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Dean's cruising down Route 66, Castiel in the passenger seat, Bad Company in the tape deck.
He still can't quite get over the fact Cas is human. The angel seems so lost without his grace.
It's been raining steadily for the last hour when all of a sudden, the sky cracks open and it's a deluge. The rain practically whites out the windshield, coming too fast for the wipers to keep up. Dean slows and maneuvers to the shoulder.
"Why are we stopping?" Cas asks.
Dean gestures at the flooded windshield. "Kinda need to see to drive, buddy. We'll just have to wait it out."
Castiel says nothing. He's been a bit quiet since Dean found him working at that gas station. Dean gropes for something to say.
The silence settles between them thickly. There's just the sound of breathing as the rain beats on the roof of the car.
Dean digs his phone from his pocket and dials Sammy. "Hey."
"Hey. You on your way?"
"Yeah, we're somewhere on Route 66. Rain delay."
"Hopefully it lets up soon. See you in a bit."
Dean disconnects the call and slides the phone back in his pocket. Well, that killed five seconds. It occurs to him that for once he has Cas all to himself, and nowhere pressing to be just now. They could kill some time in a very fun way.
"So, Cas. How's being human?"
Castiel looks at him, shadowed eyes intent. "It is nothing like I imagined. There are so many requirements for maintaining the vessel…er, body. Urination, for example. Such a waste of time. And it happens several times a day."
Dean bites back a laugh because Cas is, as per usual, serious as all hell.
"Don't get me started on defecation," he mutters darkly.
Dean licks his lips. He's nervous. Why the hell is he nervous? He's pretty sure he hasn't been nervous about putting the moves on someone since the first time— if then.
But he can't use his usual lines. He can just see that.
Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
Castiel, deadpan: Yes, Dean. Very much.
"You know, humanity has fun aspects, too. For example…" He slides an arm around Cas's shoulders before he can change his mind.
"Dean. Your arm is around me." He says it as if Dean hasn't realized, as if somehow his arm ended up around him by mistake.
Dean gives his usual seductive grin. "I know that. I put it there."
Castiel frowns. "Why?"
Dean draws back, letting his arm fall to the seat between them. This was harder than he thought.
He can't count the number of conquests he's had in the back seat of the Impala…at least until he got old enough that sex in a car turned from endearing to pathetic.
Cas isn't a conquest though. Cas is so much more. And Dean wants to show him that. Sex in the Impala would be fitting, though. It had been more his home than any shitty motel ever had been. But Cas deserved better…more.
"Oh. I think I see." Castiel slides out of his trenchcoat and hands it to Dean. "You were cold, right?"
Dean stares at the coat. "You offerin' me your jacket?" Something soft puddles in his chest. "That's…." Dean can't even verbalize what that is. Sweet as all hell probably covers it. "No, I wasn't cold."
"Oh." Cas lets the jacket sit on the seat between them, staring ahead at the flood pouring down the windshield.
"But, uh…thanks anyway."
"Of course."
Why can't he get on his usual game? He's propositioned half the waitresses and bartenders across the country. Why can't he do the same with Cas? He wants to. He's sure he has wanted very few things more.
And maybe that's it. Some potential one-night stand shoots him down and it's nothing. Maybe a ding in his ego, but nothing more. Cas shoots him down and it's something. It's everything.
Dean clears his throat, keeping his eyes front. He can't ask it if he has to look at Cas while he does. "So, since you been human did you ever, uh…you know?"
Cas turns to him, eyes appraising. Dean can see it from the edge of his vision, but he doesn't meet his gaze. "If you're referring to sex, then no. There were opportunities. But I've never…been human before. So I wasn't sure how to go about it. And you weren't there to ask."
Dean fumbles for a second.
He means to ask how to have sex, and not whether I would have sex with him. This is a mentor-human moment, not a proposition. You got this.
Dean coughs,then clears his throat, blurting, "You could ask now."
"Dean. Are you saying you want to discuss coitus?"
His face heats. "What? I'm just sayin'...we got nothing else going on. You got questions, I got answers."
"Okay," Castiel says slowly. "How does one initiate intimate contact?"
Aw, hell. Dean chews his lip a moment before he says, "Sometimes you…put your arm around someone. Or maybe you…put your hand on their thigh."
The moment hangs in time, still but for the rain. He's pretty sure they're both holding their breath. He can practically hear the gears clicking in Cas's head. Even he's not that oblivious. He can put two and two together.
"I see," Castiel says slowly. He moves the jacket from between them and tosses it aside as he slides over and lets his hand rest high on Dean's thigh. "Like this?"
Breath coming fast, heart thundering in his ears, Dean can't answer. He turns to look at Cas finally. Their bodies are an inch apart, and Cas is touching his thigh. Cas's eyes are intent on his face and his lips tilt in the smallest of smiles.
"Yeah," Dean manages in a choked sounding voice. "Yeah, like that."
Tentatively, he slips his arm around Cas's shoulders again and he settles against him with a little hum of pleasure.
"What next?" Cas asks on the barest whisper.
Before he can stop himself or overthink the thing to death, Dean dips his head and slants his mouth over Cas's. Cas kisses him back, hand sliding higher. Dean gasps into his mouth, and pulls back just slightly, tipping his forehead against Cas's.
He squeezes his eyes shut. Breathing rough, a little breathless, he says, "Kissing is usually next. You, uh, want to get consent first. Before you touch someone. I kinda skipped that part."
Continuing to stroke his hand up and down Dean's thigh, Cas asks, "Do I have your consent, Dean?"
He nods vigorously. "Hell yes."
Then Cas is kissing him in a way he's never been kissed before. It's intense and focused, like the angel has been studying kissing and is going for his masters. Cas's lips move hotly over his and Dean stutters a gasp into his mouth as his fingers ruck up his shirt, slipping under to touch bare skin.
Cas is kissing him like it's his job, like his sole purpose right now is to kiss Dean. His rough hands are sliding over his abdomen, around to his back, holding him close.
Dean breaks away, heart pounding, mouth going dry. "Cas. What are we doing, man?"
"You're telling me how to initiate coitus."
"With…with me? Here? Now?"
Cas smiles and cups Dean's cheek in his hand. "Yes, Dean. You have my consent."
And that wasn't really what he'd been asking, but the words make him hot and he dives back down to claim Cas's mouth again.
Suddenly it's too much, and not enough. They're both pulling at clothes and freeing buttons, undressing each other. Somehow, they end up in the back seat, Cas between Dean's thighs. In the front seat, in his jeans pocket, his phone rings.
Cas pulls back, but Dean drags him back down.
"No, no, no. Ignore it. Don't stop."
"I have no intention of stopping, Dean." Cas levels a look at him. "I've wanted this for too long."
They make love in the back seat of the Impala. There's no other word for it. It's sweet and slow and deliberate. It's also something he's never done. He's had sex—with men and women, sometimes both at once. He's had quickies. He's fucked.
He's never made love, nor been made love to. And he's so glad it's Cas who shows him what it can be like. Cas who does everything with singular focus and intent. With tenderness and care.
Afterward, they lie together, Cas still on top of Dean, since that's the only way they'll both fit on the seat. They're both still naked, the sweat cooling between them.
The rain has let up at some point but it still spatters the roof dully.
"Should we go?" Cas asks with a glance through the windshield.
"Not yet," he murmurs, hand stroking through Cas's hair.
Dean's phone rings again. Sammy probably.
Dean ignores it again. This is more important. Lying here with Cas on top of him, skin to skin, the weight of him comforting.
Dean's starting to doze off, fingers still gliding through raven dark hair.
Someone jerks open the front passenger side door and both Dean and Cas tense. Dean has the presence of mind to cover them both quickly with Cas's coat as they both sit up and Dean grabs his gun.
Sammy sticks his head in the door, expression moving through the cycle of fear, then astonishment, then understanding.
"Whoa. Sorry guys." There's a laugh in his voice and his eyes shine with humor.
Sam turns his back and sits on the passenger seat sideways, one hand up to shield them from his peripheral. "I got worried when you didn't answer your phone. Guess you were…busy. I came looking—ow, I'm sorry!" he cries as Dean smacks him in the back of the head.
Dean snaps, "Goddamnit, Sammy," as he struggles into his jeans. Cas is also frantically dressing. Heat creeps up Dean's neck.
"Sorry," he laughs, sounding anything but. Dean goes to slap him again and he ducks away and slams the door shut, taking off at a run for where his car idles on the other side of the road.
"You're embarrassed," Cas notes as they both climb over the seat and into the front.
"Hell yeah, I'm embarrassed. My brother just saw me naked."
"He saw me, too. He saw us together. Is that what's heightened your endocrine response?"
"My what?"
"You're blushing," he explains.
Dean laughs nervously. "Yeah, I guess."
"You didn't want anyone to know about this. Is that right? Don't 'kiss and tell'?"
Dean shoots him an incredulous look, but Cas's head is tipped down, eyes on the floor.
"No. No, Cas, that's not it."
Cas still won't look at him, and Dean reaches out. Finger under his chin, he turns Cas's head, forcing him to look at him. "I don't care who knows about us. Promise."
Cas smiles as Dean puts the car in gear to follow Sam back to the motel.
"Is there…an us?" Cas asks.
Dean clears his throat. "If you want there to be."
"Yes, Dean. I do. Do you?"
"Of course I do. It's what I've always wanted."
Cas murmurs, "Me, too."
Dean drops his right hand from the wheel and Cas laces his fingers with his, thumb stroking over the back of his hand.
He's riding high. He got laid, and he got Cas. Castiel is finally his. Dean can think of nothing better.
"You know. I like when it rains," he muses aloud, grinning ear to ear.