Date nights aren’t particularly frequent because of the constant hunts that Dean and Cas have to be on.
However, a few months into their relationship Dean and Cas find that they have free time on their hands, finally.
So here they are, sitting across each other, in an open air restaurant. The moonlight sets the romantic atmosphere and they’re surrounded by couples mostly. A vase with a single sunflower, strangely, sits in the middle of the table. It is a fancy restaurant, so both are dressed in tuxedos (that double up as their FBI suits). Each thinks that the other looks absolutely breathtaking.
“I can’t believe we’re actually out on a proper date,” Dean notes, flipping through the menu.
Cas nods as he straightens his tie. “We haven’t actually been on one since we er.. got together.”
“I know. We were missing out on good stuff.. I mean this is real nice, man.”
“It is. I love this restaurant. You have an excellent taste, Dean.”
Dean winks at Cas and moves to remove the glasses he’s wearing that help him read.
“Leave them on?” asks Cas, softly.
Dean narrows his eyes at Cas and then smirks at him. “You like them, huh?”
Cas blushes and clears his throat as a waiter approaches their table.
Dean quickly lists their order and the waiter smiles at them before leaving them alone again.
“You were saying?” Dean asks, propping his head on his hand.
Cas smiles and looks away. “Okay fine. They look good on you. Sort of.. hot? I don’t know.”
“Interesting. I should wear these often, then?”
“Sure. You explain if Sam asks, though,” Cas teases as Dean rolls his eyes.
The wine and food arrive just then and both dive right into it, the beautiful spread before them making them hungry.
“I always thought that burgers were my thing”- Dean says in between bites, “But heck this is good.”
He takes another bite and closes his eyes, savouring the taste.
“It isn’t as wonderful as watching you enjoy it though,” Cas says and Dean looks at him, a grin spreading on this face.
“You’re in a good mood tonight, aren’t you?”
“Can’t say I’m not,” Cas grins and takes a sip of the rich red wine.
He raises his glass towards Dean, then. “To us?,“ he offers.
To be honest, I had a little bit of trouble coming up with a plot but I think it turned out pretty good! (also on ao3!)
"So what's our cover?" Dean asked before stuffing his face with a heaping forkful of fluffy, golden pancakes slathered in butter and drowned in syrup. Vermont maple syrup really was the best.
"Well FBI's out," Sam replied as he raised his mug to his lips, taking a sip of coffee to wash down a bite of his veggie omelet. Leave it to Sam to order some vegetarian crap in a place that offered mountains of pancakes and decadent French toast platters.
Dean nodded as he chewed, conceding Sam's point with a tip of his head. They had already seen a few actual feds poking around town and the last thing they needed was to get arrested for impersonating federal agents.
Especially since there were still arrest warrants out on them in several states and Dean was still officially dead as far as the U.S. government was concerned. He'd have to ask Cas about that when he got back to the Bunker, see if there was anything he could do with his mojo.
After a few more bites of his boring, probably tasteless breakfast, Sam swallowed and announced, "I'm thinking we should just pretend to be a couple. That'll actually get us into the resort."
He took another sip of coffee after speaking, completely nonplussed. Dean, on the other hand, nearly choked on his pancakes.
Dropping his fork with a loud, metallic clatter, he thumped his fist against his chest. Coughing and hacking, desperately trying to breathe, he gawked at Sam, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.
Still coughing, he reached for his own cup of coffee, downing some to help him wash down the pancakes and disbelief. Clearing his throat, he managed to wheeze out, "Uh... You know we're brothers, right? And I don't care what Chuck's groupies think, that actually matters."
"What?" Sam asked, his face scrunching up in blatant confusion. Dean didn't think that Sam had any right to look so incredulous when he was the one that had just suggested they play boyfriends.
Not that his suggestion was completely out of place.
They were in Grafton, a small town that was more of a village than anything else, nestled in the mountains of southern Vermont. It was full of beautiful scenery, bed and breakfasts, and something that was killing people at a local couple's resort.
The first victim had been found a few weeks ago. A woman from Boston who had been honeymooning with her new husband.
Her body had been discovered in the back garden of the resort amongst the ornamental cherry blossom trees. There had been signs of a struggle, broken fingernails and a pair of shoes with the high heels snapped off, but no conclusive manner of death.
The medical examiner had ruled the death as undetermined, making a note about a potential heart attack. But an otherwise healthy woman in her late twenties having a sudden heart attack with no prior history of any cardiac issues was pretty suspicious.
The second and third victims had been found shortly thereafter. A week after that, the other three victims had been found.
The cause of death was still unknown. There were no strangulation marks or gunshot wounds. No scratches or stabs or bashed in skulls. Just several people dead, leaving their significant others behind to grieve.
Dean probably would have written it up to some everyday serial killer —which just went to show how screwed up his life was that a serial killer was something banal —had it not been for the strange power outages in the area. Apparently, there had been a blackout every time someone had been killed.
After learning that little tidbit of information, Dean had officially been convinced that they were dealing with something much more supernatural than a regular old serial killer. On the long, nearly twenty four hour drive from Kansas to Vermont, they had debated various theories.
Sam guessed that it was another Qareen, like the one they had dealt with while the Darkness was still running amok. He based his theory on the possibility of the creature luring its victims out into the garden by appearing as their loved ones.
Dean disagreed, pointing out that the last Qareen they had encountered had brutally slaughtered its victims, ripping their hearts out, not killing them without leaving a mark. His money was on a starving, overzealous shtriga feeding off people's life forces until they were dead.
Cas had remained quiet throughout the brothers' bickering, occasionally piping up to point out why it couldn't be a siren or a demon. He had spent most of the unbearably long drive gazing out the window at the passing scenery, humming under his breath along to Led Zeppelin.
He hadn't shared any theories of his own but Dean was sure that he had a few bouncing around his skull.
So, after two days of constant traveling and one night spent in some crappy motel in Indiana, they finally found themselves in a homey diner just outside of Grafton where the pancakes were fluffy, the syrup was thick, and Sam posed potentially traumatizing suggestions for their cover.
Dean was still taken aback, trying to process what his younger brother had just said. He really hoped that he had somehow misheard Sam, even though he was pretty sure that he hadn't.
He seriously needed a vacation. On a beach. With his toes buried in the sand, a cold bottle of El Sol in his hand as he basked in the sunshine and the sound of waves crashing.
He didn't even care if there were screaming kids and seagulls squawking their heads off begging for food. He just needed a vacation from his crazy life and gross, incestuous covers.
Sam must have been watching too much Game of Thrones. All that Cersei and Jaime bullshit must have rubbed off on him.
Ugh. Dean should have known better than to subscribe to HBO.
Just as Dean shivered, disgusted by Sam's suggestion, realization gradually dawned on Sam's face. Frantically shaking his head, he hurried to amend, "Dude, no. No. That's not what I meant."
"Then what the hell did you mean?" Dean asked, sagging back against the plush leather cushions of the booth. He was infinitely relieved, letting out a heavy sigh.
He may have helped save the world several times over but there were just some things he couldn't deal with. Pretending to be in a romantic relationship with his brother was one of them.
Shaking off those thoughts, he focused back on Sam who looked just about as horrified as Dean felt. Still shaking his head, whipping his long hair around, he clarified, "By we I meant me and Cas. We can go undercover as a couple. I figure you ca—"
"Whoa, whoa," Dean interrupted, straightening back up as he raised his hand to cut Sam off. Glancing between Sam and Cas, who was ignoring his coffee in favor of working his way through a crossword puzzle in the local newspaper, he demanded, "You and Cas? Undercover? As a couple?"
"Uh, yeah, Dean," Sam answered, exasperation bleeding into his voice. He set his own fork down with a beleaguered sigh, looking at Dean with one of his patented bitchfaces as he sniped, "It's not exactly rocket science."
"No, I get it, I just..." Dean trailed off, shifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with another sigh of his own. Dropping his hand, he flicked his eyes over to Cas who was still absorbed in his puzzle. "Is Cas cool with this?"
"I have no objections if that's what you're asking," Cas responded primly, not bothering to look up at Dean. He was too busy filling in another answer, mumbling under his breath, "Five letter word for a relationship... Union."
More like fraud, Dean thought, narrowing his eyes at the angel who was much too complacent for his taste. Fixing his skeptical gaze on Cas, he questioned, "No objections? None?"
"Of course not," Cas replied easily, crossing out another clue in the across column. He was already more than halfway done, too engrossed to even bother touching his cup of coffee or the plate of blueberry French toast.
Not that he really needed to eat. Because of the whole angel thing.
"So you're just cool with pretending to be Sam's boyfriend?" Dean pressed, keeping his voice low to avoid anyone overhearing what was one of the weirdest conversations in entire life. And he'd had conversations with Death and God Himself, to name just a few.
"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't be," Cas answered, sparing a glance at Dean. Lowering his gaze again, he filled in another crossword answer.
Dean couldn't understand why Cas wasn't freaking out about the whole thing, why Sam wasn't. They should be working their asses off to come up with another cover, another plan that didn't include them playing house at a couples' resort.
"You're just gonna, what, act like some happy couple on vacation?" Dean squeaked, glancing between Cas and Sam who was in the middle of rolling his.
"Yes, Dean," Sam sighed, exasperation clinging to every syllable. With another heavy sigh, he continued, "We'll check in as a couple, act all lovey dovey for a few days, and gank whatever's killing these people."
"The crocotta," Cas murmured, drawing Sam's attention. The younger Winchester broke out in a wide grin, nodding his head in understanding.
"Whatever it is, you're just gonna share a room? A bed?" Dean blurted, waving his hand around aimlessly. It was Cas' turn to roll his eyes.
"Yes," Cas confirmed with a firm nod. Dean's jaw nearly dropped at the angel's unabashed nonchalance but then Cas continued, pointing out, "I don't require sleep so there will be no conflict."
"It's not really a big deal," Sam insisted as he curled his arm around Cas' shoulders and tugged him closer. The gesture was so casual, so normal, that it briefly made Dean wonder if they had done it before.
Especially when Cas instantly relaxed into it, shifting close enough to actually lay his head on Sam's shoulder. It was enough to make Dean want to throw up.
As bad as the potential of playing newlyweds with his brother, watching Sam and Cas play happy couple was even worse. Mostly because Dean had been in love with the angel for years.
"I agree with Sam," Cas tacked on, reaching for his cup of coffee, only to find that it was empty. Frowning down at the mug, he continued, "It's the easiest way to gain access to the resort. And if my suspicions are correct, the crocotta will target one of us within the first few days."
Dean opened his mouth to say something but found himself speechless. What was there to say?
Cas made several good points. He and Sam going undercover together was the best way for them to solve the case, as much as it killed him to admit it.
Before he could tell them as much, having every intention of keeping his messy feelings out of it, their waitress flounced by. Sam waved his hand to get her attention, flashing her a bright grin.
"Could my boyfriend get some more coffee, please?" He asked innocently, gesturing at Cas' empty mug. He was the picture of an attentive, dutiful boyfriend with his arm around Cas and a guileless smile on his face.
"Oh, of course!" She replied cheerfully, beaming back at him. Throughout their entire meal, she had been making eyes at Sam but her demeanor was suddenly different as she gushed, "You two make such a cute couple, by the way. How long have you been together?"
"We've known each other for almost eight years," Cas explained, setting down his mug so the waitress could pour him some more coffee. Glancing back at Sam with an amused grin, he added, "But we've only been romantically involved for a short time."
The waitress just smiled even brighter before moving on to another table, offering an elderly couple some coffee. Sam and Cas shared a conspiratorial laugh that sent Dean over the edge.
"Yeah, no," he announced, shaking his head. Sam and Cas turned their heads to frown at him in confusion. He pointed at them, glancing between them as he growled, "This? Not happening. I'll be Cas' fake boyfriend, you can stake out the rest of town or whatever."
He punctuated his statement by reaching over to take Cas' hand in his own. He intertwined their fingers as he raised a brow at Sam, silently challenging him to argue.
But Sam just dropped his arm from around Cas' shoulders, raising his palms in surrender. He turned back to his omelet, smirking to himself.
Who knew all it would take for Dean to finally act on his feelings for Cas was to suggest a fake dating cover? He should've suggested it years ago.
Then again, as he watched the way Dean's cheeks flushed deep red while he ran his thumb over Cas' knuckles, Sam figured his timing was perfect.
Okie dokie, so this is officially the first Destiel fic I’ve ever finished! Woo! It got a little longer than I planned and the ending is a little rushed but I hope you like it anyway! (also on ao3!)
Dean was cool, okay? The coolest, in fact.
He drove the coolest car in the world. His baby was sleek and sexy and powerful, buttery soft leather bench seats perfect for long drives or sleeping on when no local hotels had any vacancies. And of course, the backseat was perfect for a different kind of late night activity.
He listened to the coolest music, the Holy Grail that was classic rock. He didn't care what Claire said, Led Zeppelin and Bob Seger would forever be cooler than what kids these days tried to pass off as music. Guitars and soul-filled lyrics would always beat out techno music and whatever the hell dubstep is.
He had one of the coolest, and most ridiculously dangerous, jobs on the face of the earth, hunting supernatural creatures only rivaled by pornstar as far as awesome jobs went. If his life hadn't gotten so fucked up when he was so young, he totally would have been a pornstar. Why? Because he's cool.
He lived in the coolest place in Kansas, if not the entire United States itself, in a freaking super secret underground bunker. That said it all really especially since the Bunker was indeed super secret.
He was damn good-looking if he did say so himself, what with his all-American, Midwestern good looks and gorgeous smile that could charm the pants off of virtually anyone. According to the laws of the universe, and high school for that matter, his physical attractiveness definitely made him cool.
He had survived forty years worth of torture in Hell and come back with a neat handprint on his arm as a souvenir. He had done a stint in Purgatory and come out smelling like a rose. He had fought demons and angels and Knights of Hell and pagan gods and the Darkness and lived to tell the tale. Only someone insanely cool could do that.
And to top it all off, like a scoop of vanilla ice cream on a nice piece of apple pie, he was dating a certified, wing-possessing, angel blade carrying angel of the freaking Lord, whom he had met. It didn't get much cooler than that.
So, the point is that Dean was cool. The coolest. Cool and aloof and brooding. Like a Batman type.
Definitely not the type that turned into a pathetic, blushing, bumbling nerd over his aforementioned dorky little angel boyfriend. Nope, not all. Except that he was. He totally, totally was.
He and Cas had been dating for months — four months, two weeks, and three days to be exact, not that Dean was counting or marking it off on his calendar because that would be super uncool — and he still found himself blushing like an idiot over the most innocent things.
Innocent things like whenever Cas leaned over while they were cooking dinner together to press a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek. Or when he would reach over to tangle his and Dean's fingers together for no reason other than he wanted to hold hands.
Or when Cas would snuggle with him in the front seat of the Impala on days when Sam generously relinquished shotgun, laying his head on Dean's shoulder as they drove home after a hunt. Or when Cas would just stare at him, from across the kitchen table in the Bunker or a wobbly table at a hole in the wall diner, like Dean was the most precious, incredible thing he had ever seen.
Or when Cas would wander into the kitchen in the morning, grumpy from a lack of caffeine with his hair sticking up in all directions, and wrap his arms around Dean's waist from behind, pressing his cheek against Dean's back and complaining about how early it was. Or when Cas would encourage Dean to lay down on the couch with his head in the angel's lap, it always leading to them watching Netflix while Cas ran his fingers through Dean's hair.
Basically whenever Cas did anything remotely affection. Which was pretty often, Dean's embarrassing little habit an almost daily occurrence much to the amusement of Sam.
He thought the whole thing was freaking hilarious. Cas making Dean blush never failed to make Sam erupt into a fit of laughter, almost hysterical as he pointed at Dean's flushed face, making incoherent jokes about Dean resembling a tomato.
He was also rather fond of snapping pictures on his phone. Pictures that he usually sent to Charlie, Claire, Garth, Jody, and now Eileen whom he had been Skyping with regularly.
The first time Sam had taken a picture of Dean's blushing face, Cas and Dean had been curled up on the couch, watching some action movie they had found on Netflix. In the middle of some ridiculous action sequence with a gratuitous amount of obviously fake blood and slow motion, Cas had tipped his head to the side to lay a quick kiss on Dean's jaw.
Sam who had been sitting in a nearby armchair, tapping away on his laptop, had seized the opportunity and taken a quick picture of Dean's bright pink cheeks. When Dean had realized what Sam had done, he had hopped off the couch and launched himself at his younger brother who fled down the hall, his laughter echoing through the Bunker.
Dean still owed Sam a good kick in the ass for all of the pictures he had taken of him blushing. Mostly because it was so freaking embarrassing.
He was almost forty, as both loathe and proud as he was to admit it, he shouldn't be blushing like some ten year old girl every time his boyfriend kissed him. Especially since Cas never blushed. Never.
Dean had tried getting his angel to blush by giving him a taste of his own medicine but it never worked.
He had tried sneaking up behind Cas and twirling him around to peck him on the cheek but it hadn't worked. Cas had just huffed a laugh and smiled up at him, big and bright and breathtaking, greeting Dean with his signature, "Hello, Dean."
He had tried doing sappy, romantic things like spontaneously pulling Cas into an impromptu dance when they were supposed to be doing the dishes. After swaying around with Cas in his arms, their fingers intertwined as they danced, Dean had even dipped Cas, kissing the tip of his nose. But still no dice.
He had even tried performing over the top romantic gestures like bringing Cas breakfast in bed along with a bouquet of roses, lilies, and daisies that he had picked in the fields around the Bunker. Cas had been delighted, tugging Dean into an overjoyed kiss, but he hadn't blushed.
Dean had tried everything he could think of. He even asked Charlie for advice, then Sam when Charlie's plan fell through.
But Cas never blushed, no matter what Dean did. It would have been infuriating if Dean didn't love Cas so much.
And he did. So much so that it was almost embarrassing in itself, almost enough to make Dean blush without any action on Cas' part.
Even though none of his past attempts at making Cas had failed miserably, Dean was far from giving up. He was no quitter, damn it. He would make Cas blush, he just needed a new plan.
A burst pipe in the wall that flooded Cas' room provided the perfect opportunity. And yes, he realized that taking advantage of his boyfriend's misfortune was definitely a dick move, but he was a man on a mission.
Cas had stomped into the kitchen hours earlier than he usually did, typically dead to the world until late morning. He was in a pair of sopping wet sweatpants, a downright murderous expression on his face as he reported that a pipe had burst.
Luckily, his room stopped flooding after a while but his mattress was completely unsalvageable, the pipe bursting just above it and thoroughly soaking the bed and in the process, Cas. Soaking wet, his hair plastered to his forehead, he had looked like a grumpy cat that someone had tossed in the bathtub.
Dean hadn't been able to hold back his laughter, doubling over as Cas pouted about his ruined mattress. That had earned him a rather pissed off glare from Cas who had crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently in the puddle of water pooling on the floor around him.
Fortunately, Dean redeemed himself by offering to run Cas a hot shower and grab him some clothes, Cas' face lighting up at the thought. As Cas warmed back up in the hot shower, Dean braved the flood in his room to grab the angel a change of clothes, picking out a plain t-shirt, a comfy looking flannel that used to belong to Sam, and a pair of jeans they had picked up for him at the nearest Walmart.
His consideration earned him a grateful kiss on the couch when Cas emerged from the bathroom in the clothes Dean had picked out for him, looking much happier than earlier. As he finished mopping up the puddle in the kitchen, Sam told Cas that he could stay in one of the other guest rooms until they got his room fixed up which would be a few days thanks to the thunderstorm raging outside.
But Dean had vetoed that idea immediately. Instead, he invited Cas to stay with him for the time being, curling his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders as he made the offer.
Cas had squinted at him as he asked if Dean was sure, his head cocked to the side like a curious puppy. Dean had assured him that he was sure, leaning over to kiss Cas on the forehead, ruffling his damp hair until it stuck up in all different directions.
The day had passed without any further incident, most of their time spent looking for cases online to no avail. Things had definitely tapered off after the Darkness had been placated and God had reopened Heaven to the angels, returning their home and their wings.
They had Skyped with Claire for a bit, all three of them awkwardly cramming into frame as they talked about the last few weeks. Claire told them about what classes she had picked for her next semester and complained about midterms, tacking on that she and Alex were getting along much better now.
After talking to Jody for a while, the sheriff teasing Dean about what a cute couple he and Cas made until he ended up flushing pink, they decided to call it a day. Over a cozy dinner of homemade chili, they watched the season premiere of Game of Thrones, squished together on the couch with Cas' head on Dean's shoulder.
Still hungry, Dean had rustled up some ice cream from the freezer, a decadent rocky road that called to him like a siren. Forgoing bowls, he simply grabbed three spoons and carried the carton back to the couch where they all helped themselves to the dessert.
And yes, Dean may have blushed when Cas took his first taste and let out a delighted, breathy little sigh that Dean was definitely going to think about later when he was alone. But it wasn't his fault, Cas was just that good at making him blush.
Some time after they had finished off the ice cream, Dean decided to retire for the evening, standing up and stretching as he announced how tired he was. He had leaned down to peck Cas on the cheek, telling him to come to his room whenever he was ready, before padding down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower.
Then, he waited for Cas.
Sprawled out on his back on his bed, he stretched out his legs, wiggling his toes and shifting around to get more comfortable. After his shower he had thrown on a black t-shirt and some black boxer briefs and plopped down on his luxurious memory foam mattress, leaving room for Cas to slip into bed beside him, perfectly content with just drifting off to sleep.
But of course, now that he was freshly showered and dressed for bed, the last thing he wanted to do was actually go to sleep, suddenly feeling wide awake. Grumbling about how freaking typical that was, he shimmied around again, grabbing his TV remote to do some intense channel surfing.
He had just settled on a rerun of Family Feud with the original host when a tentative knock came at his bedroom door. A smile stretched across his face as he called, "Come in!"
The door opened a few inches to reveal an almost timid looking Cas, still in the clothes Dean had grabbed him earlier, a small smile on his face. Taking a few steps into Dean's room, he closed the door behind him and glanced around a bit, grinning at the pictures Dean had on his nightstand, proudly displayed in brand new frames.
Cas hesitated by the door for a little longer before announcing, "I assume I'll be sleeping on the couch."
He pointed at the green couch by the door as he said it, drawing Dean's attention to the sofa. Snapping his eyes back up to meet Cas' he argued, "What? No. Dude, you're sleeping in the bed with me."
"Oh," Cas murmured simply, his gaze shifting over to the spot on the bed Dean had left for him. A small smile lifted the corner of his lips when Dean patted the spot beside his hip, flashing Cas his most charming grin.
Why Cas thought he was going to be relegated to the couch all night was a mystery to him. He paused, smile freezing on his face, as something occurred to him. Sitting up, he amended "Uh, I mean, y'know... Unless you're more comfortable with that. I can take the couch if you want so you can have the bed."
Fortunately, Cas cut him off before he ended up rambling any more than he already had. With an amused little smile, he informed Dean, "I'd rather share the bed with you."
"Oh," Dean said intelligently. "Uh, good. So, you gonna get changed? Trust me, jeans ain't the most comfortable thing to sleep in."
Cas blinked and looked down at himself, as though he had completely forgotten about what he was wearing. Glancing back up at Dean, he admitted, "I don't have any other clothes with me—" he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the door "—I can go grab some."
"Nah, don't bother," Dean countered. Waving his hand at his dresser, he suggested, "Just borrow some of mine, babe."
Cas sent him a grateful and walked over to the dresser, pulling out drawers and rifling around for something to wear. As Cas perused through Dean's wardrobe, Dean laid back down, punching his pillow a few times before settling back with a sigh.
As another family guessed what the survey said on screen, Dean's gaze strayed over to Cas as he shrugged out of the hand-me-down flannel and promptly tugged off his t-shirt. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of his shirtless boyfriend, running over the curve of Cas' shoulder and the way the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he balled up his clothes and tossed them in Dean's laundry hamper.
He nearly swallowed his tongue, not that he would ever admit it, because Cas was seriously hot. Sure, he had always been attracted to Cas, always wondering what the dork looked like under his trench coat but this blew all of his expectations out of the water.
Cas may not have super defined abs or bulging biceps but he was all muscle, his arms sinewy and strong looking, his stomach flat with a small trail of hair beneath his navel. Cas' skin looked soft to the touch, unmarred by any human faults like scars, the tattoo he had once had above his hip gone thanks to the time God had healed him.
He bet Cas would feel amazing in his arms, skin against skin as they held each other all through the night. And yes, he realized that was right out of a chick flick but he didn't care, too busy ogling his boyfriend as he tugged off his jeans.
He was wearing a pair of starchy white boxers, so boring that it was almost hot in itself. His thighs were thick with muscle, his calves wiry like a runner's, overall the sexiest pair of legs Dean had ever seen.
Cas was unbelievably gorgeous. So, being the cool and classy gentleman that he was, Dean stuck two fingers in his mouth and wolf whistled.
Cas paused, Dean's nearly threadbare AC/DC t-shirt in his hands, and looked over at Dean, his brow furrowed in confusion. Tilting his head to the side, he narrowed his eyes a fraction and guilelessly inquired, "Why are you whistling?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "It's a wolf whistle, Cas."
"Wolves cannot whistle," Cas stated with a solemn shake of his head, still frowning. "I suppose a howl is similar enough but it certainly isn't an actual whistle."
"It's just called a wolf whistle, Cas," Dean explained with another roll of his eyes. Smirking, he further elaborated, "Means you look good. Real good, babe."
He followed up his comment with a smirk and a wink. Then, he watched in pure, unadulterated delight as Cas ducked his head, looking shy.
And what was that? Was that a blush on Cas' cheeks?
Dean squinted, focusing on Cas' face to confirm that the flush on the angel's face was indeed a blush. He wanted to pump his fist in the air and let out a whoop of triumphant but he managed to restrain himself, the gears in his mind turning.
So, was it compliments that made Cas blush? Or maybe it was something else, something less innocent.
He remembered the way Cas had fidgeted all those years ago when Dean had practically interrogated him about his virginity, how he had nervously rubbed the back of his neck and avoided meeting Dean's eyes. He thought about the terrified, embarrassed look on his face when they had been approached by the ironically dubbed Chastity at the brothel.
More recently, he had bumbled his way through an awkward explanation of why he had been half naked when that reaper bitch April had stabbed him with his own angel blade. Dean had been glad to note that they hadn't actually gotten down to having sex, Cas deserving a better first time than with some asshole manipulating him. He had also noted the way Cas had been extremely embarrassed by the whole ordeal though at the time Dean had simply thought the newly human Cas had just been embarrassed that he had been tricked.
Added to the fact that they had been together for months yet had not progressed past a few particularly heated kisses, at the behest of Cas who usually ended things before they could even get to second base, he had enough evidence to surmise that Cas was embarrassed by sex.
Cas pulled on Dean's AC/DC t-shirt, keeping his head down as he tugged it on over his head, ruffling his hair. He paused as he picked up a pair of Dean's sweatpants, glancing over at Dean's own lack of pants before dropping the sweats back into the drawer.
He shrugged and rounded the bed to climb in next to Dean, their arms brushing as he did. A contented sigh slipped out of his mouth as he sunk into the memory foam, laying his head on Dean's extra pillow.
Dean tilted his head to the side to look over at Cas, not satisfied with the fleeting blush he had finally wrought. Which gave him an idea that was pretty ingenious if he said so himself.
"Hey, you tired, babe?" He asked first. Cas didn't necessarily need to sleep but he often did, apparently rather fond of taking naps. If Dean had a dollar for every time he found Cas dozing in the library he'd be rich.
"Not especially, no," Cas replied, scooting a few inches closer in order to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. "Sam decided to go to bed and I saw no point in watching TV alone. Not when I could be with you."
Dean hesitated for a moment as his face filled with heat that Cas' comment caused. His boyfriend was such a romantic sap, especially when he wasn't even trying.
Regaining his composure, Dean grabbed the remote to his DVD player, pulling up Netflix. As he searched through the titles, he told Cas, "There's a movie I think you might like. Not real long. You up for it?"
Cas just nodded, Dean feeling the movement against his shoulder, Cas' stubble rasping against the sleeve of Dean's t-shirt. Smiling to himself, Dean queued up the movie and laid back to wait.
It was some artsy movie, something about a guy finding himself in Paris through the art and the music and the food. He had only watched it because the summary had advertised the wrong movie, a supernatural thriller that actually sounded pretty cool.
He knew that Cas would like it, would enjoy the music and the in depth monologues about the meaning of life and the inner conflict of humanity. But that wasn't why he had chosen the movie. No, it was because of the scene about half an hour in.
It was a sex scene, specifically a gay sex scene featuring miles of moonlit skin and a beautiful instrumental piece of music playing in the background. As far as sex scenes went, it was pretty good, passionate and engaging without being pornographic or gratuitous.
It was actually kind of beautiful, two men who had been dancing around each other for the whole movie finally resolving the tension between them. And, yes, it was really hot. Turning his head to the side a bit, he told Cas as much.
"This part always gets me going," he announced plainly as though he was discussing the weather not the fact that he had popped a boner once or twice while watching the scene. Before Cas could take his words too literally and ask where he was going, Dean tacked on, "Y'know, makes me horny. Turned on. Aroused."
"I'm aware of what horny means," Cas mumbled, his voice quiet as he rolled over onto his side, raising a hand to rest on Dean's chest. His voice sounded a little strange, a bit strained. When Dean took a peek at Cas' face, he saw that it was bright pink.
Upping the ante, Dean curled his arm around Cas', letting his fingers drift down over Cas' arm, teasing at the fine hair on his forearm. He smirked proudly to himself when Cas shivered in his arms, the angel blinking in surprise at his own actions.
Pulling back a few inches, Cas raised himself up on his elbow, biting his perpetually chapped bottom lip as he peered at Dean's face. Sounding both curious and somewhat accusatory, Cas ventured, "Dean...?"
"Yeah, babe?" Dean answered, trying to bite back the cocky smile he felt tugging at the corner of his lips at the sight of Cas' still flushed face. But staring into Cas' critical eyes made him break and he ended up smiling with a choked laugh.
"I knew it," Cas grumbled, his forehead creasing as he frowned, his insanely pink lips jutting out in an adorably grumpy pout. He poked Dean in the chest as he accused, "You're making fun of me."
"What? No. No, no, no," Dean rushed to assure him, sitting up and cupping Cas' face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. Feeling like a jackass, he apologized, "I'm sorry, Cas. I just wanted to make you blush."
"Why?" Cas asked slowly, narrowing his eyes in a way that told Dean he better think long and hard about his answer. He didn't. Instead, he just winged it.
"Because you're always making me blush and I finally found a way to get you to blush," Dean explained in one big, hurried breath. "I just wanted to see you blush, Cas. I'm sorry."
Cas hummed thoughtfully before settling back down, tugging Dean down with him. With a casual sigh, he said, "We could keep watching. I believe this scene is getting me going, as well."
I just wanted to let you know that Longing was incredibly beautiful and I loved it. If you have a destiel tag list please add me to it!!
awaaaaaaaaaaaaa, THANK YOU <3 I’m so glad you liked it!!!!!!!!
ahhh, but actually I don’t tend to do the tag listy thing - I’m concerned that celestial mafia geese are watching me, and will use the list of precious names against me. either that, or I’m just a bit crap at organising, and am just merrily making my way through posting on tumblr without a big list to tag...
IT’S ONE OF THE TWO. i think it’s the geese.
I usually just tag a few close friends when I post! they have to endure terrible things to earn the dubious honour, like listen to my bad jokes. so, so many bad jokes. I try to make up for the jokes with nice fic that I hope they like sometimes. this is how I show love. :D but hey, if you are wanting to keep up to date with writing that I post, you could always track the tag “whelvenwings fic” - all my writing is tagged that way!! <3
