The Mailman is Really Attractive and Dean is Smitten
When Dean first saw the new mailman that Saturday afternoon, his body had such an immediate and visceral reaction, he had to excuse himself to his bedroom for a little quality time with his right hand.
Seriously, it was insane; nothing like that had ever happened to Dean. He only figured out that he was attracted to both guys and guys about a year ago, but heād never even had that sort of response to a girl. And whatās worse? It was one of the best experiences heās ever had jacking off.
Like, no shit, that mailman was the hottest human Dean ever laid eyes on, and he wasnāt even Deanās type! Dean had always gone for the petite guys, because you know, he was a dom. Well, with guys he was. He had actually started experimenting letting girls top him, and much to his own embarrassment, he actually really liked it. There was something about someone else being in control that was hot as fuck. But, just girls. He wanted nothing in his asshole, ever, thank you very much. But anyway, even though he only ever had pursued twink-types, the mailman was buff as fuck. He had looked like he was about Deanās height, and the summer heat-induced sweat made for a uniform that clung to his body just so Dean could see rippling muscle underneath. And the shorts, no matter how silly looking for being as short as they were, let Dean see the legs of either a runner who swims in his spare time or just the legs of an actual Adonis. And his forearms! God, so strong and tanned and--Dean noticed he was developing another situation down south and forced himself to concentrate on gross things like old people making out or his brother Samās face. Good, good; the situation went back down.
An uneventful week later, and Dean was back looking out his front window, shamelessly watching and waiting for the new mailman. He had no idea if he was actually going to come around again; hell, he might have just been filling in that one day for the old guy that Dean normally saw bringing the mail.
But Deanās curiosity was rewarded, because after about ten minutes of casual spying, he noticed the mailman walking up the sidewalk with his messenger bag over one shoulder, radiating sexual appeal. God, he was just as hot as last week.
Oh my god, wait, he walked by the mailbox and towards the door. He was coming to the door. He probably had a package or something. But not the porno kind. Shit, what if he saw Dean last week? Dean jumped behind his couch as fast as humanly possible and tried to not breathe, because nobody was home. No one. Was. Home.
The doorbell rang, and Dean sucked his breath in and froze. Shit, the TV was on. He had completely forgotten it, and now the sexy mailman was going to know he was hiding like a kid afraid of Jehovahās Witnesses, and he was going to judge him ughhhh. Suffice to say, Dean was fucking embarrassed.
He waited a solid five minutes before sneaking back to the window and checking the mailman was gone before opening his front door and grabbing the package off the step. His embarrassment was forgotten quickly, because it was his Star Trek phaser from ThinkGeek! Charlie was going to be sooooo jealous, and he couldnāt fucking wait to gloat. He snapped a picture of it and shot it off to her.
Dean: Looks like I win the gayness contest, because I can set phasers to STUN #2fab4u
Charlie: Oh my god, it came!!
Charlie: You had better bring that to work Monday so I can play with it
Dean: Only if you promise to not break it
Charlie: Btw did you see the hottie today??
Dean: Duh where did you think the package came from?
Charlie: DID YOU TALK TO HIM?!?!
Dean: You kidding? No way, Jose
Charlie: Ugh youāre no fun
Charlie: Wait. I have an idea! You should write him a letter and put it in your mailbox so he can read it when he brings your mail!!
Dean: Do you even know me? Charmando, I wouldnāt do something like that if my life depended on it
Charlie: Youāre such a scaredy cat, Winchester
Drunk Dean sometimes did things that Sober Dean had to pay for, especially when his best friend/arch nemesis Charlie was involved. They always went for drinks together after work on Fridays, and somehow Dean always ended up being the only one of the two of them that did stupid, drunk person stuff. He was beginning to suspect that maybe she didnāt actually even drink, just pretended to so that she could talk his more malleable alter ego into doing what she wanted him to. Like, just a random example, writing a note to the sexy mailman.
He was going to kill her. Saturday morning met him with a skull splitting headache, and more importantly, oodles of regret. Because yes, he could vaguely remember sitting down with a pen and a piece of paper last night and writingā¦ something. God, he couldnāt remember what the hell he had written. Maybe he had enough time to run out to the mailbox and take it out before it was too late!
Dean pulled on his sweatpants and charged out into the painfully bright midday sun. Despite his bodyās many protests, he made it to the mailbox in record time, but it was for nothing, because when he opened it up, the note was gone and had been replaced by what looked like a bill and some coupons for pizza. He couldnāt really be sure, because his eyes felt like he was stabbing them full of needles. He defeatedly walked back into his house and pulled out his phone.
Dean: Dude. What happened last night. Tell me or Iām going to send your girlfriend your prom photos
He waited for a response while chewed discontentedly on a piece of cold bacon from the fridge and sipping a glass of water. He didnāt have to wait for long though, and he soon heard the telltale R2-D2 beep that was Charlieās text alert noise.
Charlie: You were so plastered, my man. It was wild.
Charlie: I take it you only just woke up and didnāt have time to get the letter out of the box?
Dean: Shit, so that really happened? Dear god, tell me I didnāt write anything too embarrassing?
Charlie: You politely told him you wanted to suck his dick
Dean: Iāve got the picture ready to send!
Charlie: Ugh, fine. No, all you said was that you thought he looked nice and were wondering what happened to the old guy who used to bring your mail. Tbh it was pretty cute. I love drunk you
Dean sighed in relief. It was still as embarrassing as balls, but maybe the guy will think Dean has a kid or something and they wrote it. He can only hope at this point.
When Dean got home from work Monday evening and opened up the mailbox, his hopes that the mailman would just ignore the letter were proven useless.
Sitting there in the box, on top of a classic car magazine he subscribed to, was a small blue envelope with no stamp and just his first name in rather lovely script in the middle. He ripped it open before he even got inside, because holy fuck, thereās no one who would drive by his house just to put a letter in my mail other than Mr. Sexypants. It read:
Iām guessing by your handwriting and subject matter that youāre either a child or a drunk man. If itās the former, please tell your parents that I am not a pedophile. Please. If youāre an adult and just have terrible handwriting, Iām sorry for touching on a sore subject.
Anyway, Cain, your previous mail carrier, was only working your route temporarily. He actually is one of the higher-ups for the USPS and was delivering mail as a sort of extended vacation from management. Odd, I know.
I appreciate that you think I look nice, and if youāre the adult male who lives at this address, I think you do too. If youāre a child, Iām sure you look nice, but in a non-pedophilic way.
Oh my god, Dean was in love. Haha, just kidding. Heās not in love; what are you talking about? Totally not in love. Nope, not at all. He lunged inside, pulled off his jacket and tie, and began furiously debating whether or not to tell Charlie about this. On the one hand, sheās his only real friend besides his younger brother, who is constantly busy with lawyer-things. But on the other hand, she would totally gloat about this for the rest of her life. But fuck it, he needs to talk to someone about this, because he never has romance in his life!
Dean: Omg youāll never believe what happened\\
Dean: Mr. Double Stuffed Hotness is named Castiel, and I might want to marry him
Charlie: HE WROTE BACK?!?! Itās fate, my young grasshopper
Dean: Iām gonna send you a pic of the letter he wrote back so you can help me figure out what to write back
Charlie: You had better let me be your best man!! AND let me officiate!!! Iām already planning my speech
Dean: Donāt get ahead of yourselfā¦ but Iām actually kind of psyched rn
And so the planning began. Eventually, they decided on a note that read the following:
As you deduced, I was drunk. Donāt worry, Iāll tell my parents you arenāt a pedophile anyway, just in case. Of course, theyāre both in their 60s and will probably also assume Iām drunk, but better safe than sorry.
Thank you for saying I look nice, though I canāt imagine when youāve seen me. Iām normally at work when you bring the mail (around 1:30pm, right?), so have you seen me on a Saturday? Okay, you donāt need to answer, just in case youāre actually a stalker or something. Itās never good to confront the bad guy in horror movies, and Iāve learned my lesson.
Hey, is your name really Castiel, or is that a pseudonym? I googled it, and itās the name of the Angel of Thursday? Whatās so special about Thursdays?
Iām very glad I wonāt be going to jail for calling a child attractive. You can probably hear my sigh of relief from there.
I can neither confirm nor deny when/where I have seen you. Also, are you calling me the antagonist of a horror film? If so, please enlighten me on which one, because Iām rather a fan of being scared shitless, and Iām sure seeing myself as the murderer will make an horror viewing experience even more terrifying.
And yes, my name is really Castiel. Letās just say my parents were hippies. Many people call me Cas, though, and my siblings call me Cassie. I donāt like my siblings very much.
What about you? Why are you named Dean? Did your parents hope you would create a list of exceptional people? Or perhaps they wanted you to grown up to resemble Dean Martin?
Iām sorry, I donāt know where all that rude sass came from; itās been a long day.
I had a girlfriend named Cassie once! Sort that information away for a future test, I suppose. How many siblings do you have? I one brother, and he can be such a bitch sometimes, so I definitely get where youāre coming from.
As it happens, Iām named after my grandmother, Deanna. And I swear to god, if you make fun of me for that, I will, um, do somethingā¦ I donāt know exactly what yet, but Iāll figure it out, and itāll be awful, I promise!
So, is it really that hard being a mailman? (You said it had been a rough day.) Iām a mechanic, by the way. If you ever need to know anything about cars, just hit me up, and Iāll be happy to help. For a priceā¦ Ha, just kidding. Maybeā¦
Dammit Cas, Iām a mechanic, not a doctor!
I find it slightly perturbing that my nickname is also the name of your ex. But I always ace tests, so I guess Iām glad to know it anyway.
I have 5 siblings. I know. Hippies donāt believe in birth control, I guess. But yes, family of 8, from Michael the oldest, down to Sam the youngest. Since Iām on the subject, I suppose I might as well list off all my siblings. Thereās Mike, Gabe, Luce, me, Anna, and Sam, ranging in ages from 37 to 21. Oh, Iām the ripe old age of 29, by the way. Not that that matters. Jesus, this entire letter is me talking about my family, sorry.
And no, itās not hard being a mailman, but it is hard having to take your beloved cat to the veterinarian because theyāre refusing to eat, not having bowel movements, and rolling around on the floor, meowing in pain. The poor guy had a blockage and almost died. It was a tough day.
I might just take you up on your offer to help explain things about cars, because I am completely clueless about them. I drive an old clunker that eats gas money like nobodyās business, and I really need to get a new car as soon as possible.
Have you been at the Romulan ale again??
I know I signed my last note with a Bones reference, but make no mistake, I am 100% Kirk, and I would appreciate it if you referred to me as such. Thank you for not forcing me to pursue legal action.
Dude, my younger brother is named Sam! Well, technically heās named Samuel, after our grandfather, but still. Weird. And Iām 32, so thatās cool I guess.
Iām sorry to hear about your cat; that sounds pretty awful. Iāve never really had pets, and Iām actually allergic to cats, but I remember when Sammyās dog was hit by a car and how distraught he was. Iām guessing your cat is all right now, though? If so, Iām glad. If not, sorry for rubbing salt in the wound.
Dude, do not drive that car. Like, stop it now. Please, for the sake of car lovers everywhere. Take it down to Singerās Auto Salvage Yard; Bobby is a friend of mine, and if you tell him I sent you, heāll give you a good price for it, and then you can use that money to buy something thatās not a piece of shit.
*funny Star Trek reference here*
Captain James Tiberius Kirk
Can you sense me rolling my eyes? Because thereās some serious ocular oscillation going on right now in reference to your threats.
And I shortened my Samās name, too. His full name is Samandriel. Hippies, am I right?
Yes, my cat is fine, thank Talos. He is my best friend, and I donāt think I would be able to function properly if something happened to him. Heās a black shorthair named Toothless, by the way. Yes, Iām a basic bitch. Bite me.
Iāll try and take your advice about the car. I think my car is actually the automobile form of Sauronās ring of power, because every time Iāve tried to get rid of it, it talks me into keeping it. I know in my heart that it needs to be torn apart for scraps, that it is taking advantage of me and should be destroyed before it does something terrible, but itās mine. My own. My...preciousā¦
Oh, my biggest problem is that if I sell her, I donāt know anything about buying cars, so Iām afraid someone will take advantage of my naivete and sell me an equally shitty car for a ridiculous price. Any suggestions?
Spock Spock Spock-ity Spock
God, I wish my parents had been hippies. Instead they were hippos. Yep, I was adopted by a pair of hippopotami at the age of four. Donāt believe me? Ask the Topeka Zoo, and theyāll corroborate my story. (Please donāt actually do that; they might remember me from when I was a teenager and broke in there to try and pet the giraffes.)
And I will never judge anyone for loving How To Train Your Dragon, because that movie was legendary. Toothless is the cutest dragon probably ever, and Hiccup is such a dreamboat.
Um, we definitely need to get rid of that car. Do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks! Iām trying to help you. And speaking of helping you, if you find a car and want to know just how swindled youāre going to be, just send me the information, and I can let you know if you should buy it or not!
Soā¦ what kind of music do you like? Iām a big classic rock fan, and if you arenāt I will become determined to change that about you.
Can we up switch references? Maybe Princess Bride or something?
I find your story inconceivable. But did you truly grow up in Kansas? Personally, I grew up in the wilds of Washington; Seattle, actually.
And good; I would be very upset with you if you didnāt love Toothless and Hiccup, though I must say Hiccup is not exactly my type. I like my men a little older than he (recall that Iām not a pedophile), and I think any man I may date should definitely be my size or larger, or else I might kill them accidentally in bed. Huh, I guess we havenāt really talked about sexuality ever, so sorry if that made you uncomfortable.
I would greatly appreciate it if you would actually send me your phone number or email or something, so I could send you the information on a car Iām seriously considering buying. If youād rather not hand out such personal information, I completely understand though.
I confess I havenāt listened to much classic rock. I mostly listen to classical music, though Iāve been delving into the genre of lofi hiphop, and I actually really enjoy it.
You keep using that word; I do not think it means what you think it meansā¦
Yes, I grew up in Kansas, a little town called Lawrence to be precise. And the bit about breaking into the zoo was real too, so please donāt report me.
And honestly, Iām kind of in a weird experimental stage with my sexuality right now. I know, thatās supposed to happen during college, but maybe Iām just not a normal guy, all right? Anyway, I think Iāve officially decided Iām bisexual, but who knows? Romance is tiring, but sex is fun, and I donāt really mind who the hole belongs to. Jesus, that sounded awful and disgusting; sorry. Iām not even really like that any more. I havenāt had a hookup for like three months, which has got to be some kind of record. Sorry, this I should stop writing while I have the chance.
Totally send me the deets about the car, man. My number is 1-866-907-3235
Dude, Iām going to indoctrinate you. You fucking need to listen to classic rock; itās the stuff of gods. Maybe Iāll make you a mixtape or something so you can listen to all the best songs. Weird question: do you have a tape player? Iām kind of old fashioned, so yeah, Iām going to make you a cassette tape with my favorite Zepp tracks on it.
Mahwage, dah bwessed awangment,
For some reason, it was taking Cas a long time to get back to Dean. They had kind of worked out an unspoken schedule by this point; one of them put a letter in the box Monday, the other responded by Wednesday, and then the first sent back a response the Friday of the same week. Basically three letter a week for the past month or so. No, thatās not weird or creepy for two adult men to do at all.
Dean had dropped off that last letter on a Monday, but no reply came on Wednesday. He tried to not let it bother him, thinking Cas was probably busy or something. But then there wasnāt a reply Thursday or Friday either, and he started to get a little miffed. The least Cas could have done was to text him now that he had his number, but noooo. Unfortunately, Dean had to be out of town that Saturday, so no confrontation could happen over the 1:30 mail delivery.
The next Saturday rolled around with no word from Cas again, and Dean was starting to get legitimately worried. He would have understood if the guy took some time off maybe for being sick or something, but two weeks? Nobody takes two weeks off, especially without telling theirā¦ friend? Suddenly, Deanās ridiculous number of insecurities started blaring at him. What if he and Cas werenāt friends? What if he didnāt actually mean anything to Cas at all? He probably was just another drain on Casā time, and Cas had finally decided heād had enough and didnāt want to talk to Dean anymore. Hell, he might have requested a different route because Dean was harassing him. Shit, of course all this was too good to be true. Dean never made friends; Charlie was the only acception to that painful trend, and he had no idea why she still hung out with him.
Dean knew those thoughts too well; he knew his own self-loathing always came around and wouldnāt leave until he started thinking about other things. So, he thought about Cas. It was almost 1:30, two weeks since heād heard from him last, and he decided to camp out at the mailbox and wait for whoever came. He had to know if Cas was all right, at least. The guy was his friend, even if maybe Cas didnāt see him as one.
He didnāt have long to wait before seeing his old mailman (Cain, was it?) peddling a sleek bicycle down the sidewalk with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder.
āUm, hey, sorry to bother you. Cain, is it?ā Dean fidgeted, feeling awkward as fuck.
āYes, thatās me. Can I help you with something?ā Huh, okay, Cain seemed like a pretty chill guy. Maybe Dean could actually avoid a panic attack from doing something this wild.
āUh, yeah. Do you know Castiel? He brought mail on this route for a while? I just havenāt seen him in a while, and I was worried that something happened.ā Dean was talking too fast, but he couldnāt help it, okay?
āI know Castiel, and I know he took off a few weeks. Donāt know why though; maybe a vacation or something. I wouldnāt worry about it though, if I were you.ā
Oh Dean was gonna worry about it, no doubt about that. Because wow, he was glad Cas was all right and not dead somewhere, but Jesus, what kind of douchebag friend goes on an extended vacation without so much as a goodbye?? So yeah, Dean was going to worry about what he did wrong and why he never could keep friends, and why he was such a fucked up excuse for a human being. Awesome.
Dean was depressed. Charlie tried cheering him up but to no avail. He was just depressed. He actually took the day off on Monday, because he was such a fucking sissy who couldnāt deal with anything. God, no wonder Cas didnāt care about him. No one should care about him; he was so pathetic.
The doorbell rang. Dean lifted his head from the pillow it had been buried in for the entire first half of the day and decided he probably ought to answer the door, seeing as there was a 98% chance it was Charlie with pie and beer and a chick flick to make him feel better. God, she was too good for him; he didnāt deserve such a good friend.
He pulled the door open and was greeted by the invisible man; wait no, there was a package and a pile of mail on the front step. He sighed and picked it all up, then promptly dropped it all on the floor, shut the door, and collapsed on the couch. He didnāt feel like looking at the mail. He didnāt feel like doing anything except for sleeping. Ugh.
But maybe that package would cheer him up. He rolled his eyes at the tiny optimistic voice in his head and then rolled right off the couch and crawled to the pile of mail. He grabbed package without so much as glancing over the letters, probably all bills, and violently tore it open. Ooh, it was those custom leather-bound journals he ordered off Etsy. One was embroidered with his Hogwarts House logo (Hufflepuff and proud!) and the other matched it but had Charlieās House (Ravenclaw, more like Raven...dumb! Good one). One of the few things he was ashamed of about being a sissy was doing things like buying matching things for himself and his best friend, or having sleepovers with his best friend, or planning his future wedding with his best friend. ANYway.
Okay, cool, the opening the package plan had worked! Dean was feeling better already. But then he saw it. Underneath the topmost bill was a little blue envelope. Deanās hand had never moved so fast (yes, never).
Sure enough, it was from Cas. But unlike all the other letters Dean had gotten from him, this one was stamped and had both mailing and return addresses on it. Without stopping to think about what the fuck that could possibly mean, Dean ripped open the letter and read:
I am so sorry I havenāt written you in so long. To put it succinctly, my father had a heart attack, and I had to go to to Washington to be with him. The past two weeks have been about family and rekindling our relationships with each other. My father passed away two nights ago, and the funeral was yesterday. I know we never really talk about serious things, but I hope you wonāt mind if I tell you this.
Honestly, as heartbroken as I am to see my father pass, Iām grateful that it has brought my family back together. All of us were there with him at the end, all of us were gathered around his bedside as he breathed his last. And he went peacefully, so Iām also grateful for that. Iāll be staying up here for another few days before flying back, and then Iāll be back to work as normal. I put my address that Iām staying at while Iām in Seattle as the return address, but Iāll add my home address too at the bottom of the page; it only feels fair that since I know where you live, you should know where I do too.
Again, Iām sorry if I made you worry at all. I know you might not see me the same way, but youāve actually become one of my closest friends over the past month. What that says about my personal life? That Iām very awkward and antisocial, thatās what it says.
I hope to talk to you soon,
Thank the fucking lord. Dean let go of a breath he hadnāt realized heād been holding and grabbed his phone.
Dean: Cas is okay!! His dad died but heāll be back soon
Charlie: Wait, his dad died, but heāll be back soon? Who is he, god? I mean, Jesus. Whatever, Iām not required to make good religious jokes
Charlie: But yay!! Iām so glad for you!! Maybe now youāll stop sulking like a little lost puppy
As promised, Cas was back by the end of the week, and Dean couldnāt stop grinning when he looked out his window Saturday to see Cas walking up to his mailbox.
He pulled the door open and ran out, unprecedented behavior from the man afraid to make eye contact with girl scouts selling cookies outside the front of the grocery store.
āCas! Itās good to see you, man!ā He went in for a hug, but then it got a little too real, so it ended up being one of those awkward side-hugs that no one really likes but everyone has to deal with.
Cas smiled back widely, and Dean got a little lost in his eyes. Wow, heād never actually seen Cas up close, and now that he did, he could tell that Cas was actually the most attractive man alive. His ocean blue eyes drew Dean in, and he found himself completely phasing out to the point that Cas had to repeat a question three times before he could respond.
āSorry, um, what was that?ā Was the response. Classic.
āI asked if you were all right; you look a little phased.ā No shit, Sherlock.
āUh yeah, Iām fine. Just a little tired.ā
āI was a little worried Iād scared you off with my last letter, seeing as how you didnāt write back.ā Shit, Dean had forgotten to.
āFuck, I totally forgot that I had your address. I guess Iām not used to actually properly sending letters, not just putting them in the mailbox.ā They shared a quiet laugh before Dean went on, somberly. āIām really sorry about your dad. My mom passed a few years back, and I know how painful it is.ā
Cas smiles sadly. āYeah, it was rough, but like I said in the letter, it really brought my family together, and Iām sure dad would have been happy to see the impact he had on us.ā He paused, and Dean could there was something more rolling around in his mind, so he decided to stay silent and let Cas finish his thought. āItās funny, he was such an absent father when we were growing up. I know he was different when he and my mom were first married; I think he was a carpenter or something, and he was always at home with Mike and Luce when they were little. But then his business took off, and by the time I was in diapers, he was hardly ever around. Business trips, late nights working, early morning meetings, it never ended. It kind of tore our family apart, bit by bit. First, Gabe ran away when he was 16. He didnāt get in touch with any of us for almost a whole year. Later, he told me he just couldnāt stand to see all the arguing and pain in our family. Then it was Luce, angrily storming off to college and refusing to answer our calls or emails. He loved all of us, his siblings so much, and I think watching dadās absence affect us younger kids really took a toll on him.ā
Suddenly, Casā eyes flashed up, and his cheeks grew pink. āOh my god, Iām so sorry, Iāve just been standing here, telling you my lifeās story. And fuck, Iām on the clock; I really need to run.ā
Before Cas could move, Dean grabbed his wrist. āWait, can you give me your phone number? I put mine in my last letter to you, but Iām guessing you didnāt get that.ā
They exchanged numbers as quickly as possible, and Cas ran off towards the next house on his route. Dean grinned as he watched his run away and immediately send him a trial-run text.
Dean: If you gave me a fake number, Iām going to go to your house and shave your cat
Off in the distance (only about 200 feet, to be perfectly honest), Cas stopped and looked down at his phone, and Dean could not hold back a huge laugh.
Castiel: Toothless would kill your sorry ass
Oh my god, youāre so fetch.
Sorry Cas, I donāt know why, but I really felt like I had to change our theme to Mean Girls. Sue me. (Also, you better have fucking watched Mean Girls, or there will be hell to pay.)
So, my friend Charlie talked me into this, but I guess I kind of agreed with her that I ought to do it. And you can totally say no thanks, not interested, and itāll be completely fine! But, I was wondering if maybe youād be interesting in going on a date with me sometimeā¦?
Wow, I am a child. Well, a teenage girl, to be precise. Oh shit, and you keep telling me youāre not a pedophile, so youāre definitely not going to want to go out with me now that you know my true identity. Well this is a fine mess Iāve gotten myself into.
Have you sold that car yet? You should really get on that.
Of course Iāve seen Mean Girls, Iām not that out of the proverbial loop.
And would you please thank your friend Charlie for me? Iāll admit, Iāve wanted to go on a date with you for a quite a while now, but ye oleā social ineptitude wouldnāt let me ask. Maybe text me when you get this, and we can work out a time/place? Saturday nights are usually best for me, considering Iām always off Sundays.
Please Dean, if youāre a teenage girl, then I am too, and then itās not pedophilia.
And no, I havenāt sold it yet, because I havenāt decided on a new one to buy yet, because in case you hadnāt noticed, my life has been a little hectic lately. Iāll try and text you the details on the car Iām looking at soon, though.
Saturday night is there before Dean can get his shit together. He had frantically texted Charlie minutes after making the date with Cas asking her what he should wear and how he should act and whether he should just run away and never come back. You know, normal stuff.
In the end, he and Cas had decided on meeting an a small burger place near Casā place, so Dean knew he shouldnāt wear something too fancy. But he didnāt want to wear just his every minute of every day bluejeans, t-shirt, and flannel combo. So, with some sagely advice from Charlie, heās decided on his most flattering pair of grey jeans and a button down maroon shirt, freshly ironed. Honestly, not half bad, even by his self-degrading standards. He toyed with the idea of a grey tie with the top two buttons of his collar undone, and decided it was too snazzy for him to refuse.
A 15-minute drive later, he was walking into the restaurant and looking around for Cas. And boy, did he find him. Cas was wearing a tight pair of black jeans, an Egyptian blue button down, and a black waistcoat, and holy fuck, Dean was having another southward situation just at the sight. He repeated the words āpuss, flesh, old-people skin,ā in his head for half a minute until everything was hunky dory again, then made his way to the bar where Cas was standing.
āYou look great, Cas.ā Dean grinned when he saw Cas blatantly checking his ass. The good old grey jeans never fail.
āAs do you, Dean,ā Cas responded, his pupils mildly larger than probably normal.
They made their way over to a small corner booth and waived down a waitress. Adorably enough, they both ordered the same bacon cheeseburger, and in the time it took for their food to arrive, they discussed possible future heart health and how they were both going to die eventually, so it might as well be from eating delicious food.
āDude, if baconās what gets me, I win,ā Dean remarked right before taking a huge bite into his burger.
Cas harrumphed in agreement, then moaned around the first bite of his own burger.
Uh oh. Turned out, visual Cas is nothing compared to audible Cas in terms of making Deanās nether regions all kinds of interested. To put it simply, Dean was sitting at a booth, on a first date, a burger in his mouth, almost completely hard. Awesome.
āDean, are you okay?ā Shit, Cas apparently noticed the panicked look on Deanās face, and Deanās face burned red.
āUm, yeah, Iām fine. I, um, just kinda have a littleā¦ situation. Downstairs. God this is so embarrassing; Iām soooooo, so sorry. Please donāt hate me.ā
Cas was quiet for a second, then burst out with infectious laughter, and Dean couldnāt help but join in. āOh my god, thatās hilarious. Was it become of the groan I just made orā¦?ā
Dean ran a hand through his hair before responding, āUm, yeah. Fuck. Look, I havenāt gotten
laid in close to three months, so cut me a little slack. And honestly, Iām really sorry. I wanted this
to be a really special first date, but I feel like I kind of ruined it.ā Like Dean ruined everything.
āOh, no no no! Really, I understand much better than youād think,ā Cas assuaged his fear and sorrow with a comforting pat on the back on the hand. āItās honestly fine. Now, do you need to go to take a trip to the bathroom, or are you all right now?ā
Dean informed Cas that apparently humiliation was not one of his kinks, and the situation had resolved itself, and they were able to go on with their dinner like it had never happened.
But you know, it did happen, and Dean hadnāt had sex in months, and Cas was the hottest date Dean had ever had. SO yeah. Things happen.
After an amazing evening of burgers, pie, beer, and literal hours of conversation, they decided it was definitely time for them to part ways. Cas had walked to the restaurant, so Dean offered to drop him off on his way home, and Cas gratefully accepted.
The car ride was normal, if slightly tense. They were both slightly buzzed and totally attracted to each other, after all. But it was chill.
Dean pulled up to Casā home, a cozy-looking apartment complex, and parked his car in one of the visitor spots. They both climbed out and walked together up to Casā door.
āSo, I had an awesome time tonight,ā Dean half-mumbled, really trying his best to appear like he wasnāt desperate to go out with Cas again as soon as possible. āYou think you might want to do this again sometime? I mean, really, I totally get it if like Iām not your type or youāre just not into me or you think Iām too--ā
Cas slammed their faces (particularly their lips) together, effectively cutting off Deanās self-abusive train of thought and filling his mind with only the pure bliss of Casā warm mouth on his, their tongues fighting for dominance. Casā mouth tasted amazing, like apple pie and happiness. Dean hungrily chased the flavour, and he couldnāt get enough. They broke for air for just a minute before Cas wheeled Dean around and up against his apartment door, weaving one hand into his hair and grabbing Deanās own hand with the other, pinning it up against the door above his head.
Dean had never felt less in control, and it was amazing. He could feel the strength in Casā body shoved up against his own. He felt vulnerable, but for once in his life, he was okay with that vulnerability.
Cas moved his mouth down from Deanās mouth to his neck, peppering the skin with hot, wet kisses. He settled on one spot, the meaty place between Deanās neck and right shoulder and assaulted it with licks, kisses, nibbles, and sucks. He was driving Dean crazy, and Dean honestly couldnāt stop himself from moaning out, āUhhhh, Casā¦ā
Maybe it was something about how he broke the silence, but Cas suddenly stilled and looked up at Dean, alarm filling his eyes. āOh my god, Dean, Iām sorry. Iāve never done this before; I donāt know what came over me.ā He stepped back from Dean and rubbed his hands over his face.
āWhat? Whyād you stop?ā Dean replied, feeling suddenly abandoned.
Cas locked eyes with Dean and said very seriously, āI have no idea what Iām doing, Dean. Iāve never had sex; hell, Iāve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a week. And youāre this amazing, attractive man who has had so much sex and knows all about it, and Iām just going to embarrass myself and itāll be terrible and--ā
This time, Dean satisfies the cliche, cutting off Casā river of doubts with a kiss into which he poured all the words he wanted to say but didnāt know how: that Cas made him feel safe and comfortable and like he could be himself and still feel appreciated and cared for and special and important.
Cas seemed to get the message, and he quickly took control once again, holding Dean tight in his arms and kissing him with more passion than is in an entire episode of Casa Erotica.
Dean had been hard for a while now, and as Cas clung to him, he could feel that Cas was in about the same spot as he was. But shit, if Cas was a virgin, that would put a lot of weight on Deanās shoulders, right? He wanted to make it perfect for Cas, because thatās what Cas deserved.
But apparently, Cas had a completely different idea. He pulled away from Dean, and with his pupils completely blown wide and dark, moved his mouth to Deanās ear and whispered, āIām going to make you feel so good.ā
Huh, well, Dean realized at that moment he was completely, 100%, no doubt about it, a bottom. And apparently, Casā self-confidence boosted itself threefold when he was horny, so yeah. That was pretty sweet.
Cas fumbled with his apartment keys and opened the front door before pushing Dean inside and slamming the door behind them. He kiss-walked (that thing where people are joined at the mouth but still manage to move around, thatās honestly kind of impressive if you think about it) Dean to what Dean assumed could only be his bedroom and shoved him onto the bed before climbing on top of waist and resuming kissing him like a man dying of dehydration and Deanās mouth was a fucking water fountain.
Without breaking their lip lock, Cas scrambled to get Deanās tie off, and Dean did his best to help with the clothing removal process, but his efforts were mostly futile.
Finally, after a Ā pathetically long and unromantic struggle, they were both naked, and Dean was basically drooling at the sight of Casā dick. Like, holy hell, itās not like Dean himself was small, but Jesus, he was embarrassed of his own length in the presence of Casā massiveness.
Cas grinned with a hungry look in his eye as he took Dean in, and Dean felt suddenly self conscious as Cas scanned him so carefully.
Cas noticed the change in Deanās demeanor and guessed the source quickly. āDean, you are so beautiful,ā his husky voice reassured before leaning in and capturing Deanās lips once again, this time with a contrastingly gentle and loving kiss, and for once in his life, Dean let himself actually believe that about himself.
The kiss soon got more heated, and Casā hands began exploring Deanās body, starting in his hair, traveling down his chest, over his hips, and down his thighs. Dean moaned and realized that, much to his embarrassment, he was actually close.
Fortunately, Cas seemed to sense he should advance things, and he trailed his hands back up to Deanās throbbing cock. Dean let out a punched groan at the first touch to his hot member, squeezed his eyes shut tight, and clenched his fists behind Casā back. āSo good, Casā¦ā
Casā hand left his cock for a minute, and Dean heard the telltale sounds of someone spitting before the hand returned, slick and tight. Just a couple tugs and Dean was coming with a shout. āOh, Cas, oh fuck, Cas!ā
He had never come so quickly in his entire life, but Dean couldnāt even find it in himself to be ashamed, especially as he heard Cas grunting as he followed directly behind him.
A sudden worried look fell over Casā face. āWas it bad? Iām sorry, I know we both came really fast.ā
Dean laughed and tried his best kiss the pouting look off of Cas. āNo, it was amazing, Cas. Jesus, that was the most vanilla shit Iāve ever done, but it was perfect.ā Dean sighed and steeled himself before continuing. āAnd actually, I think the reason it was perfect was because, well, it was with you, Cas.ā
āHoneybee, Iām home!ā Dean stripped off his big winter coat and hung it on the hook by the front door.
āIām in the kitchen, Dean!ā Dean stalked through the house and up behind his husband, snaking his arms around the other manās broad chest and leaning over his shoulder to give him a peck on the cheek.
āHow was work today?ā Dean asked, glancing around the kitchen and noticing with a grin what looked suspiciously like the mess left after someone has baked an apple pie.
āWork was lovely, thank you. Of course, that was mostly because of the letter I got from my favorite stop on my favorite route.ā Cas grinned and spun around to give Dean a proper kiss.
āIām your favorite?!ā Dean grinned and pulled back before Cas could kiss him
Cas rolled his eyes, āNo, Iām talking about our neighbor, Mrs. Tran.ā
āI love you too, babe.ā Dean finally let himself be pulled into his husbandās eager arms and smiled into the kiss. Fate was kind of awesome. Ā
