Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.

This is an idea that I came up with while talking to my best friend, masterjediratgrl31. So this story is dedicated to her! And I actually posted this on AO3 months ago but now that I'm confident enough to post smut on this site, I thought I'd pop it up here too!

Before

Dean didn't know when the hell he'd started wanting to kiss Castiel. All he knew was that it freaked him out because wasn't he meant to dislike him? Sure, the angel had rebelled against Heaven and switched to their side but he had treated Dean pretty fucking awfully at first (even if Dean had been the only one he'd entrusted with his most inner doubts and thoughts) and he had played a pretty big role in allowing the Apocalypse to even happen by letting Sam go to kill Lilith. But then again, Dean couldn't talk. He'd been the weak son of a bitch who'd broken in Hell after thirty years and spilt blood, allowing the whole fucking thing to happen in the first place.

So that line of thought was out. Dean's next argument was that Castiel was a robot angel who'd hated him only months ago. Angels didn't even feel emotions (apart from anger, self-righteousness and sheer fucking arrogance), so how the hell could Castiel possibly like him? And, even with the slim chance that Castiel did like him back, how could they even be together? Castiel was an angel – he wasn't bound to Earth like Dean was, so what was making him stay apart from his rebellion? And wasn't there something about angels not being allowed to fall in love with humans? After everything Castiel had turned his back on (and his entitled outburst the other day had reminded Dean very harshly of that), Dean wasn't about to corrupt the 'precious little angel' even more.

So he had to settle for crushing hard on the infuriating angel from afar. And he hated it.

Another thing he hated was how Castiel arrived so fucking silently! While cleaning his jacket in his motel room after hacking a vampire's head off, Dean was overcome by the sudden feeling of being watched and when he looked up into the mirror, he jumped.

"God!" he cursed at the reflection of Castiel. "Don't do that!"

"Hello, Dean." Dean didn't want to admit it but the way Castiel said those two words in his deep, gravelly voice always sent shivers down his spine (and further south, though that was something he really didn't want to think about). Instead, he turned around but this just made it even worse as it brought him right up in Castiel's face.

"Cas," he murmured, trying to look anywhere but Castiel's chapped lips. "We've talked about this. Personal space?"

"My apologies." Castiel stepped back, leaving Dean with a sinking feeling of disappointment in his stomach. To distract himself, he grabbed his jacket and walked towards the bed.

"How'd you find me?" he asked. "I thought I was flying below the angel radar."

He rubbed his ribs. He felt a flicker of hope when Castiel's bright blue eyes fixed on his chest for a few moments before he looked away.

'He was probably just thinking about the carvings on my ribs,' Dean thought firmly. 'Pull yourself together, Winchester!'

"You are," Castiel said. "Bobby told me where you were."

After a few minutes of stilted conversation, Castiel finally got to what he wanted: Dean's help in trapping an archangel.

"The one who killed me," Castiel clarified.

"'Scuse me?" Dean blinked. Even having died as many times as he had, that was still a sentence he was unused to anyone being able to say.

"His name is Raphael."

"You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?" Dean said disbelievingly, resisting the urge to snicker. Castiel gave him a Look.

"I've heard whispers that he's walking the earth," he said. "This is a rare opportunity."

"For what? Revenge?"

Castiel shook his head.

"Information."

Trying to clear his head (from both this new development and the way he wanted to slam Castiel up against the wall and shove his tongue down the angel's throat), Dean returned to the sink and started to wash his knife.

"So, what, you think you can find this dude and he's just gonna spill God's address?"

"Yes, because we are going to trap him and interrogate him."

Dean paused and turned back to look at Castiel, whose back was turned.

"You're serious about this?" he said. Castiel turned around and oh yeah, he looked fucking serious.

"Yes."

Dean raised his eyebrows and walked towards Castiel.

"So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?"

His stomach twisted at the analogy but, thankfully and disappointingly, Castiel didn't get the reference. Instead, he asked why the hell he should do this and Castiel's response that he was simply insurance, because no angel would dare to harm Michael's vessel, had him raising his eyebrows and trying to ignore that little voice that was gleefully whispering that Castiel only saw him as a tool, only valued him for what help he could provide, that the angel did not like him as anything more than an acquaintance.

"I need your help because you are the only one who'll help me. Please."

And with that plea, with those imploring blue eyes, Dean's resolve utterly crumbled.

"Alright, fine. Where is he?"

After firmly telling Castiel that no, they were not flying because that was so fucking uncomfortable, Dean sped towards Waterville, Maine, with Castiel in the front seat. It felt so strange to have Castiel in the front seat instead of Sam but, strangely, Dean found that he didn't mind.

After what felt like the longest six and a half hours of Dean's life (both because the silence was heavy and because he was constantly fighting the urge to pull over and make out passionately with Castiel), they finally pulled up in Waterville. Dean made a quick stop to change into his fed suit and then he pulled up outside the police station, shooting Castiel a curious look.

"And we're here, why?" he said as they got out of the car.

"A deputy sheriff laid eyes on the archangel," was Castiel's response. Dean blinked.

"And he still has eyes?" he said. Castiel just stared at him, making Dean's stomach do a flip-flop. "Alright, what's the plan?"

"We'll…tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord and the officer will tell us where the angel is," Castiel said completely seriously. Dean had to resist the urge to grin.

"Seriously? You're gonna walk in there and tell him the truth?"

"Why not?" God, Castiel's innocence was so endearing!

"Because we're humans."

Dean pulled a fake ID out of his pocket and tucked it into Castiel's trench coat. He then began to fix up Castiel's shirt and tie, his hands trembling as he furiously fought the urge to grab that tie and pull the angel in for a searing kiss. This was driving him nuts!

"And when humans want something really, really bad, we lie," he finished, nodding in satisfaction at his handiwork.

"Why?" Castiel said innocently. Dean raised his eyes from the angel's lips but meeting those blue eyes just made it worse.

"Because that's how you become president."

Castiel all but killed Dean inside, first forgetting to flash his ID and then presenting it upside down. Dean turned it over for him, trying not to laugh, and then when Castiel obliviously started to talk about angels and demons, Dean quickly shut him down while trying not to jump the angel's bones then and there. Why the hell was he unable to control himself around Castiel?

After learning that a nearby gas station had been completely levelled by an explosion and that one man had been in the middle of it but escaped unscathed, Dean and Castiel paid a visit to that man, who was residing in Saint Pete's hospital close by. Dean successfully concealed his horror at the sight of the catatonic, drooling mess that was Donnie Fisherman and looked at Castiel.

"I take it that's not Raphael anymore?" he said.

"Just an empty vessel," Castiel confirmed. Dean took a breath.

"So this is what I'm looking at if Michael jumps my bones?"

"No, not at all." Dean's heart began to rise at Castiel's words. "Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you."

And it promptly plummeted.

After finding an abandoned house in which to summon Raphael at sunrise, Castiel flapped off to fetch some holy oil from Jerusalem – apparently the angel equivalent to holy water once lit.

"Do we have any chance of surviving this?" Dean said, silently imploring Castiel to be honest.

"You do."

"So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow." That thought did not make Dean happy.

"Yes."

"Well. Last night on earth," Dean said as Castiel sat down. "What're your plans?" He felt a thrill go through him at the thought of him using his self-proclaimed best line on Castiel, though the angel couldn't possibly know this.

"I just thought I'd sit here quietly," Castiel said plainly. After a little digging, a stunned Dean found out that Castiel was a pure, unsullied little virgin, having never even done the dirty with a fellow angel before (and could angels even bang each other?).

"Let me tell you something," Dean said, grabbing his jacket. "There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay." Oh, why couldn't Castiel pick up the hints? "Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."

Dean left, wishing so fucking hard that he was the one Castiel was going to lose his virginity to rather than some random prostitute. But as if Castiel could possibly want to have sex with him!