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Everyone has their idea for the perfect first time.
It’s often thought of over and over again until the idea is honed… all talented hands, skilled lips, and rehearsed dirty talk. Dean Winchester was no exception to the practiced daydream. He imagined himself being charming and smooth, confident and experienced. I mean, what could go wrong? He had imagined Castiel moaning his name just as many times as he had actually made women scream it out. When the time came, he would have it completely thought out. It would be perfect.
But the thing is… it wasn’t perfect.
It didn’t start with a candle lit dinner, or cuddling, or urgent declarations of love. It started with tension so thick that Dean could feel its weight on his shoulders. It started with that one look Castiel always gave him, like he was made of glass. But glass breaks, and god did Dean want to break.
Dean loved Castiel, and Castiel had loved him for even longer. But they were both too foolish to admit it, too proud. And so they fought. Because if they were unable to fight these feelings, they might as well fight each other. Dean’s face was red and angry, causing his freckles to burst against his skin like constellations. Castiel’s eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw locked. Dean was trying to egg it on, because he would rather have Cas yelling gruff profanities at him rather than avoid him like he had been lately. But instead, the angel didn’t say a word. He stared at him, an overwhelming ocean of blue in his eyes that made Dean swallow hard as his mouth went dry.
“Dean…” That all too familiar, annoyed urgency came from Castiel’s lips. All he said was the hunter’s name. That’s it. But it escaped his mouth in a tone that revealed he was afraid that one wrong word could cause his entire world to come crashing down.
Dean felt naked against his gaze, vulnerable. Every time he inhaled, he felt like his chest might splinter. The angel just shook his head sadly, and turned to leave. Something had to give…and so it did.
Dean grabbed at the angel’s shoulder, his hand so shaky and sweaty that it nearly slid off of his trench coat. Cas spun around so fast that they nearly crashed into each other.
“What is it, Dean?” There were a million different answers to the question, and Dean had no idea where to even begin.
“Cas, you’re a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that, right?” Dean was trying to lighten the mood. He licked his lips, along with his mouth, they were begging for some sort of moisture.
“I believe you’re the one that’s stubborn. How often do I have to remind you that everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you? And you still don’t seem to understand.”
“Understand what?” The hunter’s voice was smaller and more broken that he had intended. The angel dropped his gaze. This was their game. A game of cat and mouse where they would both dance dangerously close to the flames that was admitting their love, only to jump back and run around in circles again. And Castiel was getting sick of it. Dean could see it in the way he tented his eyebrows a little more intensely every time the topic came up. He was sure a similar look reflected on his own face.
“What do you expect from me, Dean? What do you want me to do?”
“Kiss me.” The words were out of Dean’s mouth before he could process them. His voice was pleading and hopeful, and it sent Cas over the edge.
Their lips met with enough force to cause a tidal wave. Their passion snapped with the intensity of a plane crash. But it wasn’t this perfected, open mouth kiss, it was all noses bumping and teeth clinking messily. Dean’s fingers fisted into Castiel’s messy locks, making him painfully aware of just how sweaty his hands were, just how hard they were shaking, and just how nervous he truly was.
Neither of them would be able to tell you how they made it to the bedroom if they tried. It was all in whirl of sloppy kisses and uncoordinated, wandering hands. Dean’s skin was alive under Castiel’s loving hands, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly loved by someone other than family. He pulled away from the angel long enough to mutter something about playing some music. Of course Dean had some cheesy 80’s romance ballads (that would cause Sam to snort) that would set the mood. But he was so goddamn nervous that instead of choosing any of those he chose a playlist of AC/DC, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Styx, and a few more classics because he felt like he was crawling out of his skin. His hands were shaking so bad that he accidentally exited out of the music player twice before finally being able to select it. He made his way back to Castiel, their lips drawing together like it was exactly what God had intended all along.
Dean felt like he was on the brink of crumbling, like any one of Cas’ touches would turn him to dust. He kissed his angel more feverishly, why am I so nervous? and what if I fuck this up? running through his head. Castiel must have sensed the doubt and the fear, because he pulled away from Dean just long enough to look into the forest of greens and browns in the hunter’s eyes. Cas gave him a soft, tender kiss on the on lips, before trailing down his jaw, his lips screaming reassurance. Dean’s rehearsed daydreams may have flown out the window, but all his doubt shattered like delicate stained glass. He heard the rustling of Cas removing his trench coat, and he thinks the sound is more deafening that it should be. His clumsy fingers go after Castiel’s tie, failing quite a few times before finally managing to undo it, and he wonders why he came undone more easily than the piece of fabric.
“We don’t have to do this, Cas.” His voice is hoarse.
“No, it’s okay. I want to.” Castiel replies, stroking his cheek. “I want you.”
And Dean will be damned if that isn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. He tries to regain his confidence, his vision that he had planned out in his head time and time again. He slowly begins to unbutton his red shirt, a color that suddenly seems dull in comparison to the passion between them. Castiel mirrors his actions, his hands a lot more steady and his disposition a lot calmer. The angel’s shirt was on the floor before Dean even finished his buttons. At an attempt to be sexy, he bites his lip and tries to pull off his shirt in a single fluid movement, for it only to get caught on one of his elbows. He feels the white hot feeling of embarrassment creep up his cheeks, but Castiel only smiles adoringly and helps him, kissing every inch of him that his lips can reach.
“I’m normally better at this.” The hunter tried to explain, his voice cracking from just how flustered he was becoming. Dean Winchester had never been bad at sex. He had mastered the one night stand. He had made backs arch, toes curl, and earned praise like his name was that of a god. But here he stood, confused and lost and so overwhelmed with desire that his jeans had become a denim prison.
“You’re fine, Dean.” His voice was gruff, but the comment patient and sincere. But Dean was still losing his mind, his lack of finesse feeling like it very well may be the death of him. Once again trying to be sexy and fluid, he grabbed at Castiel’s belt, relieved and surprised when it slid through all of the pants rings without hesitation. His hands steadied a bit as he undid the button, and went to jerk the zipper down. But the zipper got stuck, and he didn’t bother trying to hold the frustrated groan in. His angel grabs him by the shoulders, causing his focus to snap to those beautiful blue eyes.
“We can’t do this. Not like this.” The words cause Dean’s heart to sank because fuck, I blew it, but he’s shocked to find the angel slowly pushing him back on the bed.
“I thought you said we can’t do this…?”
“Not with you being a nervous wreck, we can’t. Just relax Dean.” And for once in his life, Dean did just that. He didn’t need to be in control, in fact he was relieved that for once he wasn’t. The angel kissed the hunter’s neck lovingly, and began to suck gently when he stopped himself. Castiel had thought about covering Dean’s neck in bruising hickies, but it just reminded him of other times in which Dean had bruised at his hands. So instead, he wove an apology with his lips. Cas slid his zipper down with ease
It was nothing like Dean expected. It was kissing until both of them were breathless, and had to take a moment to breathe. It was awkward laughter. It was bumping foreheads, and tripping while trying to kick off boxers. It was piercing blue eyes searching hunter green ones, making sure every movement was comfortable. It was clumsy hands groping, and stubble burned skin. It was lazy, uncoordinated thrusting. It was is this okay? not sexy, smoldering quips. But Castiel had the patience of a nun, and somehow found Dean’s effort endearing and loved him even more for it.
And afterwards, it was even more out of character.
Damp hair stuck to the napes of their necks while sated smiles spread across their lips. Dean was facing Castiel, snuggled up against him, their noses touching. Castiel half expected Dean to withdraw in on himself, something he did fairly regularly. But not this time. The hunter was clinging to him, like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Castiel held him, both shocked and pleased. The moments ticked by, and not once did Dean relax or loosen his grip on his angel. Cas kissed Dean’s forehead, a loving humming noise coming from deep in his throat.
“I’m not going anywhere, Dean…I love you.” And at first Dean choked on trying to say 'I love you' back. He coughed and cleared his throat, terrified that if his clumsiness earlier didn’t mess things up, then this certainly had. But Castiel was all loving, blue eyes. And even though Dean's words didn’t come out smoothly, they came out honestly.
“I love you too, Cas.” Dean found himself praying that the perfect angel before him would give him a second chance.
What he didn’t know, was that Castiel would give him a thousand more chances. A million more chances. And he wouldn’t stop there. He would never stop until Dean realized he was worthy of all the love the angel had to offer him.
So their first time wasn’t perfect. But it was perfectly imperfect… and neither of them would have it any other way.