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Fuck, this was supposed to be easy.
Dean had been waiting for it, imagining it in perfect, agonizing detail. He had ached for it so deeply, certain he would never have it. He had made the most of long showers with just the thought of it.
Now, here they were. He had planned out the whole night, from the sunset drive in Baby to the beers they shared by the fireplace Sam had discovered and got working in an abandoned room in the Bunker. He had worn his best goddamn underwear. But he could feel the familiar chill creeping over him, stealing the racing heat from his blood, locking his body up tight.
“Dean?” Cas slid his hand out of Dean’s underwear and propped himself up on his elbow, hovering beside Dean with a look of concern on his face.
Dean clamped his eyes shut. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Just keep—” He made a vulgar gesture with his hand.
Cas sighed. “We don’t have to continue.”
Dean groaned and let his fist thud against the mattress. “I want to continue. I want to fucking continue, I just—”
“You don’t have to force yourself to do this,” Cas said, voice growing petulant.
Dean’s eyes flew open. He turned to Cas, who wouldn't meet his eye. It made Dean so angry he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from saying something he would regret. It was one of those moments again, when something hit him or Cas the wrong way and suddenly they were scraping against each other like blades, fighting when neither of them meant to. It kept happening, and he was tired of it.
“Cas,” he said, forcing his voice slow and even. “It ain’t about that.”
“It ‘ain’t about’ what?”
Dean ignored Cas’s petty imitation. Geez, did Dean really sound like that? All fake-gruff, like he was Cas’s little league coach or something? He rolled over so he and Cas were chest to chest and put a hand on Cas’s hip. Cas still wouldn’t look at him.
“Buddy,” Dean said, letting his voice go soft. “Baby.”
The corners of Cas’s lips twitched but he held them tight.
“You know I want this. Didn’t I tell you how much I want this? I told you everything I want to do to you. You remember, right?”
He let his hand creep across Cas’s bare stomach, through the thin line of hair leading to his navel, up his chest.
Cas swatted his hand away. “Dean, something’s wrong.”
Dean sighed. He let his head droop. “Yeah, I know. But it’s not about you.”
“Are you—?”
“I’m sure.”
Dean knew what the problem was, and he knew it wasn’t Cas. It had started before the idea of getting with Cas was even a glimmer on the horizon. The last time sex was easy— like, really easy— was before he knew about Chuck. It was before Chuck, and before Purgatory, and before Cas, and before—
“I’m not the same guy who went to Hell,” Dean said.
Cas’s calloused fingers brushed Dean’s chin, lifting his face. He studied Dean’s expression with worried intensity.
“Relax,” Dean said, a wry smile twisting his mouth. “I’m not about to go all war-flashback on you.”
“I didn’t think—” Cas sighed. “You can share anything with me.”
“You think I want to dig up all that shit when I’m lying here with my dick out?”
“Your dick isn’t out, Dean.”
“Yeah, I know. Just listen, will you?”
Cas nodded. He seemed to relax a little, adjusting so he was leaning against the wall, angling to give Dean his full attention. He looked good in just his boxers. Old and squishy and a little saggy and just— so good . Touchable. Dean tucked himself in against Cas’s shoulder. He wanted to lean his head there, to curl into Cas’s chest, but that was too much. Instead he savored the warmth of their bare arms pressed together.
“Sex used to be so easy for me, you know? I kind of had a reputation for it.”
“Yes, I am aware,” Cas said. He sounded more amused than prickly, but Dean bumped his shoulder for it anyway.
“I’m not saying it was always good, but it was easy. I didn’t have to think. When I got back from Hell— thanks for that, by the way—”
“You’re welcome,” Cas said gravely.
“ — I thought it was gonna be the same. Sam and I did this hunt, pretty basic stuff, and there was this girl. Jamie.”
Dean winced a little when he said her name. He didn’t like remembering how he’d been then— still half-giddy to be alive, hopping from hunt to hunt to forget the Apocalypse breathing down his neck. There had been a weird itch under his skin, not unlike the itch that bugged him right before he went to Hell, when he knew he was counting his life in weeks instead of years. Back from Hell, but still running from it.
He’d joked to Sam about being re-hymenated, but really he just felt loose in his body, like he was put back wrong. He was just as mad at Cas for resurrecting him as he was desperately grateful, and that gratitude just made him madder, reminding him how weak he was.
He wanted Jamie because he wanted to remember who he used to be. But when he finally got her in bed, he could barely stand to let her touch him. She kissed him and he moved mechanically, trying to remember where he normally put his hands. She pulled him onto the bed and he got aroused, but at the same time he left his body. I’m not me. I’m not here . She ran her hands down his arms and he felt sick. She moaned and he flinched, passed it off as an expression of pleasure. He grit his teeth and got through it.
“Dean?” Cas said, and Dean dragged himself back to the present. He’d gone out of focus for a second.
“Sorry. I, uh— Jamie. I was saying…” He cleared his throat. “I tried to have a good time with her, but I wasn’t...it was like I wasn’t all the way back yet. And that scared the shit out of me. I didn’t try anything for a bit. I just stopped. And then I would try again, and sometimes it was okay, and sometimes—”
He could never tell if sex was going to help or hurt. Sometimes it brought him back from the darkest places in his mind, reminded him who he was. Sometimes it left him staring at his own hand, unable to recognize it, unable to tell if the room around him was real or if he had ever existed at all.
“It just hasn’t been easy since then. And that was before I knocked up an Amazon and had to kill my own kid.”
“You—” Cas lurched forward.
“Right you— you weren’t around for that.” Dean let out a short laugh. “It was whatever. But after that I wasn’t exactly hooking up with every girl who caught my eye, you know?” He realized he sounded a little defensive. “I’m just trying to say I’ve got issues, but you ain’t one of them.”
Cas was frowning deeply. Dean knew he probably had about a thousand questions, and probably half of them were about Emma. He saw Cas visibly set them aside, his face clearing. Dean was grateful.
“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” Cas said. “I took your reaction personally. That was self-centered of me.”
“Fuck, dude, don’t apologize.” Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’s shoulders and yanked him in, a move closer to a playful headlock than actual affection. Still, it brought them closer. “It’s not your fault.”
“I wish I could help.”
“You do.” Dean buried his nose in Cas’s hair and inhaled deeply. He could feel himself uncoil as he breathed in the familiar smells of Cas’s sweat and lavender shampoo. “So am I the only one here with weird sex hangups?”
“Yes,” Cas said, deadpan. “Sex is completely uncomplicated for me. My attitude towards it is perfectly healthy.”
Dean laughed so hard he almost cracked his skull on the wall. Cas watched him, seeming torn between irritation and fondness. When Dean finally calmed down, Cas said,
“It wasn’t that funny. I could have a healthy relationship with sex.”
“Of course you could,” Dean said indulgently.
“I stopped earlier because you seemed tense. But I was...hesitant, as well.” He looked down at his hands where they were curled in his lap, one thumb scratching at the side of his palm. Dean resisted the urge to press his hand over Cas’s and make him still. “It is irrational, but I was worried that once I gave you what you wanted, you wouldn’t need me anymore.”
Dean felt his body turn to stone. “You really think I’d do that, Cas? You think that’s who I am?”
There must have been something awful in his voice, because Cas looked frightened. “That’s not what I meant. It’s not because of you.”
“Isn’t it, though? I mean, maybe not the sex part, but— you really don’t believe I want you around.”
He knew it was his own fault, but he couldn’t help the hurt. He pulled his arm away, suddenly unable to bear the feeling of Cas's skin against his own.
“Dean,” Cas said, a desperate edge to his voice. “Dean, I’m sorry, I said the wrong thing.”
It was happening again. Again . Dean was watching it happen but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He felt himself growing cold, pulling away from Cas’s touch, which only made Cas more desperate to please him, to do anything to make Dean happy again, which reminded Dean how horrible he was, how awful he had been to Cas, all the ways he had let him down, and Dean withdrew further and further until—
Maybe it wasn’t going to work. Maybe they’d just been kidding themselves that with all the hurt between them, they could ever do something as reckless as love each other. As fuck each other. It took more hubris to think that was possible than it did to kill God.
“Please look at me,” Cas said, his voice breaking.
Dean closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He let it out slowly, ignoring the resentment and guilt and terror that buzzed under his skin. They could hum there all they wanted, but they weren’t going to make him snap and say something he couldn’t take back. Fuck that.
“Just gimme a minute, okay?” he said to Cas.
He could feel Cas hovering, could feel the effort it took him to keep from begging. But he was quiet.
A few months ago, this would have been a fight. A bad one. A tear-it-all-down-and-scorch-the-earth one. They’d had those fights, and sunk to those depths, and missed each other, and started all over again. Right now, it felt bad. But it was better than it had been, better than it used to be, and that was something.
“I’m sorry,” Dean said, gruff and quick, his eyes still closed. “I hear you, Cas. It just hit me wrong, okay?”
Cas exhaled shakily. “Can I touch you?”
Dean hesitated, then nodded. Cas’s hand snaked around his arm, warm, and Dean leaned into the touch. He didn’t know what to say. “I thought this would be easy”? That would just make him sound stupid. “I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up”? That was what he wanted to say, but it never got them anywhere. It just sent Cas off on a holy mission to make him appreciate his own worth, which wouldn’t work. Not with words.
“Just don’t go anywhere,” Dean said, hating the words even as they left his mouth. He hated how small they made him sound, but it was all he could think to say. He knew Cas would understand.
He was really saying, Let’s hang on to this just a little longer.
He was saying, I love you .
He was saying, Let’s try again tomorrow .
“I’m here,” Cas said.
And Dean relaxed just a little, because it was true. Cas was there, and so was Dean. That, at least, would be true in the morning.
Dean reached for Cas’s hand with his eyes closed. When he found it, he gripped it tight enough to hurt. Cas squeezed back.
“We’ll have very good sex someday,” Cas said.
Dean laughed. “Yeah, baby. We will.”