CHAPTER V: DIAMONDS ON MY WINDSHIELD

In which things are resolved.

"Okay, hurry up and pack your things and then we're out of here," Dean said. He was already packed and ready to go, but Castiel wasn't. Living on the road for pretty much all his life had instilled the habit of not spreading his belongings around. They stayed in the duffel bag. Castiel was still unused to the whole concept of belongings, and was going through different phases of spreading them around and arranging them in the rooms they stayed. Dean was both annoyed and heartbroken by this, while Sam seemed to approve of it for some reason. Castiel treated his few things with such care, like they were made of precious porcelain. Now he was zooming around the room and throwing his stuff at his bag and forcing them down, which was not a good sign.

"Slow down, Cas, I said 'hurry' not 'run your balls off'. Chill, dude," Dean remarked, but Castiel didn't listen.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked and grabbed the smaller mans shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry."

"What?" Castiel turned bright red and Dean knew at that moment that he'd have to use deadly force to make Castiel look him in the eye. "It's about this morning, isn't it? I told you it was okay. You don't have to feel bad about it. It happened to me too, okay? I don't feel bad about it, just, you know, embarrassed. It's the body's response to being close to somebody. It doesn't have to be sexual. Heck, I don't think of you that way at all."

It was totally okay to tell white lies to a fallen angel experiencing his first sexual crisis, Dean figured, even if it hurt like someone was using his goddamned soul as a dart target. Castiel didn't look reassured at all.

"Awkward boners are a part of being human. It's a bit like getting splinters, or dirt in your eyes. It's not nice, you just have to learn how to deal with it." Dean, for example, was getting an awkward dose of self-loathing by saying those words out loud, but that was life as well. He could deal. Castiel didn't need the extra burden of his even more awkward feelings or fucking affection towards him.

Dean grabbed the free champagne out of the minifridge and wrapped it in a t-shirt. He and Sam would make a night out of it, and he figured Castiel could probably use getting to know the finer stuff in life. The label wasn't all that fancy, but neither of them usually went for anything fancier than the cheapest vodka or tequila in stock.

"Okay. Spill it. Tell me what's wrong. Forget what I said before. We're not leaving this room until you tell me what's up." Castiel didn't lift his eyes from the carpet, but at least he muttered something.

"What? Say that again, will you?"

"About this morning. I'm sorry. But it felt really good. I'm so ashamed, and I know you didn't…" Castiel said, and then added: "I think I might be in love with you."

Dean felt like sitting down. So he stumbled over to the bed and did.

"I've been for a while, I think. You have no idea how hard has been these past few days, sharing this room, this bed, with you. And then you almost died, that ghost… I don't know how much more of this I can take," Castiel said. "I knew it was a bad idea to tell you this. You have made it clear that you don't reciprocate at all, but you forced me to. I… I think I'll go outside and wait in the car now."

Castiel took his duffel bag and slammed the door shut behind him. Dean was too busy with staring at his hands to follow him, and with wondering how the Hell he could have missed something as vital as Castiel being in love with him when he had thought about little else for the past months. He himself had tried his best to hide his own intentions, sure, but Castiel hadn't exactly mastered subtlety. Dean desperately wanted it to be real, but knew deep down that it wasn't. Castiel couldn't know what real love was, not yet, and even if he did the only reason he'd think he felt it for Dean was that he had been around too few other people. No one in their right mind could fall in love with him, not after getting to know him and — god forbid — go road tripping with him for months. He realized he'd have to straighten that up with Castiel before they left. They so did not need Sam in the midst of that discussion. Sam would probably just advocate for true love or some other bullshit, like the sensitive little twerp he was.

Dean grabbed his own bag and jogged down the stairs to reception. He slammed the room keys and a ten-dollar bill on the front desk, and walked over to the Impala. Castiel was leaning against the car, head downcast.

"You are not in love with me. It doesn't make sense. You should like nice women, you know like nice, regular women. You've been married to one. There's no way that you're n love with me. Now, me being in love with you, that makes a fuck-ton of sense, since you're all…" Dean trailed off. He realized that he A: was yelling and B: was yelling about stuff he had not minutes ago sworn he'd take to his grave. "Oh, for the love of…"

Dean's autopilot switched on, and he pushed Castiel against the car and kissed him. It was the only sensible thing to do. Castiel gave off a wounded sound like a dog's squeaky toy.

"This is bad," Dean gasped as he forced them to pause to breathe. Castiel wasn't listening, he was too busy pressing light kisses on his neck and jaw. His cold hands wandered up to tug at Dean's shirt, to eventually find naked skin and hipbones. It felt good, way too good. Though Castiel was all skinny, he was a lot softer than he looked. "Hey, hey, stop already."

"I don't think I care if you don't love me, as long as you let me do this. This is… this is…" Castiel's eyes teared up, as if Dean didn't feel bad already.

"We need to go. I mean. We need to get going or Sam is going to worry. I told him we'd be with him last night," Dean whispered. He needed to say it, as some stupid defense mechanism kicked in. The words hurt to say.

"Please, just… just a little more. I need this. I need you. I don't… I just…" Dean turned his head away, grim faced and knuckles going white. Castiel let go of his hips and feebly tried to smooth down Dean's t-shirt and shirt. "I'm sorry. We'll go now. Sorry. Let's just go…"

"Backseat," Dean growled. "Get on the backseat now."

Whenever Castiel wanted something, Dean did his best to get it for him, be it something small and trivial like a newspaper, or something virtually impossible like his Grace restored. Now that something was Dean himself, and he'd be damned before he denied Castiel that.

"Come on, we'll make it quick. Sam can wait a little longer." Castiel didn't need more encouragement. He crawled onto the backset and lay down on his back, like the night before. Dean kneeled over him, the back of his head pressed against the car roof.

"You have no idea how long I've thought of doing this."

"Yes, I do. I know."

"Fucking angel," Dean breathed and leaned down. They kissed again, soft and slow this time, and Dean liked it even better than the first time. He had thought a lot about that moment. The backseat of the Impala hadn't been his favorite setting, but it had occurred to him more than a few times.

Taking his sweet time, Dean unbuttoned Castiel's cardigan and shirt, and pushed the white t-shirt up to his armpits. Just touching and putting his mouth on warm skin was making him dizzy. Castiel was breathing heavily and didn't take his eyes of Dean, not for one moment.

Dean experimentally put his mouth on a nipple and flicked at it with his tongue. Castiel moaned and arched back with a jerk. His hands found their way to Dean's shoulders, pushed the leather jacket back and dug sharply into his muscles.

"Oh fuck, this is good, isn't it?"

Castiel hummed and didn't let go. Dean kissed his way down chest and stomach, until jeans stopped his way. He unzipped and edged them down the best he could in the cramped space, and then he paused. The other man was splayed out before him, human and hard and way too real. Both of them had goose bumps all over because, fuck, it was cold in the Impala.

"I love you," Dean said and meant it with his whole being. "Fuck, I love you."

Castiel stiffened and gave him a strange wide-eyed stare, and Dean was sure he had gone too far. The bottom of his stomach lurched downwards in free-fall, like someone had tugged his innards out through his toes. It only lasted for a second though.

"Dean, your butt is vibrating."

"Wha-" He fumbled with his pocket and fished out his cellphone. "Oh. Hey Sam. No, we're okay... No, nothing. Nonono, nothing at all. Listen, we're on our way. We'll be there. Okay." He threw the cellphone on the front seat. "Bitch."

Dean took a moment to just look at Castiel. He was fingering the buttons on Dean's still zipped up jeans and made a face that was both blissfully innocent and wicked. If only they had a few more hours, if only Sam wasn't waiting in Lexington, if only…

"We really should get going now," he said. "Crap."

Dean pulled up the angel's jeans best he could, and tugged down shirt and T-shirt. He still couldn't bear to completely let go of him though, and his hands unconsciously lingered on his thighs.

"Maybe we could do this another time. If you're not…" Castiel whispered. Dean almost laughed.

"Yes. Yes we sure as hell will. Don't you worry about that."

THE END