In which Dean and Cas get a couplesâ massage and Dean opens his heart chakra. Or, the author tried to write slow burn UST and it turned into angst #sorrynotsorry
Dean padded in his ridiculous white terrycloth slippers after Cas down a hallway of the on-site spa. They wore matching bathrobes and were full of the breakfast of rice, black beans, fried plantains, and fresh mango that had been delivered to their room. The paperwork they had found in their âroomâ (which was really a freestanding cabana opening to the sandy beach) disclosed that each couple began their retreat with a ârelaxing and healing couples massage.â
Dean barely had time to glance at the agenda before rolling onto the bed and falling asleep, fully dressed on top of the covers. The Xanax had apparently taken stronger hold than he had been aware. When he awoke at a positively disrespectful hour, the blankets were disturbed next to him, but Cas wasnât in the bed. Which was weird because Cas usually had to be pried from bed with a tire-iron.
Already awake, Cas had showered and donned his hotel-issued bathrobe emblazoned with an emblem of a jaguar. He was uncharacteristically quiet as they shared breakfast, chatting sparsely about the details they already knew about the case. Dean didnât mind the morningâs appointment to give their day shape; staying alone in a romantic cabana with Cas was unsettling.
Now Dean was debating which was weirder; staying cooped up with Cas playing boyfriends in a beachside cabana, or getting a romantic couples massage from Kelsi and Brian, their massage therapists.
âRight this way,â said Kelsi, opening the door for them. She had blonde hair and what he pegged as an Australian accent. Belize was a popular destination for ex-pats looking for a Caribbean lifestyle. Dean gave Cas a ânot badâ appraising look as they got a look at the posh interior. Natural wood and glowing, low lights surrounded two massage tables covered in soft blankets. Some sort of hippie new age music was playing softly in the background. Dean scoffed externally, while internally admitting it was sort of relaxing. Whatever; heâd never admit in public.
Brian, a large man with dark skin and a local Garifuna accent, asked if they had an allergies, and when they replied in the negative, he fired up some kind of scent thingy that looked like a humidifier. âLavender oil with bergamot and peppermintâ he explained. Dean nodded knowledgeably to Brianâs face but as soon as the massage therapist turned around Dean tried to privately roll his eyes at Cas, who was standing in his fluffy robe, eyes closed, breathing deeply.
âSmells much better than Enochian ritual magicâ said Cas, nodding at the diffuser. Dean cringed. Here they go. When would Cas learn not to say shit like that in front of normies? Luckily, Brian and Kelsi seemed pretty unflappable.
âWeâre going to leave the room while you disrobe and get under the covers on the tables, face down. You can leave your robes on these hooks; slippers go over here,â said Kelsi calmly before leaving the room with Brian, pulling the door shut behind him.
Dean knew this was how ârealâ massages worked. (He had done some research online because his previous experiences on the road with storefront massage parlors didnât seem quite relevant to this, much classier, situation.) Nevertheless, getting to this part with Cas in the room felt strangely awkward and intimate. He fingered the demon knife in his pocket, wondering if they were in enough danger to keep it nearby. He settled for stashing it under the mattress of the massage table.
He quickly slipped off his robe, back to Cas, and crossed the room to the table in two quick strides, eyes on the floor the entire time. He practically dove under the covers, and settled onto the warm bed. He peeked up with one eye to see Castiel was already arranging his covers over himself as well. Dean was definitely not disappointed he didnât get a glimpse of Cas without his robe. Nope. Definitely what he was feeling was relief.
Dean shook his head to himself in exasperation. Way to keep it cool, Dean. He settled his face into the weird circular pillow, staring down at the floor. A few seconds later a knock came at the door. âCome in,â called Cas, seemingly more at ease than Dean. Well, Cas doesnât get as self-conscious as the rest of us wretched humans, Dean thought, goodie for him. Just a normal day on the job, being a hunter, right? Pretending to be a strained couple getting some much-needed relaxation by getting their nude bodies rubbed down by a couple of strangers. Perfectly normal. For one hysterical moment, Dean wondered who in their right mind had originally conceived of the âCouples Massage.â If he ever met them, they would have Words, Dean thought.
His discomfort quickly abated as soon as the massage began. Brian and Kelsi began a well-practiced professional routine of working detachedly on Dean and Casâ muscles, and pretty soon Dean forgot all about Cas and just focused on the sensation of release in his tight back and shoulder muscles. Brian put his considerable bulk into ironing out and smoothing knots Dean hadnât even realized he had, probably from too many miles in the Impala, nights on lumpy motel mattresses, and fights with supernatural baddies. Dean felt his shoulders descend away from their tightly-held position near his ears, melting down his spine. He couldnât remember the last time he felt this relaxed.
His relaxation was abruptly cut short by a noise startling Dean out of his reverie. A deep groan emitted from the table next to his, and Dean raised his head, alarmed. Castiel lay on the table directly to Deanâs right, and Dean could see Casâ back, uncovered to the gentle rise below his lower back, gleaming slightly in the low light with the oil Kelsi was using to work her thumbs into the pads of muscle just above Casâ ass. âMmmmmm, that feels AMAZING, Kelsi!â Cas rumbled into his face pillow. Dean felt all the blood in his body competing for first place in the race to his dick. He had maybe, once or twice, fantasized about what Castiel might sound like in the throes of pleasure. Here was his sneak peek and it. . .did not disappoint.
âIs everything okay?â Brian interrupted. Dean jerked back to awareness of his slack jaw (he hadnât realized his mouth was open), his tense upper back holding himself up to look at the next table. Dean shook his head. âYeah, sorry,â and laid back down as Brian resumed his ministrations.
Dean closed his eyes as Castiel continued his very vocal response to Kelsiâs massage. The situation was getting quickly out of hand for Dean, who had always found Casâ rumbly growl appealing. The problem was, not only was Cas moaning completely un-self-consciously in a way that could only be construed as pleasurable, he was. . .surprisingly verbal. Cas was not shy about using his big boy words to tell Kelsi exactly what he did and didnât like, and how much he liked it. âRight there, Kelsi.â âJust a bit harder, please.â âThatâs perfect, oh yeah.â All completely innocently, of course. Dean was the one perving on the talk, imagining Cas giving him that kind of direction and detailed feedback in response to Deanâs touch. It was hot as hell, and Dean shifted to relieve the pressure on his now uncomfortable groin. Before things went too far south, his overactive imagination was interrupted by Kelsi.
âIf you take the partner yoga massage class, Cas carries a lot of tension in his hands and feet. Heâs extremely sensitive there, and on his neck and jaw.â Â Dean turned his head to see her demonstrating a stroke along one of Casâ bare feet, eliciting a moan closer to a cry from Cas as his entire body shuddered on the table. Cas is so fucking sensitive, thought Dean. He quickly dropped his face down through the pillow hole again, face burning, mouth dry. âYepâ he said, âThanks for the tip.â
Brian, apparently not to be outdone, chimed in âAnd Cas, that class would really help Dean. He carries a ton of tension in his back and shoulders, all the way to his lower back. Deanâs eyes flew open as Brian scooched the sheet all the way down to the absolute lower limits of his modesty. Using a strong forearm and elbow, Brian made an ironing motion all the way up and down one side of Deanâs body. Now it was Deanâs turn to utter an involuntary cry of pleasure. âWhat did you say it was you did again?â Brian asked.
âLaw enforcementâ Dean said gruffly.
âI can tell. You feel like soldiers and firefighters Iâve worked on in the past,â replied Brian. âStrong but not as flexible or balanced as my athletes. You should take the partner yoga massage class with Cas, have him help you stretch it out.â Dean rolled his eyes with the privacy of the face pillow. Â
âThat sounds nice, Brian, thank you for the recommendation,â Cas managed to interject, politely, between his groans. Dean heard Kelsi tell Cas to turn over and move down on the massage table while she held the blanket to shield his privacy, so Dean knew what was coming when Brian asked him to do the same. The only problem was Little Dean. He knew if he flipped over at this time, he would be pitching a tent too obvious and embarrassing for the poor professionals just trying to do their jobs. Dean heard himself tell Brian, âYou know, my back still hurts. Could you work a little longer there?â
Lying face up seemed to elicit fewer vocalizations from Cas, and between that thankful respite and mentally cataloguing every gross monster Dean had ever faced, he was soon ready to flip over, and told Brian so. The massage therapist situated Dean so that his arms were on top of the sheet and stood above Deanâs head. Brian massaged Deanâs scalp and head, face, and neck, until Dean felt himself floating softly on a cloud of nonsexual physical pleasure.
Dean so rarely had anyone touch him. Heâd never admit it, but that was one thing he never got enough of-growing up-or now, for that matter. He got the shit beat out of him on the regular, at first by his dad, and then by monsters and assholes. That served as a nice counterpoint to the sex he regularly sought ought in his younger, more reckless years; anonymous encounters with women (and yeah, sometimes men) who would fill his need for physical intensity and pleasure without the demands of intimacy. Now, the only regular tactile human contact he had was gruff, brotherly hugs with Sam, and the too-few, too-short, too-little shoulder grasps from Cas.
With that thought, a pang of longing rose up from somewhere around Deanâs belly, and with practiced discipline, Dean shoved it back down. Brian was now working smoothly and deeply over the muscles of Deanâs chest. Dean breathed down the longing, but the release of the muscles seemed to bring it back up.
Brian administered one particularly deep stroke and Dean felt tears well up in his eyes. Not from pain. At least, not from physical pain. Brian didnât notice and kept working on Deanâs chest, opening it up while Dean struggled against him to emotionally shut it back down, this longing he worked so hard every day to keep tied up and locked up tight and tamed and dulled and fuck-Dean felt like his heart was actually breaking. The longing need was going to escape and it was going to be a hell of a lot more embarrassing than a stupid erection. Dean finally gasped and let a small noise escape; those less charitable to his ego might have described it as a sob.
Brian stopped abruptly. âAre you ok?â he asked in a low tone. Dean nodded, embarrassed, keeping his eyes squeezed shut so the stupid betraying fuckers wouldnât start making tears, as they seemed so wont to do. He was holding his breath to squeeze the chest longing-need-lonely feeling back in. Brian did not move to touch him.
âDean?â came Casâ voice from the next table, intense. âWhatâs wrong?â Dean peeked over long enough to see Casâ scrutinizing, worried face. For some reason that made it worse, and Dean breathed shallowly, trying to get control over his emotions.
âWould you like me to continue?â Dean shook his head no and Brian withdrew respectfully, as Dean choked back another sob, breathing shakily.
âDean!â Cas flew off his table, leaving a startled Kelsi in his wake, clutching the sheet around his waist as he did so and was at Deanâs side in a second. âWhatâs wrong with him?â Cas demanded, whirling on Brian. âWhat did you do to him?â Cas throat and jaw was clenched again, no doubt the cause of the âtensionâ Kelsi had noted.
Brian lifted his hands placatingly. âItâs completely normalâ he pleaded. âWorking the muscles often releases pent-up emotions, stress, fear, pain, even trauma. Itâs healthy and good to physically let go.â Cas put one hand on Deanâs shoulder. The shoulder. Cas was touching him. Another breath in, and out, and squeeze the chest down, shove the longing down, and Dean was still trying to hold it together, now more for Casâ sake than his own. Push it away. As far away as he could get it. Time to flip that switch he so often did whenever fear or sadness threatened him. Anger was always easier than hurt, for Dean.
âIâm fine, Cas, just leave me alone,â Dean snarled, pushing Casâ hand away, ignoring Casâ drawn brows, pursed lips.
Cas looked at Brian, head tilted as he always did when trying to understand human things. âWhy did it happen now, instead of when the massage started?â
Brian looked baffled. âI have no idea. Maybe he finally felt safe enough to let go of those emotions, or maybe the massage released a blockage in the heart chakra.â
Dean barked âI donât have a blockage in my heart-Chaka-Khans! Just leave me alone,â he spat out, waving his hands for emphasis. Brian beat a hasty retreat, and honestly, who wouldnât when confronted with peak angry Dean? Kelsi looked at Cas with an apologetic, sad smile, then left the room.
Dean sat up, mindful to keep his sheet tucked around his hips. Cas stood, as per his usual, in Deanâs personal space, but made no move to touch Dean. Dean looked up to meet Casâ blue eyes, and saw the concern there. Dean opened his mouth to quip and make that look go away on Casâ face, but the words got caught and he just ended up taking a breath and then closing his mouth, looking more like a goldfish than his âcoolâ self-image. Cas didnât break eye contact but every so slowly, as if Dean was a horse Cas was afraid to spook, placed his hand gently on Deanâs back and began rubbing counter-clockwise circles there.
Cas had beat his ass into a brick wall. Cas had cupped his jaw and healed him. Cas had gripped his shoulder. Cas had hugged him firmly like a brother. Cas had clasped his arms around Dean and wrestled the demon out of him. But Cas had never, ever touched him anything close to this; caring and gentle.
The cracks in the dam became a hole, and Deanâs sobs shattered the peaceful whale noises, spa-music groove in the massage room. Dean clung to Casâ chest like a baby, but Cas just calmly held him. âItâs okay, Deanâ said Casâ voice in Deanâs hair. âIâve got you.â
Time slowed, and with it, Deanâs breathing slowed down. Whatever stupid chakra opening had run its course and he felt strangely better, lighter, freer, if a little spent. Now he was aware of the rise and fall of Casâ bare chest under his cheek, Casâ large hand on Deanâs back, Casâ barely draped lower body underneath Casâ taut muscles. Dean breathed evenly again, this time to steel himself to pull away and compose himself. He gave Casâ shoulder a pat that was more push, trying to regain the âbuddyâ equilibrium they had established over the past decade. Kind of hard in these circumstances, but Dean was no stranger to denial. âThanks Cas. Iâm good now.â
Cas let his hand drift awkwardly in the air where it had been on Deanâs back seconds before. Casâ expression was unreadable. âDo you think this has something to do with the case?â He asked abruptly, dropping his hand to his side to pull up his sheet more securely over his hip bone.
âNah, I think Iâm just garden variety cuckoo. Remind me to NEVER get a massage again,â Dean joked, pointedly *not* looking as Cas crossed the room and dropped his sheet, pulling on his robe, his back to Dean.
âBoth Brian and Kelsi pushed that partner yoga massage class pretty hard. I think we should follow it up.â said Cas, nonchalantly. âAs a leadâ he added after a momentâs silence. Cas tossed Dean his robe, and Dean pulled it on while gratefully covered by his sheet. Dean nodded, acknowledging both Casâ idea, and the robe assist.
âIâll be in the roomâ said Cas, whirling on his heel and leaving almost as quickly as he had with his angel mojo back in the day.
Dean felt sad in a way that had nothing to do with his massage meltdown. He felt like there was something he wasnât understanding with Castiel. He had to be more careful to keep thing, you know, normal. His emotions were clearly getting in the way here. Well, of wherever âhereâ was. The location of which, Dean wasnât sure. He needed a map, because the road so far had been pretty damn twisty. Whatâs the Hallmark card category, Dean wondered, for a celestial being, savior, ally, former enemy, friend, family member who you may or may not want to bang and also be in love with? Â
âFuck my life.â Dean dropped his head into his hands, doing a perfect facepalm. The poor guy didnât ask to be fixated on by Dean. Jokes about Casâ obvious loyal devotion to Dean aside, Dean had no clue what, if anything, Cas thought about the subject. Dean had given Cas a million openings, and heâd never taken one. Then again, neither had Dean.
He figured, if it hadnât happened by now, there probably was a reason, and that reason was either Cas didnât feel the same way about Dean OR Cas just wasnât capable of feeling that way about anybody, period. As he once said to Kevin, angels just didnât have the equipment, so to speak. One thing was clear: this case was going to make it ten times as hard as normal for Dean to stow his crap and do the job. He stood up, set his shoulders tensely again, and headed back to the room.
