Epilogue – Five Years Later

A whole five years, he reflected. Amazed by the achievement of something so mundane.

Sitting at the edge of a motel bed, Dean waited for his brother, Jody, and Cas to return from their respective research assignments of their current case. Marrying Cas had not made either of them home-bodies, that was for damn sure. Dean wasn't the sit-idly-by kind of man, not even as he got older. Every single person they saved was a notch on the plus side that he still desperately needed after all this time. There was a running tally going for him: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

If he were a sports stat, he was still way in the negative. But each hunt brought him a little closer. And with that, he felt a new measure of peace somewhere inside he might think was the worn construction of his soul.

Fortunately, successful hunts weren't the only way to achieve a new checkmark in the plus column—every time he made Cas smile, or elicit from him that hitching-choppy-breath thing during sex, or ease the angel into sleep with a stellar massage—all of that, too, gave him peace. Or at the very least, unparalleled happiness that settled him like nothing else.

Today, remarkable as it was, happened to be their anniversary. And how damn crazy was that? Dean had to admit, he was pretty good at the whole married thing. Complete with expected bumps along the way. Of course, he still had wicked nightmares, and occasionally freaked out during sex, or on a particularly rough hunt, but overall he'd reached the best place possible given his past.

He and Sammy made time to go have beers together, and had real conversations, and all that healthy shit. It was a miracle. He wondered at times if all that shit hadn't gone down with Abaddon, whether he and Sam would've ever been this close. Following that line of thought, would he and Cas be friggin' married?

Probably not.

God, just imagining not being able to touch Cas anytime he wanted would be hard. And worse, having to hide his adoration with every side glance would be a trial all its own.

In that first year, Cas had eventually told him everything. Starting with Cas' own conversation with God the night Dean had died, the plan set in place to fix Metatron's spell, and how hilarious it was that Chuck was such a freaking sap. They could laugh about it now, but once in a while, between Dean and Sam, they reflected on what a close call it had all been.

Dean doing the married gig? Shit, anyone who'd known him at all would have said it was a long shot. Cas was different, though. Always had been.

Like a great big cosmic circle, they were back in Cincinatti where Dean had been when he'd gotten wasted and collapsed in the alley, mere blocks from where they were now. The night Cas had gotten inside him the first time, in a very non-porno kinda way.

How nice of the monsters to make their anniversary so perfect, right?

It was too bad they were stuck in the middle of a case for it, but work was work, and when lives were at stake it wasn't like they could take a vacation whenever the damn hell they wanted.

When the hunting business was slow, Sam and Jody tended to take off by themselves for a week or two and Dean was thrilled to see his baby brother so happy, living life the fullest a hunter can. Over the years, Sam had gradually eased into Bobby's old role, becoming a hub for hunters and jobs, and even the go-to call for fake FBI managers.

He and Cas on the other hand were a heck of a lot more low-key. They hunted, and they went back home and spent downtime together in between. Dean hated to fly, and Cas had seen the world many times over so their desire to travel was pretty well non-existent.

Instead, they watched movies—Dean finding it endlessly entertaining to introduce the guy to things he'd never seen before, or urge him to read books that Dean had loved when he was younger.

They no longer felt the weight of the greater supernatural world around them, but were simply a cog in the neverending mechanics of crazy and weird that he now recognized as inevitable in its endlessness. And after five years of daily love and support, Dean was happier with himself than he'd ever thought possible.

Dean let his mind drift, thinking back on his relationship with Cas, and each amazing anniversary they'd celebrated from then until now.

…

The first anniversary, Cas had taken him fishing, commenting that after their shared dream, he thought it was important they partake in the real thing. At a rented cottage by a lake, they spent a couple days drinking beer and sitting on a dock with lines in the water. It was there he taught Cas how to swim in the still icy waters of May. Cold swimming had led to warming up…which lead to forgetting about the dropped lines and ultimately losing the fishing rods that got pulled into the water. Regardless, the next morning, they'd woken with sore limbs and crusty bedsheets and couldn't care less about the forgotten activities of the previous day. They spent the day eating good food, watching old movies, and making out with slow, building passion.

In the serene comfort of the evening, with crickets curving the quiet, the two of them had sat on the screened in porch and chatted easily about lore, debating the best methods for kills. It was that night that Cas tried to teach Dean a little more Enochian. By their fifth anniversary, he would be fluent.

When the flow of their conversation slowed and their eyes lingered, Dean decided to bust out his real gift. He was nervous as he walked out to the car to grab his guitar from the backseat. During his recovery, one tune had stuck with him, had supported his path forward and over the long year and a bit since then, he'd perfected his performance of it. Cas deserved nothing less.

Castiel's shadowed blue eyes followed his movements as he climbed back up the porch steps and stepped through the spring-hinged door.

They didn't say a single word to each other, a sole look enough to convey the emotion between them. Dean unclipped the case and sat down on the chair that sat at an angle to Castiel's place on the porch swing. It was pleasantly amusing when Cas drew his knees up and rested his feet on the edge of the seat, as though he were getting himself all comfortable for Dean's performance.

Checking each string to ensure every note was perfectly tuned, he glanced down at the ground—for a moment trying to see past the wood, the dirt, the crust of the earth to the space below. Adjusting his position, placing his hands and fingers in the right places, he raised his face and met Cas' eyes.

"We both know I was never really all that good with words, so, I'm going to sing to you. And, uh, I hope I'm not awful." Dean smiled, knowing that Cas would love whatever he did anyway because that was Cas.

As he kicked off the opening riff, a soft placement of high and low notes that rang beautifully in the air, he was practiced enough that he could watch Cas' reaction instead of what his fingers were doing. The former angel's eyes fluttered as he took in the music, and his attention shifted between Dean's face and the confident way he played the instrument.

Pouring every aspect of himself into the song, he began to sing: "So close, no matter how far. Couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are…and nothing else matters…"

The song flowed and increased its presence between them, his strumming growing louder, his voice a deep smooth addition to the song. There wasn't a lot Dean Winchester was proud of himself for, but this was definitely one of the things he was. All the hours spent ensuring the pitch and timing of his singing was just right, and that each chord and each note was exactly as it should be.

"Never opened myself this way… Life is ours, we live it our way." Dean smiled as he played. "All these words I don't just say, and nothing else matters."

On the seat across from him, Cas had rested his chin on his knees and was smiling in a gentle way that he found utterly breathtaking. The song slowed to the end and Dean wondered, not for the first time, how he'd managed to gain such happiness.

That night, on the creaky, wooden porch floor on a pile made up of every blanket the cottage had, Cas made love to him with exquisite patience. Building his arousal to a tender apex of desperation, kissing him with a sinful tongue, lapping into his open mouth as Cas moved between his legs in a mind-blowing pattern of snappy thrusts, and slow, dragging fucks that left Dean breathless.

…

The second year they'd had to stick around for a hunt, which had turned out to be ghouls and a serious close call for Dean. There was a scar still on the inner part of his right arm from where one of them had successfully snagged a bite. Needless to say, Castiel and Sam had rescued him—both of them taking obvious pleasure in obliterating the thing.

After that, it was all about making sure Dean was okay and normal anniversary good times sort of got shoved to the side in favour of ensuring he wasn't hopping back on the crazy train. Granted, holing up in bed for basically an entire day will sort of give that impression. Thankfully, one day of resetting his neurotic levers and buttons was all he'd needed. That and a little Dr. Phil time with Sammy.

A week or so after that particular anniversary, Dean had been rummaging through his pile of crap on the desk in his room and found a worn book about possession that had fallen behind the desk and gotten lost among the wires, waste bin, pens, and dust that had collected. Tucked in the middle was a piece of paper. Dean slid it out and unfolded the lined sheet.

Skimming across his own hand-writing he sat down and read through it all. It was one of Sam's past attempts at psychiatry—having Dean write a letter to his future self. He'd managed to forget all about it.

Remembering where his head had been at when he'd written it brought down his whole mood, the room growing somber with the pain of the past. Taking his own advice, Dean had burned the thing, imagining it was some vengeful spirit, the flames getting rid of it forever.

Days after, Dean was still rattled and found himself pulling away from Cas, Jody and Sam. It was Jody that had finally found him downstairs in the gym one afternoon, plying him with promises of sandwiches and beer if he'd open up to her. It wasn't often he did, and it had taken a long time to be close with her. Not because he hadn't liked her, but for all the reasons he was still ashamed to say.

"Your family is worried about you," she'd begun, passing him the plate of food.

Dean took it and dug in as he met her eyes with a shrug.

"What's going on Dean?"

All about the mental health crap BS, Dean swallowed his bite and told her the truth. "Back, uh, you know before…when I would talk to Sam a lot. He, uh, asked me once to write a letter my future self. It took some convincing on his part, but I did and I never thought I really kept it, but I must've and I found it the other day, and I'm just-I'm having a hard time shaking this, like, resurging connection to that version of myself. I didn't want to say anything to Sam or Cas. I've been hoping it was just, ya know, go away or something."

"But it hasn't?"

"Not exactly. I mean, I'm fine Jody. Really. You don't need to worry, I'm just feeling off, that's all."

Taking a seat on the other bench, she turned to him with all her attention. "There's nothing wrong with that. You're allowed to have days where you're not completely, one hundred percent okay. That's life Dean. In the meantime, I'll bring you delicious food. I know Cas can't cook for shit."

Dean laughed, throwing his head back. Damn, it was true too. Cas was like Ramsay's worse nightmare in the kitchen. Even now, Dean still felt bad about the horrid apple pie that Cas had attempted to make. The crust was, like, chewy somehow. How his damn hubby had managed that one was anyone's guess. To save Cas' feelings, he'd tried to eat it, but after that awful first bite, he just couldn't hold up the farce. Poor guy had been crushed, wanting so badly to be "the perfect spouse" or whatever. Despite the bad dessert, the whole thing had been pretty damn adorable, not that Dean said as such out loud.

"Man, remember that pie?" he said.

Jody snorted. "How could I not?! And that omelet he made Sam once with pickled beets?" Both of them cringed and shivered at the memory. The egg construction had been pink and it ranked. Evidently combining flavours and ingredients was quite beyond Cas' skills. But give him some plain fruit and veggies and he was good to go. Berry salads with whipped cream dressing was about the only dessert that Dean allowed him to create.

It had only taken another couple days for Dean to feel himself again, and true to her word, Jody had fed him well the entire time; all lasagna's and pancakes and burgers. At night Cas rubbed his back and kissed him, and despite Cas' never-ending randyness, he kept it all in his pants until Dean was back to normal. Granted, when they eventually did end up fooling around, Cas made an incredible performance as a sixteen year old and came within a minute of getting inside him. Dean had made fun of him all night for that one.

…

Two years ago, they'd gotten in a fight days before their anniversary. Cas had gone all Rambo on some secluded leftover Leviathan they'd come across, nearly getting himself eaten and Dean had been pissed. Course, he'd taken his anger to his brother first.

"My freakin' husband is being a goddamn suicidal maniac!" Dean had clipped off, storming into Sam's room one Thursday night after they'd gotten back from the hunt.

"I take it the hunt went great!" said Sam sarcastically.

"Oh yeah. Awesome, Sammy. Really, I love watching Cas nearly die. Does amazing things for my mental stability. F-Y-I, you and Jody might want to wear ear plugs tonight cause I'm probably going to have some stupid ass nightmare."

His brother made a face. "Yeah, it's not for your nightmares that we have earplugs, Dean."

"Whatever. I'm telling you, he went off and tried to handle the stupid thing by himself. Obviously we hadn't been expecting friggin' Leviathan so we had none of that Borax crap, just a shotgun and a knife each. I ran back to the car to get one of our machetes to lop off its head and I come back and Cas is trying to fight the thing with his bare hands!"

"Dean, he wasn't being suicidal, he was holding down the fort while you went to get the right weapon. What did you expect him to do?"

Scrunching his face as if it were obvious, Dean said, "Follow me!"

"And risk losing it altogether?"

"Yes! Who cares if we have to go at it one more time? I'd rather that than Cas be dumb and get killed. Could you imagine?! Fuck no. I'm better, but I ain't that level of better. All of you are just not allowed to die, okay? Ever."

"Dean," Sam droned. "One day, one of us will die. One day you'll die, and it's taken me a long time to be okay with it, but you'll have to be okay with it too. Cas was doing his job—our job. That's the way this life is. We're hunters, always have been, and it's dangerous, but that's just the way it is. If it really bothers you, you don't have to be a hunter anymore. You and Cas can do whatever you want—whatever makes you both happy. I would never judge you for giving up the life. We both now I was desperate for it more than a few times. Hell, I let you rot in purgatory when I tried on a normal life for size."

"That turned out well, didn't it?"

"Seriously. It's possible."

The unexpected suggestion plagued him for hours after. When he found Cas in their room later on, he couldn't help but let the silence scream on. Naturally, it was Cas who spoke up as they were getting ready for bed amidst the awkward tension.

"I don't understand why you're mad at me."

"Because you were reckless."

"No more than you've been before. We've had close calls before this, even after…after what happened. Why was this time different? Was it because it was the Leviathan, or something else?"

It took Dean a while, standing there with his shirt bunched in his arms and his boxers low on his hips, he thought back to the split-second he stormed into the room and seen the dredge of purgatory open its mouth for Cas. It wasn't the potential for death that had truly bothered him—not in that moment anyway. It had been the look on Cas' face before he'd realized Dean was there to save him, that terrifying breadth of finality. The horror of his widened eyes that he might die. Of all the times Cas had died, or been close to death, Dean had never seen him afraid. This time had been different.

"You were scared," he said eventually.

Cas studied him. "Of course I was scared. I thought-I thought I might die and lose you. Don't mistake me, I know this is who you are: The Hunter, The Righteous Man, The Selfless Leader. And I love everything about you and I would never give up what we do because every now and then I get scared."

"What if I wanted to?"

"Wanted to what? Quit?"

"Yeah."

Meeting his stare, Cas went still, considering the suggestion and no doubt wondering how best to answer. "Do you really think you'd be happy working a nine-to-five job?"

"Probably not."

"Do you think I would?"

Thinking back on Cas' brief stint as Steve the convenience store worker, Dean smiled. "Actually, I think you would. I think you would be happier."

"I enjoy saving people, Dean."

"And if something ever happened to one of us, to Sam? To Jody? What then?"

Castiel pulled his shirt off over his head and rounded the end of the bed to Dean's side and took the Henley still held in his hands and tossed both with the rest of their mound of dirty laundry. Throwing his arms around Dean's neck, Cas leaned into him, brushing their lips together.

"Death is not the end. Not for humans, Dean. Heaven exists for you, for us. Nothing, not even death now, will keep us apart. I promise you that."

The fight was over but Dean had remained unsure about Cas' claim. Why would Heaven accept him after all he'd done? Was Cas being human now even the same as being born human? How was he so sure that they'd both end up together?

When their three year anniversary rolled around, he woke up to find Castiel sitting cross-legged on the bed, beaming at him.

"Happy Anniversary!" he'd said with delight.

Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Happy Anniversary," he mumbled back.

"I have something for you."

Out of habit, Dean glanced down at his crotch. Cas laughed and smacked his chest. "Not that! At least, not yet."

He couldn't help the little frown that tugged down his mouth. Morning sex was a favourite. It was always lazy and uncoordinated and he friggin' loved it.

"We're going on a short excursion. Put some clothes on."

Dean whined. "Ya know, getting dressed is like the last thing we should be doing on our anniversary."

"It'll be worth it," promised Cas.

Fine. Throwing the blankets off, noting the heady scent and making a mental note that it would all need washing soon, he scoured the room for clothes. Neither of them were exactly tidy. And, usually, he could find a worn and comfy pair of jeans hanging from the dresser drawer or draped over the desk chair that now sat against the wall by the door. Every item of clothing was collectively "theirs". The only thing Dean never threw on was Cas' suit or beige trench.

Well…except for that one time when he'd decided to put on the coat and nothing else. The fond memory of doing Cas on top of it played across his mind as he finished getting ready for whatever Cas had planned.

"Now what?" he asked when he was moderately presentable.

Almost with an ominous nature, Cas stared for a long moment. And then there was a knock on the door; Cas grinned.

Dean was cautious as he approached the thing, turning the handle slow and drawing it open. There was a woman on the other side. One he didn't recognize.

"Hi Dean. Cas," she greeted; polite enough.

Before Dean could respond, Cas had come over to stand by him, threading their fingers together. "Hello Hannah."

Shit. That was Hannah? It was a little stupid that he felt jealous, but he'd always kind of known she had a bit of a thing for Cas. Well, jokes on you lady, he's mine!

As if she could hear his claim, she smiled knowingly at him, and extended her hand. "Are you both ready?"

Though Cas nodded eagerly, Dean froze. "Cas, what's going on?"

Looking into his green eyes, Castiel tipped his head and moved in a little closer. "Trust me."

They were too far down the path of friendship, lovers, and marriage for him not to, so he grabbed Hannah's palm and tried not to panic about whatever unknown was on the horizon.

All at once, he felt the familiar sensation of being relocated by an angel with wings. When they reappeared in a new location, it was his old childhood home that dominated his field of vision.

"Cas?" he said in a strained voice. Hannah, he noticed, was gone.

"I wanted you to see for yourself."

"See what?"

"That soulmates have eternity together."

It was just then that the front door opened and his mom and dad strolled out and the second they saw him, they each took off down the steps and nearly raced each other to his arms.

The warmth of his parents flooded around him and Dean was lost. Confused. And the only thing that grounded him was looking over his Dad's shoulder and seeing Cas there smiling warmly at him.

Battling against the tears that tried to break free, Dean mouthed his thanks for whatever strings Cas had pulled to arrange this—it couldn't have been easy.

Spending a couple hours in Heaven with his parents in their little slice of eternity had calmed a lot in his soul that he hadn't realized had still been rocked with unrest and worry.

When they'd laid in bed late that night, he told Cas what he had always feared. "I wasn't sure that they were together. Ash hadn't found them."

"Heaven is a very big place, I'm afraid. Even angels have a hard time finding those in it, as I'm sure you remember."

"And we'll get that? You really think after we both kick the bucket, we'll wind up in some celestial bunker spending our days fooling around and watching movies and stuff?"

"I'm sure of it."

"And you won't get sick of me?" he wondered, throwing his arms back and allowing Cas to drag his nails along the skin lightly, tracing the pattern of his veins barely visible beneath his tanned skin.

Surprising him, Cas laughed pretty hard. "I'm quite certain that's impossible."

Looking over, Dean grinned over at Cas and wound up smirking with heavy-loaded insinuation. "It's still our anniversary, we should probably have sex."

"Hmm, yes, we should."

"Can I make a request?"

"Always."

"Do me slow and hot like that first time."

Cas hadn't responded with words, but with a playful grin as he rolled over on top of Dean and captured his hands above his head, peering down into his eyes.

…

Last year, Dean made Cas dinner and then drove them out to the same cabin they spent three weeks at after getting hitched, spending four days basically naked. Probably would have gone on longer if Sam hadn't called saying that shit was going down in some buttfuck nowhere town and they were needed. Crazy-ass witches it turned out.

It was after that last anniversary that Dean had managed the longest stretch without any problems. Unfortunately, this had made him over-confident. Imagining even that he was fully cured of his past, knowing what he told himself was a lie.

It was a blissful string of months that carried on, full of smiles and family moments and killing things that needed to be killed and incredible orgasms and back massages. And all of it teased a normal life, a normal version of himself. It made the nightmare he'd had three weeks ago seem about a thousand times worse as a result of its drastic disruption to the easy-peasy way his life had been going.

The nightmare had been brought on by Cas' absence. He was sure of it. Jody and Cas had gone on a case, leaving the day before Sam and Dean had gotten back from their own monster hunt. Because of the overlap, he'd had to go two whole weeks without Cas—a time span he hadn't had to suffer through before. At least, not since they'd been together.

Three weeks prior…

Dean had woken on the mattress tossing wild punches at Sam—obviously having come into the room to wake him up only to be met by a still sleeping nightmare-ridden brother. A black eye and a bag of ice for both of them later, and they headed back down to old territory to hash it out.

"Haven't had one like that in a good while," observed Sam.

Still agitated, Dean simply nodded, the stench of his sweat still thick in his nose.

"What was it about?"

"Same old…"

"One or two?" This was his and Sam's code for Dean's different versions of fuckery. One meant him doing bad shit, two meant bad shit done to him. They were triggered by different things. Lingering sensations or thoughts still cropped up on him from time to time. For the most part, Cas was good at distracting him and setting him right again. But after a long stretch of good times, the break back to these kind of nightmares was hard to handle.

He was quiet for a minute. "One," he answered with guilt tightening his throat. In the last five years, he'd uttered the word two more than one, and he hated feeling weak about it even after all this time.

"Anything specific?"

Dean leaned back in the chair, grabbing the end of the armrest as he mulled over his nightmare and searched for the right way to explain. "Uh, just bad, Sammy, I don't want to get into details. It was just…yeah…not good."

"You were saying her name when I came into the room," Sam noted.

"Doesn't surprise me. I was…" Letting out a low curse, he continued, "I was fucking encouraging her." Dean had to close his eyes and swallow back the pain of shame and guilt.

"It was just a nightmare, a depiction of something that frightens you. But it's not at all who you are."

"You know what really frightens me, Sammy?"

"What?"

"That, sometimes, I think about her and I wonder what I'd do if she were suddenly standing in front of me."

Sam snorted. "You'd find some way to kill her, that's what."

It was Dean's long silence after that had Sam starting to look worried. Dean braced himself to continue. Even after so long, this fear rode high up over all the rest. It was one that had been bothering him since the beginning of his recovery. "I wouldn't," said Dean.

"Of course you would. Even if it was impossible, you'd at least try. I know you would!"

Closing his eyes, Dean imperceptibly shook his head. "I'd drop to my knees…" Dean admitted, not able to look his brother in the face after that god-awful truth.

Sam's voice was steely. "No you wouldn't Dean."

"You don't get it, Sammy. I'm-I'm better, really. I know that. I've got you guys—a family. I've got Cas. I wake up happy more days than I don't. But the thing is, I'm telling you, if I saw her right now and she looked at me, I'd go down. The hard-wiring to be her toy, her play thing, her vessel for fun is buried in here"—Dean patted his chest—"it's muted and I can ignore it, but sure as the way you felt Azazel's blood in you is the way I still feel her in me." And there were rare moments, Dean tacked on silently, where he was sure her rage boiled up from the depths of hell and lanced at him—the sharp lash of her sense of betrayal breaching through the dimensions to remind him what would happen if she ever managed to escape.

His awareness of his surroundings had muffled as he spoke and it startled him when Sam reached over and closed a hand around his forearm. "After all these years Dean, and all the talks we've had, and everything I know about what happened, I can tell you that I am one-hundred-and-fifty-percent sure that you wouldn't succumb to her. You're still scared and it makes sense that what you fear most would seem plausible to you, but that doesn't make it truth. And anyway, even if, in some ridiculous possibility that you did, briefly, lose yourself and…give it up to her…Cas, and Jody and me would be right there to get you up. We make each other strong now, Dean. You've always been there for me when I needed you, even when I didn't want your help. The worst of your nightmare is over, but I'm still here. We're all still here."

Damn, this conversation was more intense that he'd been planning on when he'd followed Sam into the bowels of the bunker for a resurge of their little chats to help get past his nightmare. Hearing Sam's vow, not for the first time that he would always be there—no matter what—was always met with a twinge of resistance on Dean's part. The one terrible memory that concerned his brother was still an unacknowledged and unspoken black mark over their relationship. He always wondered what Sam thought of him because of it. Maybe today was the day to bring it up. There was no one else in the bunker, Cas wouldn't be home and therefore Dean wouldn't have to explain why for the first time in a long while he wouldn't want to be touched.

"Look, there's something I need to say, that I need to get off my chest before it eats away at me forever. I need you to shut up and listen, okay? I need you to not say a damn weird when I say this, either before, during, or after. When I'm done, let's just pretend this conversation never happened, okay?"

Wisely, Sam looked down at the floor and said nothing.

Glancing down at his hands around the ends of the chair-arms, Dean was grateful the tight grip staved off tremors. No doubt he'd be all jumpy if he wasn't clinging to the dingy sixties reject.

"As you know already Abaddon utilized everything she could to fuck around with me. Every relationship I'd ever had in my life, she took it and twisted it around for fun. And you know that included you. You know it did, and I know it's the one thing we never talked about and I get it. I do. Trust me, if I could go another five years and ignore it I sure as fuck would, but I never want you to wonder about anything so I need to just out and say it. She used a delusion of you, a…a…a younger version of you. Probably because she knew it would destroy me worse than anything else. But you've got to know she didn't do that because I've got some twisted thing about you. She simply had no boundaries, nothing was off limits. I wasn't then, and I am not now, in any way…like…weird about you or whatever. I swear to God, you are my brother and nothing more and I never want you to think I might've been harbouring some creepy unbrotherly feelings for you. Ever. And I never wanted to have to actually voice all this crap but I feel like you deserve to know for sure, in case you ever, like, wondered. I've never been stellar at mental health and relationships, but I promise you, I was never that messed up. Okay, maybe like for three seconds after I got back and it still felt like she was there, and then it didn't matter whether you were my brother or not, you were just something to toy with. Anyway, I'm probably good to shut up now but I had to get that out. And I'm sorry."

Holy silence, Dean thought. Shit, when he'd asked Sam not to say a word after, he'd meant about the subject at hand, not altogether. Fuck this was weird.

"Holy crap, say something before I lose my mind."

"I never worried about that, Dean. Not once. I knew without asking what she'd done—"

"—Sam! You're not supposed to comment!"

"—Shut up, Dean. It's my turn. The only reason why I always let you skip over it was selfishly because, yeah, it made us both uncomfortable, and I figure you knew that I understood. I didn't know it's been bugging you all these years. I know you don't see me that way. And the feelings mutual, just so you know. We might've had an unhealthy relationship for the majority of our adult life but it wasn't quite that unhealthy." Sam laughed. "Oh man, remember when we stumbled across the fans that, uh, like wrote stories about us together. Man that was gross."

Dean was lost for a response, his tongue laying useless behind his teeth.

"Okaaaaay, moving on…I might ask Jody to marry me." Sam looked sideways at him, notably uncertain.

"Shit, yeah?" Dean smiled, immeasurably grateful for the change in topic—especially something so heartening. "That's awesome Sammy. Guess you're seein' me and my awesome marriage, huh?" he said, half-jokingly, given the fact that his better-half's absence had brought on nightmares. "Gettin' jealous of your older bro, are ya?" he teased, clinging to the change in the air of their conversation.

Sam laughed, full-hearted. "My God… I still can't believe you're married. But in all seriousness, man, you're good to him. Damn better husband than Dad was."

Glancing down, the praise sat oddly on his broad shoulders. "Doesn't always feel that way."

"Every marriage or relationship or whatever has the occasional hiccups. Doesn't mean its bad, Dean. Most of the time you two go through hunts flirting like teenagers, and coming home and shutting up in your room with Cas for like ten hours. And I know neither of you are sleeping—"

"—Hey, we sleep!"

Sam scoffed. "Not based on what I hear coming through your door."

"Oh like you're any better," he bantered back, a smile growing wide.

"Jody and I are discreet," Sam smirked, his face turned high and a little haughty.

Their eyes met for a long minute, mouths turned up at the corners before laughter split free.

After long sighs, Dean shifted around to square himself with Sam. "So, you're gonna pop the question, huh?"

Closing his eyes, Sam nodded. "Yup, it's feeling that way. I wasn't sure for a long time. She's been through a lot in the past, and things were good with us just the way they were. But now, with the years behind us, I find that… I want to call her my wife, I want to see a ring on her finger—You know, I catch you looking at Cas' ring every so often." Sam paused, eyebrows pinching, "Is it weird, sometimes, seeing Dad's wedding ring on Cas?"

It's something his brother had never asked before.

"Nope. I don't even really think about Dad much anymore. I mean, I loved the guy, but what sticks with me the most…why I even bothered to keep wearing that ring all those years was remembering how much dad loved mom. The devotion he had." With that, Dean snorted. "Would'a been awesome if he'd been that devoted, ya know, when she was alive and all. But hey, people have it worse off right?"

Sam deadpanned him. "Worse than us?"

Grinning, Dean couldn't help but shrug. "Oh I'm with ya, I mean, ya we've been put through the ringer," his mind detoured in a breath before swerving back to normal, "and shit's gotten bad, real bad, but there are some people who've got nothin'. And for all the shit I've been dealt, I got you and I got Cas, and Jody. So yeah, there are people worse off."

Conceding to his logic, he watched Sam smile and smooth out the wrinkles in his jogging pants before standing up, likely deciding to head back to sleep.

"You gonna be alright the rest of the night?" he asked, scrutinizing Dean the way he once used to.

"Yeah, I'm not all that tired anymore anyway, gonna watch some Stooges reruns and send Cas a dirty text or something and get my mind off of everything."

Amused, Sam brushed a hand through his long hair, down past his shoulders now—having gotten into the habit of growing it out. It wasn't all that acceptable for a posing FBI agent but Sam's firm countenance and impressive bulk seemed to call peoples tongues back before they said a thing about it.

Before he could head out, Dean shot up from the chair and threw his arms around his brother's larger frame, taking in the familiar smell of his deodorant. Stifling some choking emotions, Dean pushed the words out, the ones he wasn't even sure he'd said more than twice in his life to his brother. "I love you, Sammy," he said, finding he could get it out now that he knew Sam knew everything.

Sam crushed him in the hug, a strange gasp telling how badly he was at showing his brother affection. "I love you too, Dean."

"Sorry I'm crap at this kind of thing," he said as he drew back.

Sam smiled, relieved and happy altogether. "Don't sweat it. You're the best brother a guy could have." Patting Dean once on the shoulder, Sam turned his back and headed down the path between the tables and the filing cabinets and left Dean by himself.

His eyes were drawn to the surface of the rectangular tables down the centre of the long room, remembering that this was where he'd sat and drawn out the tattoo that sat on his back—his vow. Just a name. But it was enough. It said more than most words would have. He remembered clearly how determined he'd felt that day, how full it made his heart to feel the black ink marking him up.

With a dim smile, he remembered when Cas first admitted the greater meaning behind it and why, when the angel had seen it that first time he'd gotten all choked up, beaming and over-excited more than Dean had expected.

It'd been some random night meeting up with V for drinks, having kept in touch with some of those guys that had fought with them.

"You tell him yet?" V asked Cas with a broad grin, the tips of fangs just visible.

"Tell him what?" Cas shifted his gaze from Dean back to V. Dean followed the direction of his blue eyes, wondering what additional secrets Cas might have. At the time, a year and half into the whole married thing, he lithely kicked Cas under the table, shooting him a glare.

"About that tattoo…and what it means?" V alluded, eyes widening, smile inching up more.

Dean tightened his stare at Cas, who looked to the side sheepishly.

"Oh, c'mon!" Dean spouted. "What now?"

Since his formerly-winged significant other seemed to have gone shy on the subject, V jumped right on—straight to the shit just the way Dean liked. "In our world, part of the mating ritual, or marriage as you'd call it, includes the male carving the spouses name into his back. So, in a way, you kinda married the guy before you married the guy, ya feel me?"

"Carved?" Dean repeated.

"Yeah, we're pretty badass that way."

Feeling his brows shoot up, Dean reached over to wrap his hand around Cas' forearm. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought it might upset you."

Dean rolled his eyes, hauled him close by his shirt and kissed him hard on the mouth, hearing V audibly clear his throat across the table.

With his focus returning to the wood tables before him, Dean had pulled out his phone and texted Cas in a way that would distract him from his earlier nightmare and the off-putting conversation with Sam, making full use of the dirty emoji app that he'd downloaded some time ago.

/\/\/\

Back in the present…

The past anniversaries swaying around his thoughts with endless side memories that followed along, Dean stood between the motel beds and the long desk where the TV sat on one side, and a large mirror dominated the wall behind the remaining length of the table.

He really fucking wished they weren't stuck on a case. Five years seemed like a pretty damn big deal. It sucked that he had no real gift this year. Just as he'd been planning on putting his mind to it, the case had dropped in their laps and now he was half-dressed and getting ready to go interrogate the chief coroner about the body that had turned up four days ago sans organs south of the lungs. Personally, he had half a suspicion that the case was more black market organ selling than witchy-monster-y, but the chances were still decent enough that the disembowelment was less 'Shameless Frank needing a booze-ready liver' and more 'extra hungry monster with a penchant for fresh meat'.

The unmistakable sound of the Impala pulled into the space in front of the ground-floor motel room door and Dean automatically smiled. A few months after they curved the onslaught of a new evil, it became quite clear that the Impala and Cas' pimp mobile wasn't enough for four people. Mostly because Cas was the only one who ever drove the tan, hoppin' boat-car. Together, he and Sammy finished repairs on the Thunderbird in the bunkers garage, and that had become Sam's baby. For good luck, they'd carved their initials into the underside of the truck hatch.

Jody had gotten her M license and often took the old chopper for a drive. In fact, it was one pastime that Dean shared with her alone. On clear evenings, leaving their better half's to read away in the bunker, they took Dorothy's old Harley, and the _ for a long cruise, letting the wind flow against their skin. What a good woman, he thought.

The motel room door was pushed open and Dean caught Cas' blue eyes through the mirror. The remarkable blue was not tuned to his face but to the expanse of his back.

"See something you like?" Dean teased, smirking into his own reflection.

In a heated response, Cas bit the corner of his bottom lip and crossed the room in two quick strides. The crisp dress shirt that covered Castiel's arms slid against his sides as Cas closed him in from behind, pulling Dean flush against his chest.

"I'm so happy you haven't left yet," said Cas, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

"How come you're back anyway?"

Moving out of the hold, Cas backed up and sat down on the bed, pulling his suit jacket off at the same time. "I've called in some backup to take over for us."

Dean turned around. "Why would you do that?"

Cas scoffed and leaned back on his arms. "If memory serves today is our five year anniversary. And, actually, it's been almost ten years that we've known each other. I'd say that is also something to celebrate."

Shit. Cas was right. September 18th, 2009 was the day Cas had first rescued him from hell. And look where they were now. Mother of fuck, he'd gone and married an angel, when about ten years ago he hadn't even believed they'd existed.

"How's that for a meet cute, right?"

"Is that a reference to chick flicks?"

"Damn right it is. And don't give me that look, you like 'em as much as I do!"

Cas smiled back at him and beckoned Dean over with a single curl of his finger.

Knowing by the look in Castiel's heated stare that things were gonna progress to sex, Dean unhooked the clasp of his dress pants, yanked down the long, dainty zipper and let the black fabric fall to his feet.

Clad in nothing but navy blue boxer-briefs, Dean straddled Cas' thighs, his knees sinking into the quilted bedspread. What an ugly thing it was too, not at all worthy of the mess they were about to create on it.

"I haven't got a gift for you. The case came up and I didn't have time and had no idea what to get."

Cas squinted at him. "We don't normally get each other anything, Dean. We normally just find time to spend together. Usually naked…and winding up covered in each other's spit and come. But that's a gift of sorts, and one I quite enjoy."

Stifling a laugh, Dean shook his head and bent down to kiss his quirky man. "A gift of spit and come. Well, that I can deliver."

It occurred to him that they actually hadn't had full-on intercourse in weeks. Not since before he'd left on the last case. The thought of being put on all fours and drilled was crowding his mind, making it hard to focus on dragging out the inevitable.

/\/\/\

Watching Dean's array of expressions, Castiel suspected he was wild-minded at the moment, wanting something raw to explode between them. It tended to be that way after they went long stretches of time without much more than late-night tired hand-jobs and the occasional head when the moment struck right. The last few weeks since he'd gotten back from the case with Jody, Dean had been particularly edgy compared to the earlier months that year.

It wasn't Dean that had alerted him to the why of it, but Sam. A brief comment in the kitchen one morning: "Dean had a bad nightmare while you were gone and we had a pretty difficult talk so just a heads-up that he'll be a little off for a bit." Castiel had not asked for details. As long as Dean had someone to talk to, he was happy.

Turning up to catch those green eyes as they began to dilate, Castiel shifted to bring his arms around to the front so he could begin unbuttoning his shirt.

"Hey, that's my job." Dean pushed his hands off, and pressed down over him. "Ease up the bed."

Doing as he was told, Cas held Dean's stare until he was laid out over the rough comforter.

On his knees, and braced by one arm, Dean began to unbutton the crisp dress shirt one-handed. The movement was well-practiced and smooth. The occasional teasing grin worked at Castiel's arousal, heightening it and getting him ready for a true celebration.

As Dean tugged the pale grey shirt from the tight band of his dress pants, he bent low to lavish Cas' sensitive neck with suckling kisses that tingled as the blood was pulled right to the surface. The rough scratch of Dean's permanent weeks' old beard tickled over the softness of his skin and it made his erection swell. The firm weight pressed uncomfortably against the insides of his pants and he pleaded with Dean to get on with declothing business.

"Considering the look on your face about a minute ago, I thought for sure you would be tearing my clothes off. Instead, you've decided to drive me insane."

Dean chuckled, nibbling at the fleshy part of his ear. "I want to bring you so close to insanity that you'll do whatever I want."

Feeling a sinking sensation in his chest, Castiel sobered his voice. "And what exactly do you want that you think I need to be close to insanity in order to agree to?"

Making a non-committal noise, Dean lowered his hips and rubbed their groins together. The wet drag of a tongue against the hollow at the base of his throat clogged up his need to argue this course of action.

In a series of choppy movements, they pulled his dress shirt off. The white t-shirt underneath was tugged over his head and he fell back to the springy mattress. The drafty motel room air skitted across his bared chest and his nipples tightened against the subtle chill.

Dean noticed. Smiling wide, he arched his back and leaned down to capture one of Castiel's nipples with his lips, tonguing at it and sucking the bud into his mouth. Watching Dean crowd over him, his light brown hair catching the afternoon light streaming in through gaps in the curtains, he warmed up fully into the moment, his thoughts turning slow and lazy.

The wet mouth artfully assaulting his nipples moved to the centre of his chest and began a path downward. Castiel slid his fingers into Dean's hair, smiling as he managed to dishevel Dean's perfect look. The short, straight hair was soft against his rough palms—calloused over the years he'd now spent as a human. Curving down to the back of Dean's head, sliding along the back of his neck, he encouraged Dean's progress lower.

Cool trails from the path of Dean's mouth marked his abdomen and as the soft lips reached the edge of his pants, they both stole a breath and reached simultaneously to begin getting the navy slacks off.

There was no point in wasting time and both his boxers and pants were pulled down his legs; Dean slipping his fingers into his socks on the way down and taking those off in one fluid motion as well.

On the way back, Dean paused, kneeling over his one thigh, familiar green eyes lost in a thought.

"What?" asked Castiel.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." Dean absently reached down and touched himself, sliding his hand up the length of himself over his boxer-briefs.

"So are you," he said.

Even now, Dean took praise with apprehension, his cheeks turning pink but not in the normal way. The expression always made him seem vulnerable. Settling over him, Dean planted himself between Cas' legs and their chests met fully, breaths competing with each other. They gazed at one another in a languid sort of anticipation.

With his elbows crushing the pillows at either side of Castiel's head, Dean brushed against his lips once, twice, and another before he worked into his mouth with his tongue; the heat of the kiss rocketing from a candle-flame to a hearth-fire as Dean angled to deepen the kiss with a moan.

Just as he was loosening into the pattern and familiarity of making out with Dean, the man in question reared back and grinned devilishly. Dean ran his blunt nails over Castiel's skin as he shuffled down the bed.

For the next eight thousand years, Dean teased him with the trail of his fingers and the heat of a slick mouth on every inch of skin surrounding his groin without once curving that building frustration with one, simple, stroke. Of a tongue, or a hand. Castiel didn't care. Heck, he would settle for Dean's leg accidentally brushing against his cock at this point.

At the moment, Dean's mouth was sealed over the inner dip of his pelvis, sucking hard enough that it tingled. It maddened him to be teased this way. Dean knew full-well that he could never handle the strain of it.

"Touch me before I lose my mind," he said.

Dean looked up from his bent, taunting, position and maintaining that heated stare, snaked his tongue out and flicked the underside of his cock. "There. Is that better?"

Nearly infuriated, Castiel growled. "You know I can't stand being teased like this." Not when it's been so long, he wanted to say, but didn't.

"I'll give in only if you give me a pass later."

"For what?"

"Whatever I want."

"Dean—"

"—Don't worry, it's nothing crazy. Just say yes."

"You're not getting a blanket freebie, Dean. I'll do what you want only if I think it's okay."

"Fiiiine!" Dean whined and rolled his eyes. "You do realize it's been almost six years. I'm practically a poster-child for mental stability now."

Cas had to laugh. "Sam said you had a nightmare three weeks ago."

"For one, that was…not that kind of nightmare, ya get me? And two, it was like the first one in forever!"

"How about we keep fooling around and we'll make the decision together whether we diversify our sexual portfolio."

Smiling in a way that seemed to mock him, Dean said, "You need to lay off CNN."

Castiel was about to argue the importance of keeping up to date with everything when Dean dipped down and swallowed him in one move. The overwhelming heat seemed to radiate from his dick to the ends of his fingers.

"Mmph…fuck, yes," he sighed.

Assuming Dean would go slow, he was blown away when the mouth on him glided up and down his shaft in quick, smooth motions. Saliva built on him and dribbled down to the base, trickling between his coarse hair and down over the smooth delicate skin that covered his sac.

"Dean," the name fell from his lips as his hands reached for Dean's bobbing head. He threaded his fingers through the thick, straight hair and guided Dean, caressing him. The muted groans and wet gasps as Dean swallowed and sucked at him brought him to a different kind of madness than before.

He got close—too close. "Stop, stop, stop."

Gradually sliding his lips off, Dean sat back and grinned, his mouth sinfully swollen and shiny. "Spread your legs."

Castiel reached back and clutched at his own messy brown hair, pulling on it to expel his tension. Still, he parted his thighs and eased his knees back.

Having closed his eyes, a shudder ruptured from him the second Dean's tongue lapped at the nerve-ridden entrance. This, too, was nothing more than a tease because he knew Dean well enough that this would end with Cas topping. Not that he minded in the least…but the taunt of that tongue was mighty distracting.

In a few short moments, Dean was all over him—a fist stroking his cock from base to tip, a mouth giving sloppy, dirty kisses to his nuts and two fingers plying at his ass.

"Dean—" he warned, sensing that swift pull in the pit of his stomach.

Every incredible source of stimulation disappeared all at once. Goddammit, it was cold, he thought. Shaky in the way only humans could get from severe sexual need, Castiel expanded his lungs and tried to regain his bearings.

"Are you fully and completely aroused?" Dean asked, half-excited, half-legitimately-curious.

"Achingly, yes," he answered breathlessly. It took some effort to ease up onto his knees, his erection full and tight in the centre of his hips, the skin a bright red, the head nearly purple.

Quickly capturing his hand, Dean kissed it and let go before he laid back onto the rumpled comforter. Seeing the excitement lighten Dean's eyes reminded him that they might be doing something a little different today.

"Remember, it's our anniversary," said Dean, as if that alone would have Cas giving in.

Laying on his side beside Dean, he got comfortable and met Dean's waiting stare. "Okay, what is you want?"

"Dammit, Cas, I was supposed to ask you this when you were delirious with pleasure."

To make a point of it, he grabbed his sex and dragged it against Dean's thigh, smearing the small amount of precome all over Dean's skin. "I'm…not far off from that. Just say what you want, you've brought up things before, why is this different?"

Dean looked away. "Cause I think you'll say no without really considering it."

"I promise to keep an open mind."

/\/\/\

Whew. Okay, here goes. Dean bit his lip and actually felt himself grow hard from the thought of it.

Looking Cas right in the eye, he said, "I want you to tie me up."

"No!" Cas blasted back. Not taking even a second to consider it at all.

"Hey! You promised to keep an open mind."

"Yes, when I thought you would suggest something weird! Not an activity that might throw you into a panic and then make me feel terrible!" argued Cas. The poor guy looked a little hurt just to think of it.

Dean was adamant though. It had been a long time from the past and yeah, there was a lot that still got to him. But there was something about giving up his trust to Cas on this monumental anniversary that he couldn't shake. He wanted to be one-hundred-percent vulnerable to Cas. In a strange way, it would be cathartic for him.

"What, so you'd be fine if it was something super weird, like me wanting to babble like an infant and call you daddy, but you tying me up is all about the hell no? Really? Listen for a minute, Cas… You are legit the best thing that's ever happened to me. I trust you more than anything. More than my life—there are about a dozen or so hunters I'd trust with my life, but I trust you with…you know, that other side of me. The one that got turned on its head. I'm a little messed up because of that and I always will be and I'm okay with that, but I've been thinking about it for a while and I thought—Hey!—why not on our anniversary? It's like, therapeutic or some shit."

Pausing, Dean assessed Cas' reaction to his pleaded case. When the former angel had nothing yet to say, Dean chatted away. "We've been through so much together. You're always there for me, and I know it's gonna be that way until we die—whenever the hell that is. And even after, like you said, we get eternity, right? We get Heaven together. Fuck, Cas, we've made it this far. A little rope ain't gonna fuck that up. I love the thought of being completely vulnerable to you. Not in a bad way, I promise. It's a trust thing. It's okay because I'm with you."

Going silent once more, he prayed that Cas would say yes.

"I wish I were still an angel so I could read your mind."

Dean reached over and gently cupped Cas' cheek. "No, Cas. That's the point. You don't need to read my mind. I trust you…" Trying to lighten the mood he said, "Besides, people do way crazier stuff than simple restraints."

"Those people do not have your past," Cas reminded gently.

"Okay, yeah, I'll give you that one. But c'mon. It's our anniversary—consider it my gift!"

Castiel groaned, his eyes rolling back. The reaction was all sorts of defeat. Dean beamed and threw his arms over his head, ready to be tied in whatever way Cas saw fit.

"I'm not tying you to the bed, I'm only going to bind your hands."

"Works for me!" Dean followed Cas with his eyes as his husband eased off the bed and searched the room for a tie and the bottle of KY that was buried in one of their bags.

As Castiel started looping the fabric around his wrists, Dean kept his eyes open and accessible, sensing that Cas was scrutinizing every little expression that passed over his features.

"I'm fine, Cas."

Instead of replying, the former angel tightened the second knot, the restraint pinched his skin. Hmm, Dean assessed his position and sat up to rearrange himself, tucking his legs through his joined arms so that his hands would be behind himself, he spread his knees and lowered his face to the pillow. Tied up, ass in the air. The hubby nice and hard behind him. Perfect, thought Dean.

"Goddammit, Dean," Castiel said in a low murmur. The deep thread of arousal marking his words in a way that made Dean want to squirm. Years ago—Heck, even two years ago—this position would've reduced him to a terrified mess. Somewhere buried deep, Abaddon's leftover influence and control sat like an old scar, and yeah, sometimes he still worried that if she ever returned he'd lose himself. But he and Cas, and their fucking marriage had bloomed into this great thing. There was understanding and compassion and loyalty. By offering up his vulnerability, Dean was giving Cas every last piece of himself.

Cas' hands started to stroke him; his back, his sides, down his thighs and across his calves. As deft fingers tickled over the soles of his feet, he felt the tingle of the touch slither up his legs to his entrance.

"Are you going to tease me the way I teased you?" he wondered.

"Do you want me to?"

An unrefined plea rose up out of his throat. "Fuck, yes."

One hand gripped his ass cheek, massaging it roughly as the other slid up his spine and stroked into his hair, nails scraping across his scalp. Shivers coursed over his skin and when Cas' lips softly met the top of his cleft he moaned.

Cas caressed every inch of him, calloused palms gliding across his slowly dampening skin. Moving around his position on the bed, Castiel kissed everywhere he could reach; from his shoulder blades to his toes. Bending down to Dean's narrowed sightline, Cas licked across his lips as his right hand reached back and fingered down the crease of his exposed ass.

"Are you okay?"

Dean closed his eyes, half-annoyed but secretly grateful that Cas was considerate enough to ask. "Yes. I want you to fuck my mouth," he demanded.

Yes…normal healthy desire was rocketing through his limbs and Dean was fucking thrilled.

Gently easing him up, Castiel moved in front of him, kneeling with his butt on his heels and held Dean's face in his hands. With his arms strapped behind his back, his balance was thrown and it made the prospect of taking Cas' thick sex in his mouth that much more exciting.

Dean let Cas control the movement, lowering him down and Dean opened his mouth and let the engorged length of flesh push in over his tongue. Closing his lips in a seal, he moaned around the intrusion, giving Cas the cue to get to it.

It began slow, Cas driving his hips up and back, hands holding him still for it. Before long, the pace picked up as they both began to let go and relax into the feeling. Dean tensed his abs and did what work he could.

Above him, Cas was panting in ragged bursts, gradually losing his composure. "Fuck, your mouth is glorious."

Dean chuckled. He took a breath in through his nose and sank down until he couldn't go anymore. With a stifled whimper, Cas pressed into him and they both flinched it felt so good. Not even for a second did Dean worry or panic, because it was Cas. The pressure was gone before he knew it and Cas started to pull out all the way.

Cas wiped Dean's mouth with his fingers and then bent to kiss him. They both sighed in the moment's pause of action.

"You're really okay." This time, Castiel was stating it, not asking. Dean grinned.

"I told you, with you, I don't think there's anything that would bother me anymore. I trust you, and more than that, my body trusts you."

Dean was assaulted with an eager, unrefined kiss. The smooth, broad lips slid over to his cheek and then to his temple. Castiel kissed him there and then brushed against his ear. "I'm going to make this very good for you, my beloved husband of five years."

Damn his man was corny sometimes. Maybe Dean kind of liked it, though. Just a little.

"I don't doubt it."

Gently pushing Dean back down, Castiel stroked the length of his spine. Dean turned his cheek to the bed and eased some of his weight onto his face.

"Widen your knees, please."

Shifting awkwardly, he managed. A hand moved between his thighs and curled up around to his front, taking his cock in hand and giving it a few strokes. On the return trip, Cas' fingers slid along the inside of his groin, fondling his dangling sac, rolling it around over his palm. Dean's breath grew hot as it crossed his lips and over the bedspread.

That other hand came from nowhere and Dean was stupefied for a moment. One hand cradled his nuts, and the other rubbed at his ass, squeezing it and plying him apart. Heat pooled in his belly and the sweat began to really build up in places.

The snap of the KY bottle opening was so deliciously portentous. The cool liquid was spread around with Castiel's fingers, running up and down his cleft. Both hands moved around his lower half with familiar precision, knowing just where to linger and just how to graze his skin.

Five years later and he was still amazed at how Cas loved him, how easily they'd grown to trust each other. Even after everything, they'd managed to hold on to each other. Through death, and torture, and trauma, they made it.

Castiel tore him from his heart-warming thoughts as he pressed against Dean's entrance with a single finger, tucking just past the ring of muscle and then pulling back out. There was abundant lube, but Castiel still took his time.

"Relax," Cas said in a soft whisper, his one palm pressing against Dean's lower back, guiding him into more of a ball on the bed. The finger that had been teasing his rim, stroked all the way in. On the withdraw, Cas added another. They didn't always go quite so slow, but given the extensive time since they'd last done this, and considering it was the first time they were doing it with Dean tied up, he could be patient.

Eventually, three fingers were sliding in and out of him, his nerve-endings fired up and ready for the real show.

"I want you…all of you," Dean pleaded, his face smashed against the bed.

"I'm entirely yours." As he said the words, Castiel groped up the length of his back and rubbed across the expanse of his tattoo. Both of them moaned and strained towards each other.

Dean was so ready to feel Cas take him apart, to let go and trust him both to take care of him now and forever.

The long moment between when the fingers pulled out of him and the time Cas spent slicking himself up was a frigging eternity. Dean tried to keep himself loose and all about that trust. Straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of Cas kneeling on the bed, stroking the length of his dick, was apparently all the reassurance Dean needed.

The plump, velvety head slid into him with relative ease and with the position he was in, Cas' cock felt thicker, stretching the tightness of his body with each inch. The progress was inexplicably linked to his lungs, because as Cas went deeper, a drawn exhale was pulled from him.

Grabbing his hips, Castiel guided each thrust, rocking them together; Dean in a ball, his knees now under his chest. With his wrists bound together, and his body curled the way it was, the only movement left to him was being able to turn his head from side to side. Even that wasn't easy.

"Go harder." Dean's throat was tight, his body bracing for more.

With a grunt, Cas obliged, yanking Dean's hips down, his cock pushing into him in quick strikes, filling him completely. The abrasive crash of their hips that jostled Dean's unbalanced position was thought-dulling. Dean felt himself spinning away from the clarity of the moment. But in a good way, in one of those fuzzy, light-headed kind of ways.

Floating on the wave of his arousal, peaking and peaking as Cas pounded against him, Dean relished in being able to expose himself like this. To know that with Cas, he was safe.

"Fuck, yeah. Oh god, that's good," his words were a little muffled, but he knew Cas caught it judging by the increase in pace.

"'Love making…you…feel good," Cas panted between thrusts, his body curling around Dean as he slowed. Instead of faster and harder, Cas opted for deeper this time. His ass was plastered and molded to Cas' hips as the fucking turned a bit desperate.

It felt like Cas was trying to crawl onto him, the pressure of his movements crushing Dean to the bed. "Too much?" he asked in the midst of it.

Too much? Fuck, Dean half-wanted to cut the restraints solely so he could pull his asscheeks apart and somehow get Cas even more apart of him than he already was. "Fuck no."

"Oh thank Heaven." With a low growl, Cas grabbed his hips in a tight grip and went crazy, hips rubbing against him, the fucking becoming a discoordinated race to release. "I've gotta finish, Dean, I'm sorry. We can keep going after. But, dammit, I'm too close."

The drag of Castiel's cock drew back, and damn it tingled so fucking good. Dean didn't even catch a breath before Cas unleashed his frustrations and slammed against him. It was a quick, successive snap of his hips, slapping against Dean's ass. The obscene sound of them coming together brought Dean right to the brink as well, but he concentrated as hard as he could to hold it back.

The broken moans that roared up from Cas' throat as he got close turned into a loud series of shouts as he pumped his release with abandon, fully letting go. Dean allowed himself to be pliant through it, taking the feel of Cas' orgasm into his bones, loving the shudders that he felt deep.

Breathing heavy, Cas yanked at Dean's wrists. "What are you doing?"

"Off," was all Cas said, struggling in his post-orgasm delirium to undo the knots of the tie. The soft cotton was pulled away and the blood rushed to the bands around Dean's wrists, making the skin sharply red, he was sure.

Without warning, Castiel rolled Dean over onto his back. The come that had been in him, dribbled out down between his cheeks and he shifted on the bed away from the wet spot it had created.

Those heated blue eyes were zeroed in to the apex of Dean's hips, where his cock stood out over his pelvis, flushed and weeping for release.

"Tell me what you want," Cas said to him, smirking down, looking as if he wanted to eat Dean up.

"I love when you get that look in your eye," Dean teased, pulling his legs back. "I hope you're still good to go."

"We're not that old yet."

Dean laughed. "We're not that young either."

Cas shut him up by sinking two fingers into him and curling them forward. A ragged, animalistic kind of sound worked its way out of Dean's throat. Christ, that felt good. The rough sex had made him a little sore, but it heightened how everything felt and he since he was still above-board with the head-stuff the only thing he asked for was more lube.

"It has been a while," commented Cas as he slicked them both up.

"Too long."

When the smooth, familiar sex moved back into his body, Dean sighed and loved the feel of it, the warmth of it. Cas wasn't quite as hard as he'd been, and considering the faint burn it was probably a good thing.

"Mmm—go slow, babe."

The room's temperature increased considerably with Cas' body heavy on top him, his weight pushing down on the backs of Dean's thighs. Castiel strained to kiss him, breathing hard against his face. They both seemed to struggle for air as they crushed together.

Out of nowhere, Cas' hand curled around Dean's erection and began to gently stroke him, a barely there kind of touch that made him restless for more. The silky, thick push into him, slaking him with delicious pressure, the heat filling him up, Dean lost himself and let it all wash over him. The arousal built up strong and commanding, he felt the world lurching every time Cas' drove his hips forward.

The hand on his dick tightened, moving with greater purpose. Dean's breath stuttered and a damp fever claimed his skin.

"Fuck, Cas…my god, keep going, keep going."

Pulling out to the tip and moving back in, over and over, the tingle and the low burn claimed Dean's senses. Damn, Cas was so good to him. A thumb grazed over his slit and the sensation was nearly too much, it felt so good it hurt and he cried out. "Fu-uck, ahh-hha—"

A single, doled-out hard thrust left Dean breathless and speechless. As the measured wave-like motions returned, he braced for another one of those jarring gems. The air stopped coming and he waited and waited.

"Hmph." Cas grunted, gracing him with another randomized good slam. Once more, Dean stopped breathing. And back to the lazy slide of lubed sex, filling him and pulling back to leave him empty and wanton.

"Ahh, fuck…again."

Cas slowed his hips to a stop and quickened his hand instead. Dean twisted on the bed, groaning. He could feel his legs below his knees shaking as they stuck up in the air, his thighs pressed hard into his chest. The arousal had seized every muscle, and he felt the bed quiver under their shuddering weight.

The hand on his cock disappeared and he felt it rub down to where they were connected, the added touch at the exact place where Cas was fucking him turned him on in a wild sort of way.

"Fingers," he breathed out. A half-conceived request that he was too muddled to make clear.

Understanding, Cas rubbed against his entrance, no doubt feeling himself up at the same time, and tried to guide his fingers in alongside. "You need to relax more."

Trying hard to let go of the strain, he started to shake and nearly came right then and there. "Oh, fuck, Cas, just take me apart. I'm-I'm too, I'm, fuck, just fuck me. I can't talk."

Cas laughed and abandoned the attempt to finger him with his cock still nestled inside. Instead, he used his lightly lubed hand to stroke Dean in a broken pattern of fast, fast, fast, and then slow as still water, the pressure all over the place. Tight around the base and loose and swirly at the head.

Dean felt his jaw unhinge when Cas' hips snapped forward, crashing in a slap against his ass. The feel of his hard sex buried deep pulsed in a telling way. Damn, was Cas ready to finish again? Fuckin' hell that was hot. Through the haze of his sex-addled brain, he had a moment to be amazed that even though they were nearing middle-aged and had been married for five years they still managed to fuck each other like horny-ass teenagers. Considering his past, Dean was damn grateful for it. If there was one thing he never expected after leaving Abaddon's clutches, it was that he would wind up in any kind of healthy sexual relationship, and definitely not one that was arguably really fucking awesome.

Breathing heavy through his efforts, Cas closed in and kissed him with a string of moans vibrating their lips. It was messy and it was glorious. Opening his eyes, Dean stared in awe at the face above him—it was scrunched, eyes cinched tight as if he were trying desperately to hold on longer.

"Look at me," said Dean, his voice patchy and rough.

When Cas lifted his lids, the intensity of his dark blue gaze was nearly savage. They both groaned, foreheads bumped as Castiel curled his spine and pressed in deep, sinking all the way until he could feel Cas' weighted sac crush against the cleft of his ass. An electrified shudder ripped through him and just as the stretch and heat of it was close to pushing him over, it was eased out, leaving him empty.

"Caasss…" he begged.

In a quick move, Castiel moved one hand to Dean's face, his elbow down on the pillow and digging slightly against Dean's shoulder. It wasn't comfortable but he didn't care. The damp palm framed his face, a thumb rubbing down near his lips, mixing in with the half-purposed kisses and shared breaths.

The tight heat in his pelvis radiated out and the rough drag of Castiel's palm on his cock was kicking him higher and higher up towards release. The slow, dragging fucks of Cas' dick made it worse and Dean heard his shameless whimpers for more.

Gazing up into Cas' eyes, aiming all his building fire into the black in the very centre, he demanded with a look for Cas to take him over. No words were necessary.

A short breath later and Cas slammed against him, the resounding smack was lost amidst the sound of them both crying out. This time Cas didn't revert back to slow and soft, but appeased them both with wild, uninhibited sex.

Their chests were slick with sweat, the room saturated with the scent of come and moisture. The pounding robbed him of the ability to expand his lungs. Dean laid on his back, legs bent to his chest and delighted in the jarring of his bones, the stretch and subtle ache of his ass, the pressure that he felt with each heavenly invasion. The broken, now heavily uncoordinated motions of Cas' hand on Dean's over-heated length was a building tease. The weight in his groin increased, the faint throbbing almost too much to bear.

"Oh god, fuck, ff-f-fuuuuck," panted Dean, his eyes rolling around, trying to stay locked on Cas'.

The blood rushed in his ears, and his mouth strained open and wide, attempts at pulling in some air cut off as he froze still to feel Cas take him over. His chest began to burn and all he saw were Cas' fierce blue eyes intent on him. The stare itself was as good, if not better, than the sex.

Everything faded away, leaving only his pounding heart, the feel of pressure and a distant, building throb. His legs were shaking, and he felt frozen in limbo.

"Dean…" Cas said in a heavy breath, now against the side of his face. The second time Castiel said his name it was rougher, strained.

Just as he felt the first pulses of hot come fill him, Cas whispered against his ear, "Dean, breathe."

In that instant, he crashed back to the earth, the oxygen getting sucked back into his lungs and when he took the needed breath, his orgasm rushed fast and hard, coursing through his body. The force of it was so intense that he was robbed of his voice, of any additional air. The whole of him pausing to absorb every throb and tingle and stretch and the warm glaze that coated his chest. The sound of Cas still moaning softly against his ear.

What felt like a million years later, Cas gently eased himself out; the release following quickly after to streak down over his skin and ruin, yet again, the already ugly comforter.

Dean rolled over, throwing an arm around Cas' chest and felt a contented groan leave his mouth. "Holy Awesomeness Husband," Dean slurred, still exhausted from their exertions.

Cas turned to face him, a relaxed pleasure smoothing out his features, "You always forget to breathe."

It was true. Dean smiled and stretched to kiss the side of Cas' mouth, his arm pulling his man a little closer. "Because you fucking take my breath away." Cheesy but true.

"I'm so exceptionally happy, Dean. After all we've been through and the last five amazing years. We've come so far."

Dean sighed, and promptly inhaled, taking in the mixed scent of their sex in his nose. Redirecting his gaze upwards, he met Cas' eyes. "To another five years," he said, and stretched to kiss his mouth.

"To eternity," Castiel corrected with a grin.

Yeah, that sounded damn good to him. Dean cuddled up good and close, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. His heart beating a bit too fast, a little too excited.

Take a breath, Dean calmly told himself; you finally got everything you never let yourself want.

A/N: I have truly loved writing this story and I thank everyone who followed and commented and enjoyed it with me. I know it was a long hard road for Dean, but as promised, the ending was a happy one. I am in the middle of posting all these chapters on Ao3; sadly the story isn't quite as popular yet on AO3 but I think the tags kind of put people off. Which is understandable! Here is the link /works/4008727/chapters/9006106 (will eventually have a fanart drawing for it because there is a scene I simply NEED to see) Anyway... I am sad to say that I don't think I will be posting on anymore, and any new work will only be on AO3 for ease. My account is still Elizabeth1985 on there too.