. "I need you," he whispers hotly against them.

"Dean." He leans in the rest of the way, and their lips connect for the first time. It is just a soft touch, but it causes lightning to shoot through his body at the contact.

Cas is kissing him.

When they pull apart, he immediately misses the contact, and it looks like Cas feels the same, so they lean back in, and it is better angled this time. The first few are more figuring things out and experimental than anything else, but when they get it, it is like Dean's favorite drug; he can't get enough of the feel of Cas' lips pressed against his own and the taste of him like sunshine.

Dean wraps his arms around the back of Cas' neck, and Cas' arms wrap around Dean's middle, pulling him in closer. Dean deepens the kiss, their lips locking together so perfectly, wanting more. Wanting more should be a sin when he already has so much, but he wants.

Cas returns the kiss, more desperate than anything else, but Dean can feel the love put into all of it. He thinks he's just as desperate. He is so goddamn touch deprived, and he's wanted to do this for years, though it took him so long to realize and truly accept it. These feelings kept growing, and truthfully, he had tried to push them away, but he is thrilled he failed. That sounds like a fuck up in and of itself to fail, but really, this is a win, for both of them.

Cas. His angel. They're in love with each other, and Dean is the happiest he's ever been.

He can feel himself growing hard, the beginnings of an erection pushing uncomfortably against his jeans. He never thought he would be the kind of man to get hard because of another man, but here he is. This is different; this is Cas, the love of his life. Afterlife? Besides the point. He loves him.

He does not know if Cas wants this. This is all moving so fast, but he is just so goddamn intoxicating, and Dean has been waiting for what feels like an eternity to be with him; held within his arms, have his soft lips pressed against his own, to have him in-

The thought is so abrupt and unexpected that it scares Dean. It scares him how much he actually wants it. He's never slept with a man before and especially never taken one up the ass. He should listen to his heart, no matter how fucking cheesy that sounds. It is about sharing something profound and personal with someone you love and having that with Cas is something he wants. He craves his love, his touch, his words, his kindness. He knows he is being greedy, but just this once, at least, he would like to have it all. He finally has the chance to be with his love—to be held by him, kissed by him, praised by him. Shit, he wants him so damn much.

He pulls back, his face still close to Cas', their heavy breaths mingling together. He stares into Cas' eyes, pupils dilated, only leaving thin blue rings in their wake. There is love and longing there, and he wonders if Cas wants the same thing as he does. His eyes keep their hold on Cas' as he slowly grinds his hips forward into Cas', and oh, he can feel the outline of an erection against his own. Cas is turned on by him. Not even going to lie, he feels pretty damn accomplished.

Cas' grip tightens on Dean's waist, and Dean does it again. A sound that he would never admit to doing comes from low in his throat, unlike Cas, who is composed and doing a pretty damn good job at it. He is holding back, though, and Dean does not like that. Cas does not have to be his usual composed self; all the fighting is done. It is not just Dean at rest; they both are.

He wants Cas to be open with him, even more open than the average teenage sleepover where you reveal your deepest darkest secrets when, in reality, it is nothing compared to the world when your life has just begun. He wants to really see Cas; he wants to see him let himself go and put down that shield he always has up. He is an angel, but that doesn't mean he always has to be ready for battle, keeping that composure, even in the slightest. He wants him to open up completely. But that means it would only be fair that Dean does, too. Being so open with someone is something he's never really been good at, but maybe for Cas, he can be.

Dean moves one hand to Cas' face, gently caressing his cheek. He stares deeply into his eyes, feeling so many things at once that it is nearly overwhelming. "Cas, I want—" He swallows. He knows what he wants but has never had the courage to voice his wants aloud before. But being open with each other is a two-way street, so here goes. "I want you."

"Oh, Dean," Cas says softly, lovingly, held with much more emotion than any other angel he knows. Cas is unique. He's got the best angel. He's glad it was Cas who rescued him from Hell. If it weren't him who saved him, he might have ended up losing his way. But, when they found each other, they found their way, truly.

Cas rests his forehead lightly against Dean's, closing his eyes. Dean mimics him, giving in to the nearly overwhelming, encompassing feelings being brought to the surface. "I want you, too."

Dean can't help the smile that comes to his face at Cas' words. He wants him. He wants him.

"Then show me," he whispers hotly against Cas' lips. At that, Cas surges forward and crashes their lips together, fierce and full of passion and very damn needy. Dean kisses back, greedy for the taste and feel of Cas. He takes Cas' bottom lip between his teeth and bites down lightly, causing a low rumble to escape from his throat.

Cas grips the fabric of Dean's flannel and pulls, buttons flying into the grass as both sides are separated. Dean gasps, releasing Cas' lip. He shrugs his shoulders, letting the offending garment fall to the ground. He then reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, exposing his whole top half, the fabric landing next to his flannel.

Cas looks him over like he is some sort of ancient relic—something to be cherished and treated with care. He feels his chest and face becoming warmer. When Cas meets his eyes, they are dilated beyond belief, and he is looking at him in a way Dean doesn't feel like he deserves to be looked at—like he is on some great pedestal. He isn't all that special. But he isn't the one who gets to make those decisions, as it turns out.

"You are beautiful, Dean. Truly," Cas says in the softest, sweetest voice, and oh God, what is the temperature out here? He knows he is good-looking, but beautiful? Cas says the sappiest stuff, and he loves him for it.

He moves in closer, their faces only inches apart. "And you have me." He leans in and kisses Cas long and slow, and when he pulls away, Cas looks awed.

Cas then smiles his gentle smile, his eyes full of love. "As I, too, am yours." He moves his hands from Dean's waist to grab his ass and pull him forward, grinding their clothed cocks together, making sweet friction. Dean can't help the small moan that escapes him at feeling Cas' arousal so prominently pressing against his own.

Cas' gaze is unwavering from Dean's. He looks so different from the Cas he knows; his stoic persona has dropped entirely and has been replaced with pure, undiluted lust and want. His eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, consuming his irises. His lips are slightly parted, and his face flushed. He looks like the definition of sin.

Dean places his hands on Cas' chest and slowly moves his touch up and under the collar of his coat, then his shoulders, and begins to push the fabric away. Cas helps him get it off, and he tosses it off to the side somewhere. He looks different without the coat, being that he is in it constantly. He has only seen him without it a handful of times out of all the years they have known each other.

He removes his suit jacket and insists on unbuttoning his dress shirt, and Dean wonders how he can wear all of that for so long. All that's left covered now is his bottom half, the rest of him bare and exposed to Dean's wandering eyes. And he knows he is getting red, his blood becoming hotter as he stares at Cas' chest, nicely defined abs, all of the muscles and veins in his arms he has been hiding from the world for too damn long, and just… Cas.

He is beautiful.

His sappiness is rubbing off on him. With Cas, he can be all sappy and heartfelt because this is Cas, his love, his happiness, his lifeline. God, how much he loves him. He could never tell him enough how much he loves him; no matter how many times he says it, it will never be enough.

Dean gently places a hand on the small of Cas' back, the skin smooth and warm, and pulls him forward, heated skin touching heated skin. He presses his lips to Cas', the soft touch perfection.

He is insatiable; he can not get enough of him. He needs to be closer.

He wraps his arms around him, pulling him even closer so their chests are nearly touching, their hardened cocks pressing together through the much-unwanted fabric, and he runs his tongue along Cas' bottom lip, begging for entrance. Cas opens up, and Dean enters, their tongues moving together in a sweet slide. The closer they get, the more intensely he feels, and being with Cas like this is one of his favorite things to feel. If not just the intensity, the deepness of how far this feeling goes. He really feels, and for once, it is not pain. This is his peace. Finally.

Cas pushes lightly at his shoulders, indicating for him to lie down. He complies, and Cas follows along with him, always remaining close and never separating. He lies back on the grass with Cas on top of him, looking down at him with eyes full of adoration and undiluted want.

Dean wants to touch him, wants to be touched by him—his angel—and it is overwhelming truly how much. He moves a hand to the back of Cas' head, threading his fingers through his soft hair, and grips, pulling him in. Their lips return to each other, and their tongues again join the action. Dean moans into it, unashamed. It is just too damn good not to. He wants this release after years of pent-up emotion toward this divine being. He needs it, so fucking bad.

The sun radiates warm, golden light, shining down upon them and this astonishingly beautiful field of flowers of Cas' own creation. He suspects no one will be out here anytime soon, and Cas would let him know if that is not the case, as this is a particularly private moment between two beings sharing such a profound act.

He releases Cas' hair from his grip and lets his hand fall to his side, then Cas pulls away, leaving a strand of saliva between them, which is oddly hot. He trails kisses from Dean's lips, below his eye, his cheek, his jaw, and finally, his neck. He nuzzles into the crook of his neck, which feels nice and makes Dean's heart flutter before Cas takes a sliver of skin into his mouth and sucks. Dean is wondering how he knows how to do that, but then he figures it is probably because he has been watching human activity for millennia.

Dean tilts his head to the side, allowing Cas more room to work with. He wants to be marked by him so everyone knows that he's his. He is Cas' and Cas is his, and he wouldn't like it any other way.

When he pulls away, he looks at where his mouth was working and smiles. He runs his touch lightly along where he marked Dean, savoring the sight. "Again," Dean says, wanting more. Cas leans back down and licks a different spot before taking the skin into his mouth, and Dean makes a noise low in his throat. When he is done, he soothes the slight sting of it with his tongue. He repeats the process several times, adding two on the other side.

He licks a trail from the crook of his neck to behind his ear, sending shivers down Dean's spine—he seems to know what Dean likes and what turns him on, probably because he knows him better than anyone else, down to a molecular level, which is pretty bizarre to think about. He understands him; he has gone through his mind and rebuilt his body from scratch, knowing every inch of him from memory. He feels he should be embarrassed or somewhat weirded out, but he's not. He wants Cas to see him and know him down to the deepest, darkest crevices of his soul; he saved him for crying out loud—in more ways than one.

"What do you want, Dean?" Cas asks, his breath hot against his ear. He pulls back slightly and stares Dean dead in the eyes like he is staring into his very soul, which he probably is.

"I… I want you. I want you, Cas." Cas smiles, his face just a tad bit redder. He leans down and kisses Dean briefly, then grinds down against him. Dean practically whimpers, his aching, neglected cock pushing painfully against his jeans. "Please." Now he is reduced to begging.

Cas looks at him reassuringly and caresses his jaw in a gentle touch. His touch moves from his jaw to his neck, his chest, stopping briefly over his heart, fingers brushing over one of his nipples, which causes Dean to tense briefly. His touch then moves over his sternum, sliding down to stop over his abs. They are not as defined as Cas', but they are still pretty damn prominent. Cas runs the tips of his fingers, featherlight, over the lines, and it sort of tickles, but all he does is smile and bask in the feel of Cas' soft and caring touch. He is happy—so incredibly happy; not even words could possibly describe.

Cas splays his hand out over the expanse of muscle and pushes down, not hard, but enough for them to tense. Dean raises his head and looks at him, and he is smiling up at him. "What?"

"You are perfect, Dean," he says gently.

Dean scoffs. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm serious. You really are, in every way." Dean doesn't know what to say to that. Cas moves his hand down further, over his navel, to come to rest right above the waist of his jeans. "May I?"

Dean nods, feeling nervous, which Cas can probably tell, given how he can read him like the back of his hand. "I will go slow," he reassures, which Dean is thankful for. Cas is so kind and considerate, and he loves him for it, like many other things. Everything about him is perfect.

Dean holds his weight back on his forearms as he watches Cas. He stays true to his word: every movement is slow, as his fingers work the button undone, then down the zipper of his fly. Dean lifts his hips as Cas pulls down his jeans, removing the remainder of his clothing, all but his boxers. Cas looks up to meet his eyes, ensuring he is comfortable. He seems to see something he likes because a small smile comes to his lips. He reaches for his boxers. "Is this okay?"

"Isn't this what we're doing? We've gotten this far, sunshine; why stop now?" Dean chuckles. It's odd how he can laugh, as he should totally be freaking out right now that this is happening after all these years, but he can't help it.

"Yes, I suppose so." He smiles fondly up at him and slowly, carefully pulls down his boxers until they are at his ankles, and Dean kicks them away. He is completely naked, and knowing that Cas has seen him like this before makes him feel not as awkward as he would without that fact. Of course, it was different back then, but just knowing that he loves every part of him, he should not be nervous or afraid. He knows that.

Cas stares at his erect cock, standing proud and waiting. He just keeps staring, and then things do start to become a bit awkward. "Uh, Cas?"

Cas looks up at him and smiles. "I remade every part of you, including your genitals, and I made it perfect, the same as it was before you were sent to Hell. I rebuilt every part of you with care, ensuring everything was just the way it should be. I have seen every part of you, from the physical to the internal, and the most profound, the spiritual."

Dean's face becomes heated, and he covers his eyes with an arm thrown over them, wanting to hide his embarrassment.

"Do not hide from me, Dean. There is no need to be abashed nor flustered." He swears he can feel his face becoming warmer by the moment. "You are astonishing. You are unlike any soul I have ever seen. You are unique and so very beautiful. Never think otherwise."

Dean uncovers his eyes and looks at Cas again. He is staring up at him lovingly, making Dean's heart thrum beneath his chest. Cas reaches for Dean's cock, still staring him in the eyes as he wraps his fingers around the base. Dean holds back a moan at the sensation of Cas holding him in his warm, perfect hand.

Cas seems to like what he sees because he begins to pump his fist along his length in long, slow strokes. Precum is already beading at the tip of his cock, and Cas rubs his thumb over it, spreading it down his length. Dean can't help the small moans that escape him. He is attempting to hold them back, but this is just too damn good already. Cas is like a professional at this, with the way his wrist twists just the right way on the upstroke and sensually down. He rubs his thumb over the tip flawlessly, making it even better. It is not just the unexpected skill his movements hold but just the fact that it is Cas doing this to him.

Dean watches Cas' hand on every stroke, and he is captivated. Cas tightens his fist and begins stroking him even faster. Dean can't help the moan that escapes him as he works his fist with great skill. He is keeping eye contact, and Dean has to look away.

"Dean." Dean closes his eyes. "Dean," he says again, "Please look at me." Dean, hesitant, looks back to Cas. "I want you to watch me."

Dean resists the urge to look away and watches, Cas' hand stilling at the base as he leans forward and flicks his tongue out, lapping up the bead of precum at the tip. Okay, Dean was not expecting that. He releases him and licks from base to tip. Dean whimpers. "Shit, Cas, how do you-" His words get cut off and dissolve into a moan as all other thoughts escape him as Cas takes him into his mouth. His lips wrap around the tip, and his tongue continues lapping at it. The next thing he knows, his tongue is flattening against the underside of his shaft as he goes down on him, his cock being encased within the delicious heat of Cas' mouth, taking in his full length.

He fists the grass at his sides, needing something to hold onto. His breathing is quick and heavy as Cas stays there, staring up at him, unmoving. He knows his airways are being blocked, but Dean figures he doesn't have to breathe. He probably looks like an utter fucking mess right now, being slowly taken apart by everything Cas is doing to him.

He begins moving, slowly at first, then bobbing his head faster around the length of his cock, and he feels the tip hit the back of his throat every time he goes down. Dean thrusts up, unable to control his movements, and Cas pushes his hips down hard, which Dean likes more than he probably should. It is so good and how does Cas know how to do all of this?! Of course, he has been watching humans and their everyday lives for millennia, but doing it is entirely different than seeing it. He doesn't know, but he is grateful for this unexpected skill. Even if he were shit at it, Dean knows he would still love it because this is Cas with Dean's cock in his mouth, pleasuring him when he didn't even ask for this. Cas is really something special. He feels impossibly lucky to have him here with him—loving him.

He wants to give back to Cas and has an idea of what to do. He's nervous, but this way, they would be the closest they have ever been. He wants to be as close as physically possible to him, and Cas does, as well. He knows that. He wants this. The idea is new to him; he has never done such a thing before, but he wants this more than he ever thought possible.

He stares Cas in his ocean blue eyes as he works his mouth around his cock, his pleasure building and his end approaching. "Cas." he moans, "Cas, please, I need you to stop."

Cas pulls off of him with an absurd popping noise and looks at him, concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? Hell no. That was freaking incredible, but… I want…" It is hard to get out—so fucking hard, but he needs to.

"Do you mean…"

"I want you inside me, Cas," he nearly chokes out.

There is a brief moment of shock, but his expression soon turns soft. "Are you sure? That is… a big decision."

"Yes, I'm sure. I am so fucking sure, Cas, that it scares me how sure I am, but I want it. I want you."

Cas' expression turns soft, and he crawls back over Dean. "I want you, too." He leans down and meets him for a gentle kiss, his lips perfect against his own.

He pulls back and caresses Dean's cheek. Dean stares up at him in adoration. He loves him so goddamn much.

"I, uh… don't have any lube."

"How do you put it, Dean? I can use my 'mojo'," he says, using actual finger quotes.

Dean chuckles. He can't help it; it is just so Cas. "Exactly." He's smiling up at him, and Cas perfectly reflects his happiness.

He now just realizes that the remainder of Cas' clothes is gone as his cock brushes against his own. Dean's eyes widen, and he shivers at the abrupt spark of pleasure in his groin. "Wait, you could have just done that? Why not sooner?"

"Because I wanted to go slow. You would be more comfortable that way." That is so what he would say. "I want to ask you again: are you sure you want this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, Cas. We just went from first base to second base to third base literally in less than an hour; I'm pretty sure we're already ahead. There's no stopping now, angel." His smile shows teeth; so big and bright… happy. It is such a simple word, but it speaks volumes to him. Happiness is in just being and just saying it, but right now, and from now on, it will be in the having, as well.

Dean looks down between them and takes a glimpse at Cas' cock, and wow, it is huge. He wonders how all that will fit inside of him, especially since he's actually never had anything up there before.

Cas reaches down between them and presses two slick fingers to his rim, and Dean flinches at the sudden touch. "I will go slow. Please inform me if you are uncomfortable or wish for me to stop."

Dean nods. Yeah, like he would ever want to stop.

Cas rubs a slick finger in small circles over his hole, then slowly presses it in to the first knuckle. The feeling is strange but not painful—not yet, anyway. Cas looks to him to ensure he is okay, and Dean nods in confirmation, urging him to keep going. He presses the rest slowly inside, and it's not that bad. He relaxes around his finger, making it so it will not be so painful when more get added. Cas, again, checks on him, which he is grateful for. Then he starts to press in a second finger, which begins to sting.

"It stings a little," Dean informs, and Cas pauses his movements. He feels a familiar surge of grace coursing through him, and suddenly the pain is gone.

"Is that better?"

"Yeah, thanks." Cas gives him a reassuring smile and pushes the rest of the way inside. It does not hurt, but he feels fuller. He begins to scissor him open, stretching him out. It is weird to think about, but it is kind of good—unexpected, but good. He pulls his fingers almost entirely out, then thrusts them back in. Dean gasps. Okay, he did not expect himself to like this as much as he does.

On one deep thrust, he hits something that causes Dean's entire body to light up, and he cries out, the wave of pleasure so intense it is impossible to hold back. He does it again. "Caaas!"

"Yes, Dean?" He looks so innocent, but it's all bullshit; he knows what he's doing to him.

"Fuck," Dean breathes. Cas is just too good at this. He needs another finger inside of him, like, right now.

"Cas, please!" He never thought he would be the kind to beg, but holy shit, he needs this.

Cas seems to get it and adds a third finger. The stretch is not painful, which he supposes is because he's using his mojo. He continues thrusting his fingers in and hits that sweet spot a few more times. After he pulls the three fingers out of him, he adjusts himself above Dean and stares down at him, his eyes full of love and awe.

"Are you ready?" he asks, caressing his cheek and stroking the skin just below his eye. Dean leans into the touch.

"Yes." He is nervous, but he's ready for this. This is Cas, and there would be no one else he would do this with. And this is out of love, not just pleasure. He wants to be close to him—as close as possible. He wants to be held by him, loved by him—he wants him to make love to him. It sounds sappy, like most things in the past almost hour or so, but he doesn't care. This is what this is.

Cas lifts Dean's hips, and he wraps his legs around Cas' waist for support, holding onto his shoulders for purchase. He takes his cock in hand, slick with whatever his mojo conjured up, and presses the tip against Dean's rim. Dean doesn't look away, their gazes locked as Cas pushes in, ever so slowly, pausing when just the head is inside. Dean moans. The sensation is new and incredible. It feels much better than he ever imagined it to be, even with just the head inside.

"Oh, Cas. You feel so good. Fill me, please." Cas sinks in further. It is agonizingly slow, but he feels so lucky to have someone who cares about him this much, ensuring he is doing well and feeling comfortable continuing this entirely new form of intercourse for him.

He pushes in further and further until he is buried to the hilt. Dean uses his hold on Cas around his waist and pulls him in, making him slip in even deeper. They both gasp at the new sensation, and Dean lets out a small moan, unable to hold it in.

"Don't move," Dean says, simply wanting to feel Cas buried deep inside him. He closes his eyes and just feels Cas—the weight of him from above, the heat of his body radiating onto Dean's, his huge, perfect cock deep inside him. He feels full, he feels complete, and he loves being filled with Cas. They are so close—the closest someone can ever be with another. They are connected, even in ways beyond the physical, deep and profound, and he never wants to be separated from him again. The thought is impossible, but he wants them to become one, though that can only ever be a dream.

"Okay, move." Cas pulls nearly entirely out, then thrusts back in, his cock slowly dragging against his walls. Dean hums, lips pressed into a thin line, suppressing a moan. Cas' lips are slightly parted, and his eyes are closed, and when he opens them to look at Dean, they are heavy-lidded with his pupils blown wide. His face is the picture of pleasure.

He pulls back, then thrusts back in, repeating the motion. He continues to thrust slowly into Dean, but he soon picks up his pace. Dean is suppressing his moans the best he can, but Cas isn't having it. "Let me hear you, my love. I want to hear you. You sound so beautiful when you moan for me."

My love. It's new, but he likes it—really likes it.

It is sort of embarrassing, but he wants to give Cas all he wants. He would give him the world if he could. And so he holds nothing back, moaning like a fucking porn star as Cas thrusts into him harder. Then, when he angles his hips just right and hits that sweet spot deep inside of him, he cries out in ecstasy.

"Dean, you're so good," Cas pants, his pace quickening as he drives into him harder. He moans, and Dean stares at him, his eyes heavy-lidded. Cas is letting himself go after all these years, and he looks gorgeous and vulnerable. The thought of him being vulnerable makes Dean's heart flutter. Cas has put his whole trust in him, his whole faith, and his love overpowers all else.

"I love you, Dean," he says, his features showing nothing but love and ecstasy.

"I love you, too," he doesn't hesitate to say. It's the truth and a pretty big one, too.

He can't help the smile that comes to his lips, even in the thoroughs of passion. A smile pulls at Cas' lips, as well. He pulls him down, and their lips meet in the most perfect kiss. Dean opens up immediately, and Cas enters, their tongues stroking one another fervently.

Dean can feel his end approaching, and he lifts his hips, meeting Cas on every thrust. The sounds of their passion fill the air around them, and it is all so overwhelming as they moan into each other's mouths, unwilling to separate.

But then Dean tips over the edge, his orgasm shooting right through him. His release paints Cas' belly and chest white, the rest landing on Dean, and he has to break the kiss, crying out in rapture. Cas' hips stutter, his movements becoming erratic. Then, in only a matter of seconds, his orgasm rips right out of him, and he shoots his load inside Dean, filling him up even further. He is full to the brim and wants to stay like this forever, but he can't—he knows he can't. And so he savors this feeling. Everything he is feeling at this moment he has never felt before or is significantly enhanced.

They moan as the shockwaves of their orgasms course through them and gradually settle into a pleasant thrum beneath their skin. The noises Cas makes are so foreign to Dean and probably even to Cas himself. His moans sound divine, and Dean can't help but be proud that he is making Cas feel this way.

They ride out their orgasms together, sharing heavy breaths between them. Cas leans down and kisses Dean long and slow through the aftershocks, and Dean kisses back, putting every ounce of love into it—showing how much he loves him. He loves him so goddamn much.

When they pull apart, Cas pulls out of him, which is not such a pleasant sensation, and he winces, but then Cas comes to his side, lying down beside him. Dean can feel cum leaking out of his ass, but he doesn't care; it is just another way Cas has marked him.

Dean can barely move as Cas pulls him into his arms. He runs his fingers through his hair in a gentle, soothing touch. "I'm sorry, Dean. I felt your longing, but I never knew it was for me, and now that I do, I want to give you everything you have wanted since the moment you knew you loved me." He smiles softly. "I love you; that will never change."

With some effort, Dean turns in Cas' arms on his side, staring him in his captivating blue eyes. "And don't you ever think I don't love you, because I do. Got that?"

"Yes." Dean smiles and goes in for one more kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead against Cas'. He closes his eyes, the comfort and safety he feels within the hold of Cas' arms soothing him. His eyes become heavy, and he falls into sleep with a contented smile.

A decade has passed in Heaven since they first got together. So much has happened within those heartening, peaceful years; they made love almost daily, got married, and got a home together on the side of a mountain with an astonishing view of the mountainous landscape and tall trees and especially the elegant sunset, with the colors so delicate and exquisite, and so much more. He is finally at rest. They both are.

Jack finally made an appearance after Cas mentioned what went on, and since then, he has visited every once in a while. Dean was pissed at him for the first few visits, but he couldn't stay mad at him forever, so he had to get over it and talk to the kid other than nearly cussing him out. A few choice words slipped that probably should not have, and apologies were made on both ends later down the road. He never got an explanation from Jack, but he can't be stuck on it. What matters most now is that they are finally together, living the best life—afterlife?—together.

Everything is perfect. They are at peace.

They are standing next to each other on the patio, leaning on the banister, staring out at the sunset together. The last remnants of the sun's golden light blesses them with its warm, delicate beams shining down upon them. Their hands rest on the banister between them, fingers interlaced.

Dean turns to look at Cas, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. "I love you," he says, just because.

Cas turns to face him, and he has a smile of his own. "I love you, too."

Dean turns fully and closes the distance between them, giving him a slow, delicate kiss. When he pulls back, there is nothing but love shown on Cas' face, and the warm bubble around them feels all the better.

Dean leans in and bumps their noses together, giving him Eskimo kisses. Cas chuckles and returns the gesture.

"What are you laughing about?" Dean asks, his happiness prominent in his voice.

"I love it when you do that." His smile is bigger, and the sight makes Dean's heart swell with love for his angel.

Dean pulls back. "Me, too." He turns back to stare out at the sunset, as well as Cas, staying close with their hands held, fingers laced together, gentle and warm. Everything is tranquil and perfect. It is everything they have ever wanted.

Standing next to each other, warm and content, there is love.