Notes/Warning: Dean/Cas, high school au, cracky-schmoopy-ficlet, based on a certain song that was playing when I was editing another fic, and I had to get it out before I could do anything else. They're both a little OOC, but I couldn't help it, it's hard to write emo!Cas. Drug use, cause I can't chase away the mental image of a teenaged, emo as all hell, mopey 2014!Cas in skinny jeans and eyeliner. Don't expect a lot of plot development, just the basics and then the sex. Okay, and some loooooooove, because that's all I want, really, is Dean and Cas to live happily ever after. I AM NOT PROUD OF THIS FIC BUT I HAD TO WRITE IT.

Disclaimer: Oh, right, the necessary reassurance that I'm not actually Kripke or Gamble. Let's be serious, if I was Gamble, this would be a Wincest fic.

Pop, Pot and Puzzle Pieces

It was the end of the first day of senior year. Dean was looking at the ground, when he saw the awesome shoes walking by a few parking spots down. They were high tops, bright purple checkered with black, neon green shoelaces, one of them precariously unraveling. He followed the legs up, black skinny jeans, displaying an ass that could only be described as created by God himself, firm and round, curved in all the right places. He allowed his gaze to go higher and-

Holy shit.That's a dude, he was instantly appalled at himself. The ass in question belonged to Castiel Davids, the school's resident emo kid.

What the fuck, Dean thought, repressing a shiver. His eyeballs refused to stop undressing the other boy. Bad eyeballs, he thought.

"Dude, your shoelace is untied!" he shouted across the spaces, and Castiel turned towards him, blue eyes flashing in anger. Dean belatedly realized how that must have sounded, and blushed with embarrassment.

Castiel took a step towards him, mouth opening with an angry retort, and abruptly tripped over the shoelace in question. Dean was instantly running across the cement, offering his hand to the boy on the ground.

"Dude, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"Forget it." Castiel refused the hand, pushing himself up and turning away from Dean sharply.

"Hey, man, chill out. It was a mistake," Dean grabbed his shoulder, "What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem. Thanks for the warning." Castiel pulled away, took a few steps.

"Cas!" Dean wasn't sure where the nickname had sprung from, or why he felt intensely that he didn't want Cas to leave abruptly, but his traitorous lips had apparently decided to side with the Brutus-eyeballs, and kept spewing out words, "Are you walking home?"

Cas stopped, looked back at Dean, eyes wide with confusion. Wow, he's got nice eyes. Underneath the eyeliner. Long eyelashes. Does he wear mascara? God, emo kids are fuckin' weird, Dean thought.

"Yes, I am. Why?" The disturbingly pretty eyes narrowed again.

"Just… Uh… Do you want a ride home?" Dean offered lamely, poking his toe into the pavement awkwardly.

Cas regarded him for a long, long couple of seconds.

"Yeah, all right," he finally said.

"Cool. Uh, this way," Dean lead the way to his car, where his little brother Sam was waiting for him.

"Wow," Cas said, looking at the Impala, "Nice wheels."

"Thanks. She's my dad's, Mom made him get a station wagon when Sammy was born, and last year, he lent her to me indefinitely, grade-dependent. 67' Chevy Impala, V8 327 4 barrel, 275 horsepower-"

"I don't really know much about cars," Cas cut him off, "It just looks badass. Sorry," he looked embarrassed.

"No, it's cool."

It turned out that Cas lived on the other side of town, a walk that would've taken him almost an hour.

'Holy shit, man, you live in the boonies," Dean remarked, as they pulled up outside the ramshackle house, "Do you walk every day?"

"Yeah, it's not that far, really. Thanks for the ride, though." Cas almost smiled, and was gone before Dean could remark further.

Sam chattered away at him as they drove home, and Dean half listened, trying to stop his brain, which had apparently teamed up with his mouth and eyes, from thinking about Cas's skinny jeans. No wonder he looks that good in them, if he walks this much every day, Dean smiled, thinking about the contents of the jeans, Seriously, what the hell? Do I like dudes? In my defense, he's the girliest possible dude to be lusting after. I wonder if he wears panties. Mmm, pink satin panties. He was getting hard. Evil brain. What. The. Fuck. Down, boy, he sternly reprimanded his bits and pieces.

Castiel was a wreck. He was smoking a spliff in his backyard, and listening to In Utero. He was trying desperately to think about anything other than Dean Winchester. Unfortunately, the other events in his life were equally depressing, so after jumping on the merry-go-round of self pity and resentment for a while, he let his mind wander back to Dean.

I mean, I've only had a crush on him since forever. Why he would choose to notice me now? He couldn't shake the idea that it had to be a trick. He's an outsider, cool, no one fucks with him, he does whatever he wants.

Cas tried not to think about the last guy he'd liked. He met Raphael in Bible Camp, and they'd had an idyllic summer, destroyed the last week by Raphael trying to force things farther and faster than Cas had been ready for. When he'd tried to tell Raphael no, he hadn't taken it well. The counselors had found Cas almost unconscious in the woods, bleeding and semi-clothed. His mom had assumed the worst, though, and when she found out he was gay, and that Raphael was his boyfriend before the fight, she lost her shit. Cas knew his mom still loved him, but she barely spoke to him anymore, they merely existed in the same house.

He could feel the pot taking over his brain, pushing away the other thoughts, the less pleasant memories of Raphael and his mom, and the gnawing fear of Dean's ulterior motives. He let the numbness seep into every crack of his brain, and smiled up at the twilight falling around him.

It doesn't matter. He probably just felt bad about the shoelace thing, and he won't talk to me again, he thought, and pocketed the roach. He went inside to make himself dinner- his mom wouldn't be home until after she finished her shift at the diner, and he had plenty of time to eat, and then drink himself into unconsciousness.

Dean lay in his bed, running his hand slowly along his stomach, contemplating letting it stray further south. He kept trying to think about Anna, Lisa, Cassie, any of the girls he'd messed around with, but his brain kept bringing it back to wide blue eyes and that perfect denim encased ass.

Fuck it, he thought, and wrapped his palm around his hardening cock. He thumbed the tip gently, reaching down with his other hand to run his fingertips across his balls. It's not like I have a problem with gay people. Sexuality is fluid, or some shit. Lesbians rock, if I like dudes, I'm like, the hot male version of the Lesbian Doctor on Dr.Sexy. It's not like I'd be the bitch or anything, either.

He allowed his brain to run rampant now, picturing the long eyelashes resting on the pale cheeks, as Cas's full lips closed around his dick. He imagined what it would feel like, watching himself disappear down the throat, feeling Cas groan around him in appreciation, feeling the long, slender fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. He stroked himself faster, feeling the friction decreased as precum leaked out, sliding his fingers over the sensitive spot under the head. He thought about what it would be like to sink into Cas's perfect ass, how tight, how grasping and hot it might feel. He pictured those round cheeks closing around his dick, envisioned the pretty, pretty eyes looking back at him and rolling back in pleasure, loving it.

That was too much, and he was over the edge, moaning out something that sounded a lot like, "Cas…" as he spurted hot cum over his hand.

Well, fuck. That was pretty gay, he thought with an amused grin, and then cleaned himself up for bed. I guess I'm gonna have to get him to start talking to me now.

Dean saw Cas alone on the bleachers at lunch, and plopped down beside him. He snatched the enormous earphones off the other boy's ears, saying, "Whatcha listening too?" as he lifted one to his own ear.

Cas tried to stop him, eyes panicking, and then Dean started laughing hysterically as he heard the upbeat dance pop blasting from the iPod.

I'ma get your heart racing,

In my skin tight jeans,

Be your teenage dream tonight…

That was all Dean could take.

"Seriously, dude? That is so not what men should be listening to."

"Fuck you. It's catchy," Cas snapped, yanking his earphones out of Dean's fingers, "And upbeat, and cheerful."

"It's Katy Perry."

"It's a guilty pleasure."

"Uh-huh. Is that what you like? Pop music?" Dean asked, trying to start a conversation that wasn't mockery.

"Not really." Cas wasn't helping the conversation along.

"Well, what do you like?" Dean wasn't going to give up without a fight.

"A lot of music." Cas was looking at him with either suspicion, irritation or disdain. Dean didn't like it.

"Top five musical likes, in no particular order," Dean said, pushing onwards.

Cas cocked his head to the side, and Dean was relieved to see whatever the unpleasant emotion was melt away, and thoughtfulness replace it.

After a pause, he replied, "Nirvana, Tom Waits, System of a Down, Led Zeppelin and Fallout Boy."

Dean was at a loss for words, gaped at Cas for a bit, and finally came up with, "Well, that's eclectic."

"That is a good descriptive word for me, I think."

"Why?"

'Why do I like those artists the most?"

"Yeah. It's just, I mean, how do you like Led Zeppelin, and fuckin' Fallout Boy, both intensely?"

"Well, Led Zeppelin rocks, I don't think I have to defend that to you," Cas gestured at Dean's Led Zeppelin shirt, "But I like them for a few reasons. First, I know it's cliché, but Stairway to Heaven might be my favorite song of all time. It's just perfect, in every way. Zep got a lot of their inspiration from Tolkien, which I like, and I know everyone has their own interpretations of it, but to me, it's about this person who thinks they can buy their way into Heaven, by following the technicalities of the Bible, but no matter how far down the wrong path you go, you can still be saved, if you can find your way to being a good person, really a good person, not just what the Church tells you to do."

Listening to him, Dean realized how very extremely sexual Cas's voice was. It was so much deeper than one would expect to come out of his skinny frame, raspy like someone who'd been filtering their vocalizations through cigars and brandy for years. Of course, he's also analyzing Zep for me,t hat might be part of why I'm hard as a goddamned rock right now, Dean thought ruefully.

Cas was looking down at his own feet, and Dean realized they'd been quiet for what was turning into an awkwardly long time.

"And Fallout Boy?" he asked.

"Heh. Well. Catchy, for sure, they write an awesome hook. They have really funny song titles, and I just identify with a lot of their lyrics. I'm not saying they're on the same level as Zeppelin, or Waits, or even a lot of other stuff, I just really like it. There's one song, Sugar, We're Going Down, I really like."

"That's the one with the deer person video, right? Why that one?" Cas seemed like he was relaxing now, responding to Dean's prompts, and Dean didn't want to let the conversation die.

"Yeah, that one. I like it because I like the idea of going down swinging, of knowing that you're doomed, but fighting anyway. I like the loaded God-complex part, a lot… And I kinda identify with being the guy who's watching the person they like be with someone else, and just wishing that they could be that someone else, wanting so bad to be who the person they like would want to be with, but just being so much more, just this fuckin' basket case. Yeah. Anyways. What about you? Top five." Cas raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, Zep, obviously, AC/DC, Van Halen, Foreginer, and Def Leppard."

"I'm not shocked at all by any of those," Cam said dryly.

"Well, yeah, I'm pretty set in my classic rock ways. I don't really have musical guilty pleasures, I guess," Dean shrugged.

"Do you have any guilty pleasures, Dean Winchester?" Cas rumbled, looking at Dean through his impossibly thick eyelashes.

Was that flirtatious? Dean thought, and decided to risk that it was.

"Yeah. I do. What's it worth for me to tell you?" he smiled.

"Hmm, it depends on how intriguing a pleasure it is. What if I bet it all, and then it's just Ben and Jerry's Half Baked? You have my shitty dance pop as leverage," Cas pointed out.

"Okay, I'll tell you, but you have to let me drive you home again today, if it's everything you hoped it would be."

"Hmm, and if it's not?"

"If it's disappointing, I'll never mention your disturbing like for Katy Perry again."

"Okay," Cas was actually smiling at him now, "Deal."

"Dr. Sexy, MD. I watch it. Frequently. I might also, sort of, kinda, in a very manly way, have the tiniest crush on Dr. Sexy."

Castiel's jaw dropped. Totally worth it,Dean thought, keeping his smirk on the inside.

"Are- um- are you-" Cas stammered at him.

"Gay? No, I don't think so. Sometimes. Lately. A little. For certain people," Dean looked at Cas, trying to gauge what was going through his mind. His expression was unreadable, now.

They both jumped a little as they heard the bell ring, signaling the end of the lunch hour.

"So, uh, see you after school? By the Impala?" Dean asked, hopefully.

Cas gave him another inscrutable look, then said, "Yeah, okay," before leaving hurriedly.

They fell into an easy friendship, after that. Dean wasn't sure if Cas was gay or not (although, he thought if one had the disposition to wear pants that tight, one probably was flamingly homosexual), and he didn't want to push things and risk chasing away the weird kid. He never knew what Cas was going to do or say next, and he kinda loved it, the insane shit that Cas spouted, ranging from almost insanely religious to blasphemy, or knowing he could be about to hear a diatribe on the appeals of dance pop or an explanation of how Sesame Street was ruining America's youth.

They had been hanging out in school for months, and Dean drove Cas home each day, and finally, one day, Sam had an after school program and it was just the two of them in the car.

"Dean?" Cas asked him, intensely serious, "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, Cas, anything." Dean glanced at him, trying to get his heartbeat to slow down.

"Can I smoke in here?"

"Uuuuuuhhh…" Well, that was not what I was expecting to hear,he thought, feeling disappointed, "You smoke?"

"Yeah. I'm bad, baby," Cas grinned, "It's cool if you don't want it in your car, though."

"No, you can, just roll down the window, and if you burn the interior, understand that I will kill you," Dean said, "I'm not gonna judge, I've been known to have a smoke or two after the magical number of beers."

Cas lit a cigarette, took a few drags, before commenting, "I can see you having a few beers, but you don't seem like the type to go further than that."

"Oh, trust me, I've been lit up in my time. Ask Lisa, or Jo."

"Pot?"

"Nope. I drink, smoke a cigarette now and then, but nothing harder. Pot makes people dumb."

"Do you think I'm dumb?" Cas looked at him sharply.

"Do you smoke pot?" Dean was honestly surprised.

"Yeah." Cas ashed casually out the window, took another careful drag.

"Have you considered stopping?" Dean tried to focus on the road and not the pink lips pursed around the filter.

"I can stop any time I want. I just don't want to. It's nice. Keeps me grounded."

"How often are you stoned?" he was desperately trying to ignore the cheeks flushed from the wind, hollowing around the cigarette.

"Generally, all the time. Do you know what the difference is, between a drunk and a stoner?"

'What's that?"

"A drunk plows right though the stoplight, the stoner waits for it to turn green. Fuck, stop sign. Waits for the stop sign to... Fuck," Cas blushed, cheeks deepening from pink to crimson.

Dean cracked up. "It's funnier, that way."

"Doesn't help me look smart." Cas smiled ruefully.

"Naw, you're smart. I think you're funny, anyways, when you're not trying to be. You're clever, even if you're a fuckin' pothead."

They had reached Cas's house, and Cas hesitated before exiting the vehicle, "Do you wanna come in? My mom works late, so you could hang out until whenever, if you wanted."

Dean looked at Cas mock-seriously, "Are you going to peer pressure me into getting high?"

"No peer pressure, I promise. That's not how I roll," Cas smiled.

"Okay, then." Dean smiled back, and they went inside.

"Tea?" Cas asked, filling a metal pot with water.

"Sure." They left the water to boil and went into Cas's room.

Cas's room was small, but had an intensely comfortable vibe for Dean. The walls were a warm green, the bed a thick mattress on the floor with navy flannel sheets. There was an overstuffed bookcase, mostly full of Vonnegut, but Dean also saw CS Lewis, and a lot of classic novels, Paradise Lost, Dante's Inferno, a worn Gideon's Bible. There was an old computer in the corner sitting in between enormous speakers. Dean noted with appreciation the Zeppelin and Pink Floyd posters, and with amusement, the various pop punk boy band posters.

"I like it in here," Dean said, "It's exactly what I'd expect from you." He flopped down onto the mattress.

"Thanks, I think," Cas said, "It's not much, I know. My dad… He, uh, he left us, a long time ago. I don't remember him at all, actually, and my mom isn't around much. She's got a job at the diner til late most nights, and she works at the gas station most mornings, so I don't see her a lot. But we keep our heads above water."

"What's she like?" Dean asked.

"Nice, I guess. Religious. The only time we really spend together is going to church, Sundays. She'd be strict, I think, if she was around more, or if she knew how I really am. She thinks the gay emo kid thing is just my way of getting attention."

"Isn't it?" Dean looked at the other boy, with his black ensemble and kohl-lined eyes. Inside, his brain was going, Casisgaycasisgaycasisgay!

"No, it's how I feel. Dark. Strange. Like I'm not supposed to be a part of this world." Cas fidgeted a little, then looked towards the kitchen, "The water's boiling. I'll be right back. Green tea? I'm a green tea fanatic."

"Green is good," Dean wasn't actually sure what green tea was, but this was the first time Cas had ever invited him in, and he didn't want to fuck it up.

He followed Cas into the kitchen, and while Cas assembled teabags and honey in mugs, Dean took one of the dish towels lying in a neat pile by the sink and wet it. He moved to stand right behind Cas, and when he turned around curiously, Dean said, "Close your eyes. Hold still."

Cas obeyed, and the trust he displayed pleased Dean, making his stomach curl up in an odd, warm fashion. Dean laid the towel over first one eye, then the other, wiping off the thick eyeliner.

When he was finished, he said, "Open them."

Cas blinked, his eyelashes stuck together, his face reddened by the heat of the towel.

"You don't like the makeup?"

"You're pretty without it," Dean said, and put two fingers gently under Cas's chin, tilting it up, "You have amazing eyes."

Cas looked uncomfortable. "I think they're strange. Owlish."

"Beautiful," Dean smiled, and leaned down, brushing his lips across Cas's. They were full, and soft, and he tasted like cigarettes and honey. He was hesitant at first, but then Cas closed his eyes and moved closer to him, his hand finding their way to the small of Dean's back. Dean increased the pressure, feeling Cas part for him, allow him to flick his tongue across the bottom, letting him take it between his own lips and suck it into his mouth briefly. Dean moved his hands down Cas's waist, pulling his hips tight against Dean's, hooking his fingers through the loops of the skinny jeans, pleased to feel the pliant body fitting against his exactly right.

They stood, trading soft nips and licks, learning the way their mouths went together, experimentally rolling and melding their tongues. Cas groaned into his mouth, and Dean slid one hand through the shaggy black hair, holding his head in place, and took control of Cas completely, pushing him back against the counter, feeling the arousal pressing against the skin tight jeans, against Dean's own hardness. It was perfect, sweet, everything Dean had always thought a kiss should be, what he'd wanted to happen since he discovered sex.

He slid one hand down, cupping Cas's bottom, squeezing for a moment. Cas moaned again, and encouraged, he moved it around to the front. As his fingers brushed the zipper, Cas pushed him back suddenly.

"No, I can't- Uh, I'm sorry, I just can't, not-"

Confused, Dean allowed Cas to separate them, but held onto Cas's hands, letting their cupped palms be the barrier between them.

"It's okay, just tell me what's wrong?" he asked, confused, "Don't you like me?"

Cas let out a choked laugh. "Like you? I liked you forever, Dean, but you had girlfriends, you didn't talk to me, we weren't… Yeah, I like you. I just… I've only had one boyfriend, a guy from Bible Camp, and it… It didn't end well. I just can't… I don't want to rush into things. I need this to be slow."

Dean sighed in relief. "Slow, I can do. I really like you, Cas, I want this to be good, for both of us."

They hung out a while longer, listening to music, kissing lightly, but avoiding the heat from before.

Dean was about to reluctantly say goodbye when the music abruptly changed from Zeppelin to something else, something deeply disturbing.

You're on the phone with your girlfriend ‒ she's upset,
She's going off about something that you said,
'cause she doesn't get your humor like I do.

I'm in the room ‒ it's a typical Tuesday night,
I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like,
She'll never know your story like I do.

"What the hell is this?" Dean asked, grimacing.

"Guilty pleasure. Taylor Swift. Don't hate," Cas smiled, and pulled Dean's head down for another lazy kiss.

"Seriously. This is god-awful." Dean kissed him back, but then stood, "I have to head home before dinner hits. But I'll see you tomorrow." He walked to the door, then turned, "Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know, I'm not going to be messing around with anyone else."

Cas looked happy as Dean left.

They made it to January without incident.

"Well, fuck you. How the fuck would you know what my life is like? What the hell do you think got me through, kept me going? And you want me to just throw that shit away because we're high on hormones instead? Fuck you!"

"Cas, calm the fuck down. I'm not even asking you to quit, just cut back, it's not good for you to always be numb, that's all I'm saying!"

"That wasn't how you presented it, fucking stop that shit or you're gone! That's what you said!"

"I was upset, I'm sorry, I didn't- Fuck, Cas, get back in the car! What the hell, dude, are you just gonna walk-"

"Fuck you, Dean, I don't need rides in your fucking piece of shit car, and I don't fucking need you!"

"Dude. That was just uncalled for. You can fucking walk, bitch. My car is not a piece of shit."

"Dean, I came here to say I'm really sorry, and you were right, I should quit smoking pot, you were- who's that?"

"Uhhhhhmmm, it's Lisa. We're studying for-"

"She's in her bra."

"Research?"

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester. Just… Fuck you."

It was February 13th, and the school was having a pep rally. Cas was sulking on the top, back row of the bleachers, more miserable than he'd ever been. The Glee Club was singing something upbeat, but the song didn't even register. He hated everything, hated school, hated Dean, hated just having to be alive every day.

"Next, we have a special performance from Dean Winchester!" Mr. Kripke announced as Glee Club filed offstage.

Wait, what? Cas looked up as Dean plugged in an acoustic guitar, Dean plays guitar? How did I not know this?

"Um, hi. I'm kinda new at guitar, so don't make fun of me, okay?" Dean smiled awkwardly, his eyes scanning the crowd.

Cas felt his heart trying to climb up his esophagus. Is he looking for me?

"Um. So. I wanna dedicate this song to someone I really messed things up with. Yeah. Seriously, if any of you make fun of me, I will find you, and I will hurt you." Dean cleared his throat, and looked directly, unmistakably at Cas.

"We were both young, when I first saw you, I close my eyes, and the flashback starts, I'm standing there, on the balcony in summer air…"

Cas felt his eyes start to burn with tears. He learned to play guitar to play me a Taylor Swift song, in front of the whole fucking school. Holy shit, he is a terrible singer, but that is all sorts of fucking awesome.

"It's a love story, baby just say yes..." Dean finished, and the gymnasium was silent. There was some scattered clapping, and Dean blushed bright red.

"Yeah, so… Dude, I'm really sorry. I fucked up. Please forgive me, and uh, be my valentine?" he was still looking right at Cas. Students were whipping their heads around to see who Dean meant.

Cas couldn't do anything but nod, and he stood shakily and made his way down the bleachers.

Dean broke out into a huge, wide grin when he saw him coming, and at some point, they started running, and then they were kissing, and someone yelled, "Gross! Gaaaaay!" but they didn't give a fuck, because they were kissing and together and that was all that mattered.

"So, I got us a room for after prom. If you want to," Dean said casually, as they lay on Cas's bed together, "We don't have to, you know, go all the way, or anything, but it might be nice to go chill out after the dance."

"I'd like that," Cas smiled, "Oh, hey. That reminds me, I got my tux yesterday."

"Do they make skinny jean tuxes?" Dean laughed.

Cas looked mildly embarrassed, "…Yes. Yes, they do."

They only stayed at the dance a few hours, then left quietly.

Dean parked the Impala at the beach, and they got out, champagne bottles in hand. The moon was full and bright, and the sand sparkled back up at it joyfully.

After the second bottle was empty, Cas found Dean laying on top of him, warm lips working their way down the side of his neck, stopping to allow the soft, wet tongue out to toy at each curve of skin. It felt amazing, comfortable, and when Dean shifted to move his mouth lower, Cas didn't object, let him push up his shirt, and apply the lips to his chest, and navel.

"Thbbbbt!" Dean blew a raspberry on his stomach, and Cas dissolved in giggles.

"You're so fucking weird," Cas smiled down, running his thumb along Dean's cheek. Dean grinned, and kissed Cas's hip softly.

"Is this okay?" he asked, green eyes gentle.

"Yeah," Cas breathed, and Dean popped the buttons of his skinny jeans open. He ran his hand along the waistband, and pushed them down, and Cas was glad once again that he never wore underwear. If genitals could leap, his cock would have jumped straight into Dean's mouth, but luckily, since all Cas could do was strain forward, Dean was there in the clinch to kiss the tip softly, and then enveloping the head in his mouth, his full lips working around the sensitive ridge, his tongue teasing along the bottom seam.

Cas could feel Dean's fingers clutching at his hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles, and then moaned as one hand moved to stroke his shaft, as Dean kept slowly running his tongue along the slit, down and back up. Cas was lost in how good it felt, how tender Dean was with him, his body vibrating with the need for Dean to move faster.

"Please…" he gasped out, and then whimpered as Dean moved his hand down to cup his balls and took Cas entirely into his mouth. The heat and wetness were intoxicating, "Oh, god…" Cas mewled, and looked down to see Dean's nose buried in the dark curls, brilliant eyes looking up at him, pink lips wet around Cas's cock.

Dean sped up, and Cas was wrecked, thrusting up into his mouth, making insane whimpers, begging for something, anything, for it to never stop, for release, he wasn't sure. He couldn't remember anything else, ever, except Dean's hands and mouth driving him over the edge.

"I'm gonna-" he started to say, and Dean hummed in affirmation, and that was it, Cas was gone, feeling the tremors running up his cock, shivering his spine and causing his world to dissolve into hot, white, light. He finally felt complete.

Evetually, he came back down to Earth, and there was Dean, resting his head on Cas's hip, smiling at him.

"Hey." Dean kissed his hip softly.

"Hey." Cas smiled back.

"Wanna go to the motel?"

"Yeah."

Dean looked at the boy sprawled in front of him. Skinny jeans and suit jacket lay crumpled on the floor, and they romped in a fort of soft, white sheets, naked and happy.

Cas was spread for him, flushed and panting, writhing down onto Dean's fingers, coming undone under his touch. Dean still could hardly believe that this beautiful boy was his, all his.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and the blue eyes that flew open didn't need the accompanying, impatient YES, because they were so full of desperate need. Dean slicked himself up, and moved close. He rubbed against Cas's opening, and almost came just from watching the pink, wet, puckered opening slowly take him in. Cas was hot, and Dean could feel his muscles flutter around the head of his cock.

"More…" Cas whimpered, and Dean tried to go slow, he really did, but then Cas was arching up against him, pulling his chest down against Cas's and his cock as deep into him as possible. Cas was thrusting up against him, his cock twitching between their bodies, and Dean wrapped his hand around it, pumped it, and let himself explode into Cas, chanting his name over and over. As he came, he could swear he heard the riff from Whole Lotta Love playing in his ears.

"That was… Fuck, Cas, it was… fuck."

"Yeah. It was."

"Hey, Cas?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

"I know."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Fucker."

"I love you too."