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Cas leans back slightly, but his hands don’t let go of Dean’s. "Sight,” Cas says and it takes Dean a moment to realize what he’s saying. Cas’s eyes are searching Dean’s face, or maybe just regarding him. Dean feels naked for it and he shifts uncomfortably. “You are...” Cas gives Dean a thoughtful look.
“Sense-ational?” Dean’s heart drops when he thinks he’s ruined the moment with his stupid jokes and his stupid mouth.
But Cas’s nose crinkles and he laughs and it’s the most gratifying, captivating noise Dean’s ever heard. Dean laughs too, although a little self-deprecatingly.
“That was a very bad joke,” Cas remarks. His eyes are lit up and more alive than Dean has ever seen them.
“Yeah, well, get used to it, I guess,” Dean replies.
Dean wonders what comes next. It’s not like he can ask the guy to go steady with him, ask him to the prom, invite him over to meet his parents. Hell, even if Dean were the kind of person who dated, he’s not sure he’d ever get up the courage to ask; it's something that would leave him so vulnerable. It’s just not his style, he decides. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Except...
Well, he doesn’t want to leave Cas. He hopes Cas doesn’t want to leave him. The love part is far too close to that aforementioned something vulnerable and he’s quick to back off that particular train of thought.
But what if this meant nothing to Cas? It’s been proven time and time again that he and Cas often don’t function on the same wavelength of reality. The guy tends to be so literal. So what if that’s it? What if this was truly just Cas taking the ol’ vessel out for a spin and now he can pack it away, all “thanks for the help, Dean. You’re a good friend.”
Dean’s nearly worked himself back into a panic. But then Cas says, “I am looking forward to it.” Dean must look like a deer in headlights because Cas clarifies, “Getting used to your particular parlance.”
“Christ,” Dean breathes. Then, since his chest feels lighter than ever, he adds, ”Do you and Sam both keep a thesaurus handy, like, all the time? It’s so obnoxious.”
“Yes, of course,” Cas replies, characteristically serious.
Dean pauses. “Wait...what?”
“Every angel assigned to Earth is given a thesaurus to ensure we sound just as high and mighty as we are.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dean says and he pulls Cas toward him to kiss the stupid smile off his face.
Cas returns the kiss eagerly, leaning into Dean’s space. Then he keeps pushing into Dean’s space until Dean is forced onto his back, the armrest console digging uncomfortably into the back of his neck. But Dean hardly notices as Cas is getting adventurous and trailing his mouth, hot and wanting, down Dean’s jaw to the spot just underneath that has Dean practically squirming with how good it feels. Arousal pools in Dean’s abdomen and his hands are desperate to touch Cas’s skin, but his stupid jacket and his stupid shirt with his stupid tie is in the way. Dean groans in frustration and he feels a huff of warm breath on his neck as Cas gives a small laugh.
Dean has finally pulled Cas’s shirt free from his trousers so he can at least get a hand around him to press against his back and pull him even closer. Dean aches with a deep, primal need to be as close to Cas as possible with as few clothes possible on top of that, but without either of them separating for even a second because Dean thinks he might die if they do. Especially once Cas takes a tentative nip of his neck.
Dean’s hand—the one not wrapped around Cas’s back—curls into Cas’s hair and pulls lightly. It must be all right since Cas stutters out a soft “oh” and his head drops to Dean’s shoulder.
“Do you— Is that—?” Dean swallows around his stubborn words and prays Cas gets the message since the English language is currently out of reach.
“Yes,” Cas says in reply and, God, the way his voice is deeper and raspier than usual and Dean can feel Cas’s voice vibrate in his own chest.
Cas’s mouth is on Dean’s again. Cas slips his tongue against Dean’s and Dean pulls Cas even closer.
Suddenly, Dean’s head drops and they break apart as the door Dean was against opens. “Ah, what the fuck!” Dean cries before he catches the eye of his own brother looming above him.
“Hello, Sam,” Cas says. Cas's tone is calm and light even though he’s currently straddling Dean and looking decidedly ruffled, clothes askew and hair on all ends.
“I...am so sorry,” Sam says. Although even from upside-down, Dean can just tell he’s secretly delighted. “I woke up and— Well, you were gone so— But here you are! Um.”
“Fuck off, Sam,” Dean pleads, his voice muffled behind his hand, which is covering his face in a mixture of embarrassment and exhaustion.
“Right. Sure. Sorry. Again.” Sam is still standing there a moment later though. “Uh...your head is...in the way...”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dean curses before he leans up, turns over, and slams the door closed.
Cas sits back and Dean, head resting back on the arm console, watches Cas’s eyes as they track Sam across the parking lot and back toward their motel room.
“I’m going to have to kill him now.”
“I hardly think that’s an appropriate response,” Cas replies. “Besides, he didn’t seem upset.”
“Yeah, no, that’s not really the point.”
Cas stares down at Dean in reply and Dean finally drops his hand away, resting it on Cas’s thigh.
“I should go,” Cas says quietly.
Dean feels his heart drop into his stomach. “Oh,” he says. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
Dean goes to lean up, but Cas holds him back with a hand to his chest. “Dean, you think very loudly.”
“I do not. Wait— Are you reading my fucking mind?!” Dean is absolutely mortified, but then he recognizes the shit-eating grin on Cas’s face, even if it's not nearly as obvious or obnoxious as Sam's.
“Not as such, but your face is very...expressive.” Cas is looking at him fondly again and Dean rolls his eyes.
“Goddamn sap,” Dean mutters, but he’s smiling in spite of himself.
“I have work to do,” Cas says more seriously. “But I...” He hesitates and his eyes flick to the side. Dean’s beginning to learn it’s a tell for when he’s nervous. “I wouldn’t mind...continuing, as it were, at a later time.”
“Hey,” Dean says and pulls Cas to face him again with a soft touch to his chin. “It’s a date.”
“Oh!” Cas says, eyes widening in surprise. “Is it? My understanding of modern human courting seemed to—“
“‘Modern human courting’?” Dean cuts in. “Who am I, Jane Austen? Christ, just...get out of here. We can talk later.” Hopefully when his heart rate is back to a livable pace and he can think straight.
“Good,” Cas replies agreeably. “Perhaps next time we can each masturbate each other. I have heard wh—“
Dean slams a hand over Cas’s mouth before he can finish. He stops talking but gives Dean a withering look.
“Our first conversation is going to be about what you can and cannot say out loud to me. Ever. Under any circumstances.”
Cas pulls Dean’s hand away. “I see,” he says gravely. Dean’s not sure he does, actually, but that’s for another day.
Cas leans down and presses a comparably chaste kiss against the side of Dean’s mouth. “Until later, then, Dean Winchester,” he murmurs.
And just like that, he’s gone, leaving behind a vacuum quickly filled by cool evening air. Dean blows out a long breath and stares at the ceiling of his car. Maybe he’ll spend the rest of the night here. It’s got to be better than whatever conversation is awaiting him back in the motel room.
A giddiness rises in Dean’s chest, which is unexpected. Aftershocks of necking an angel, he supposes.
Well, better to face Sam now. It’s going to be a lot of dumb questions and he won’t want to answer them in the morning.
Maybe he’ll just kill the kid instead. Easier that way.