Chapter Text
“The congress of Dean Winchester will now come into order!”
All the gooey parts of Dean’s brain gather together close, feelings bumping into feelings, emotions spiraling out of control and seriously, what the fuck is happening.
“We are here to discuss what I’d like to call… Destiel.” That’s the gigantic love emotion talking, literally a giant heart with the face of… Holy shit, is that Sam’s face!?
All of the feelings cheer, waving their rainbow banners around in unison, chanting different ship names and prattling on about sentiments that Dean is really not used to.
“I’d like to start off by saying that I fucking ship it,” one deep feeling says. “I ship it so fucking hard.”
“And Dean totally got some last night!” One of the emotions screams.
More cheering.
What the fuck.
“That was awesome.”
“Yeah, it felt so… weird. But good.”
“QUIET! We have to discuss how we’re all going to get through this!” Another emotion calls.
“What do you mean?” The rest question. And they don’t exactly have eyes, but if they did they would be so freaking large and round and circular.
“We all know Dean is going to have a big gay panic.”
All of the screaming and crying dies down abruptly.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“We have to prevent it!” The love emotion screams shrilly, throwing notional arms up into the liquid-y air. “Because Destiel is fucking life and Cas is meant for Dean and they need each other more than the ocean needs the shore or the peanut butter needs its jelly or-“
“Shut up. You’re stupid poetry is giving me a headache.”
“Sorry. So, all in favor of keeping all the emotions that could cause this giant panic under a giant rock!?”
Every single emotion and feeling screams, “I!”
Except the emotions that want to panic. They are sort of screaming in protest, but they’re already being dragged away into darkness and it’s sort of scary.
And that’s what Dean is feeling right now.
Like he’s going to panic.
Maybe at the disco, if that suddenly pops up in his dream. But he doubts it.
_______________________________
Now, don’t get him wrong.
Dean is so freaking happy that his heart just might burst out of his freaking chest. Like that one case awhile back where, well, you know. And that would clearly be bad. But, really.
Here he is, in a hotel bed with Castiel AKA bamf angel who can kill with one touch and he’s happy, because last night was… Perfect. Dean finally got the chance to explore every square inch of the angel’s body, kiss every centimeter of glorious sweaty skin and feel every millimeter of soft hair and every warm touch sent hot spikes of light through Dean’s whole body.
Yes, it was perfect.
So… He should freak out right? The Winchester way? Yeah, apparently that’s the best solution!
Dean stares down at Cas, who is rolled up under the hotel covers, breathing softly. His hand is placed, heavy and soft, on Dean’s stomach and he looks just… So good. So kind and loving and the way he handled Dean like he was a delicate piece of glass last night…
Why the hell is he acting this way!?
Castiel is everything he wants and now, Dean has him and suddenly, all those gay freak out feelings are back and more prominent than ever. Maybe he’s just scared of Cas being whisked away by some evil force and Dean will go right back to being lovesick and cold and alone. He won’t let that happen, even if it means pushing the feelings down.
Way… Way, way down… Like, really down. Into those sickening trenches that all those love poems talk about. Yeah, down there is good.
Cas shifts in his slumber, wrinkling up his nose and gravitating closer to Dean’s warmth. Dean smiles and all those domestic thoughts come drifting back…
They really should get back to the Bunker.
Quickly. So Dean can make Cas some pancakes and give him his side of the memory foam and-
“Dean?”
Cas is awake, blue eyes blinking slowly from drowsiness. But a soft smile is on his face and the hand on Dean’s tummy is sliding up to cup his chin. “Hey,” Dean says gently, slumping back down onto the pillow.
“I still can’t believe…” Cas trails off, sighing contently, already pushing against Dean’s body, bare feet tucking under his shins, seeking heated cloth and more skin-on-skin contact.
The sun is drifting lazily in through the blinds and the room is so damn cozy, Dean can almost imagine that they’re inside their own house, in their own bedroom, in their own bed… Where is that damn golden retriever when you need him?!
“What can’t you believe?” Dean asks, running a hand through Cas’ hair.
It’s so soft. He’s dreamed about this hair. These eyes and these lips.
God, it’s everything and is life supposed to feel this utopian?
“That I have you,” Cas whispers against his skin, like a prayer.
Oh, damn. There goes that heart again. Beating a tattoo in his chest, taking no prisoners as it attacks the Congress of D.W. with everything its got.
Great. Now they’re all cheering again.
Dean doesn’t even know what to say, because what can beat that? So he simply rolls to his side and goes in for the kiss when-
Cue interrupting moose.
“Dean?” Sam yells, pounding on the door. “Cas? Wake up! Why is the door locked?”
Dean groans and not in the sexy way. Cas gives him a shy smile, running his fingertips over Dean’s lips before rolling away. He can’t help but stare at Cas’ body, knowing that those dark bruises on his chest were from his own lips and the light scratches were from his deep set pleading, begging for more…
“Guys,” Sam whines through the door.
“Dude, we’re coming,” Dean yells, getting out of the sultry cocoon of sheets and hurrying over to his bag to grab some clothes.
Cas is pulling on one of Dean’s worn t-shirts, hopping into some jeans and oh, he looks so, so good…
“DEAN.”
Sam is persistent in his pounding and Dean’s afraid that he’ll knock the door off its hinges with his giant moose strength. “Just- dammit- wait a second!”
Dean pulls on mismatched clothes, accidentally tripping on his boots, and checks to make sure Cas is decent before finally opening the door. “What the hell took you so long?” Sam says, barging in with his laptop and shiny hair.
“Some people actually sleep,” Dean mumbles, sitting down on the unused bed uncomfortably.
He hopes Sam doesn’t notice that only one bed has been slept in and that both his and Cas’ clothes are strewn all over the room and, wait, does he even want Sam to know?
But, his little brother is oblivious as he plops down into a chair and begins typing away on his laptop so Dean doesn’t offer the information. “So, I was thinking that before we go home, we could check out this other case on the way,” Sam explains.
“Another one?” Dean groans.
He just wants to get home and let Cas have a drawer and a toothbrush and all that stuff that they’ll make up along the way.
“Yes, Dean. That’s what we do. We hunt.” Sam gives him a strange look. “What is up with you lately? You’ve been acting really weird.”
Dean sneaks a glance at Cas. The angel is already messing with the TV, searching for the Geography Channel and those damn penguins, probably. Right now, hunting is the worst thing in the world. Really. Like, he just wants to lie in bed all day with Cas. He’ll even watch hours of waddling penguins if that’s what Cas wants.
Yeah, he’s going crazy. But it feels… good. Healthy. Exactly where he should be. That’s what Cas does to Dean… Dean throws him a hurricane and Cas dwindles it down to a rain shower.
“I’m just tired, man,” Dean says, scratching his head. “I just think we should… Take a break, you know?”
Sam looks at him like he’s insane. “A break?”
Even Cas looks back from the gigantic emperor penguin making a brood pouch around a single egg on the TV. Cas tilts his head, also looking confused.
“I just…” Dean grapples for an explanation. “Don’t you think we all deserve one?”
“I guess…” Sam looks down at his screen, frowning. “What would we even do?”
Think, Dean. Something that involves your brother and the angel you’re in love with…
A lightbulb appears overhead and Dean grins. “How would you fellas like to go to the beach?”
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They decide to go back to the Bunker to pack up before they set off for some sort of beach Sam thinks will be nice to visit. Dean’s plan is to spend big bucks. Maybe even get them some hotel rooms with a view and a way to pay for food other than creepy diners along the way. This will be Cas’ first visit to the beach and it isn’t going to be spoiled by crappy Mexican food and shitty beaches.
Cas seems content with the Winchester’s decision. Even Sam is prepping for a long vacation and Dean… Well, those emotions must have slipped out from under that boulder his brain talked about a few days ago. His panic involves tremendous apprehension towards telling Sam.
His moose of a brother. Sam Winchester, the kid who started the freaking apocalypse and had demon blood running through his veins not too long ago. The guy who has had Dean’s back since the kid could shoot a gun and sweet talk a secretary.
And Dean’s totally afraid to tell him about…gulp. Destiel.
Shi-
What if Sam totally despises him? What if he throws Cas out? What if he does that thing with his eyebrows and then his voice gets all high-pitched and his hands go up and…
Yeah, no. He can’t tell Sam just yet.
Dean shakes his head, trying to get back into vacation-mode. He stuffs clothes into his bag. A few pairs of swim shorts. Even a white tank top he can probably get away with. A vintage pair of flip flops are hidden in the back of his closet and after trying them on, he mentally thanks the Men of Letters for their love of comfortable footwear and fluffy bathrobes. Just as he’s zipping his bag up, someone knocks on his door.
“Come on in.”
Cas opens the door, blue eyes wide and a little uncertain, like Dean might push him out the door and tell him to pretend that nothing ever happened. That breaks Dean’s heart. He isn’t going to be an asshole. Not after everything they’ve been through. He can’t and he won’t.
“Hello,” Cas says, slipping in and closing the door softly behind him. “I, uh, Sam told me to ask you if I could borrow some clothes.”
“Oh, yeah of course.”
Dean smiles at him, taking in the hickey peeking out from under the neckline of Cas’ borrowed tee. Oh yes, Cas looks great in his shirt. The sleeves are tight around his muscles, but he is a tiny bit smaller than Dean so it hangs loosely around his chest and wow, Dean really likes Cas in his clothes…
“Dean?”
Oh yeah. Reality.
“Sorry.” He tears his eyes away and digs around in his dresser, searching for clothes that would most definitely outline every single detail on Cas’ body.
Oo, that shirt would be perfect… So would those jeans. And that button up that’s too small for you. And- oh look, that’s a hand sliding around his waist!
Dean swallows slowly and looks down into seductive crystal waterfalls.
“Oh, hi!” He squeaks, heat prickling up under his skin.
That look Cas is giving him is, um, sensual and-
“Dean.” Cas gives him an innocent smile, putting a hand on his chest, but hey, Dean knows how Cas is in bed and he is definitely not that shy baby in a trench coat he once thought of him.
“Yes?”
“I would really suggest getting us our own room,” Cas says softly, tapping his fingers on Dean’s collar bone, staring at his lips, “because if not-” He leans closer. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep a… low profile.”
Oh…
“O-okay,” Dean says, slightly shaking.
When- when did this side of Cas come out!? And during sexual advances, Dean has never been the kind to get nervous. So, so why is this all so new and erotic and exciting? Oh, and terrifying as hell!? Well, maybe not hell, because you know, it’s hell. But still.
His body is betraying him as he leans forward and Cas is so close and- NO why are you moving away, don’t move away! But Cas is stepping away and he has a playful smile on his beautiful face.
Bastard.
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says, grabbing the clothes from Dean’s hands, leaning away from his lips and the spark between them. “I’ll meet you in the Impala, okay?”
He smiles and squeezes Dean’s left shoulder before walking out of his room and… Just… why.
The congress of D.W. groans, every single emotion, even the raging anger that hasn’t come out since Robbie, all experiencing the horrid sexual tension spreading through Dean’s muscles, every single tendon and hamstring and bone and cell. They’re all wishing to be coquettish and flirty and God, Dean misses Cas even more, knowing that he can actually touch him now.
This is officially hell.
Dean’s already been there a few times.
And he doesn’t want to go back now.