Take Care of My Baby

Castiel doesn't realize how much life he's missed out on until he's camped in the front seat of the Coupe with Dean as they share popcorn and a drink and one another's body heat. He doesn't stop smiling for nearly the entire night as the two crack stupid jokes and make up their own dialogue or recite it from memory because the speaker in their car only works half of the time. It leaves him wishing that he had met Dean earlier, so that he needn't have wasted nineteen years without the man. He feels as though he hasn't lived, not fully, until he shook Dean's hand for the first time.

When Rebel Without a Cause is over, they don't even need to communicate for Dean to know that the night isn't ended. Dean starts the car, and they just cruise with Cas pressed flush to Dean's side.

"Where d'you think you'll be in five years?" Dean asks out of the blue. It seems like a random question, but Castiel knows that it likely means a lot to the man. When Dean drives, he tends to say things that have been on his mind for a while.

"Five years..." he begins. "I wanna be happy in five years."

Dean's eyes crinkle with a smile, and he gives a quick glance in Cas's direction. "Pretty sure nobody wants to be sad five years in the future. I just mean... whattya wanna be? I know Sammy wants to be a lawyer, but what about you?"

"I thought I wanted to be a doctor for a long time," Castiel muses. He's never shared this part of himself before. "I thought it would be nice to save people. To make them better."

"But what about now?"

"Now, I think I'd like to be a writer."

"What'd you write about?" Dean asks him. He doesn't sound mocking, as he so easily could have. But, because he isn't like anyone else that Castiel has ever met, Dean sounds sincere.

"Bright green eyes and lazy Sunday mornings and falling in love with dangerous boys in fast cars," he responds easily with a slight smile on his face. It makes Dean smile; it might be a little cheesy, but God be damned, he can't say he doesn't enjoy it.

"Aw, gee, Cas. You're gonna make me blush," he laughs, trying to play down how pleased it really makes him feel.

"What about you, Dean? where do you see yourself in five years?" Cas counters.

He snorts, because it's a loaded question, and he knew it when he asked Cas earlier. He doesn't see himself in five years, and that's the problem. Life for the Winchesters has always been a rollercoaster that winds them throughout the country. He likes the way things are going for him so far, but he doesn't know what wind will blow him to the next town down the road.

So he says, "Maybe I'll go pro at racin'. Wouldn't be too bad of a life."

"Well, you're already the best racer that I know of," Cas says in an attempt to be supportive.

Dean, however, catches him with a grin. "Cas, how many other racers do you know?"

"... Not many."

He snickers at that. "Yeah, well. Thanks for the thought, Cas."

"It's true, Dean. You must be great if everyone around considers you the best racer they've seen. Have you ever even lost a race?"

"A few times, yeah."

"When?"

"When I first started racing."

"That doesn't count. You were still getting the hang of it."

Dean rolls his eyes, but he doesn't protest further. It's nice to have someone who actually does care for him enough to tell him so and to mean it. He has Sam, of course, but Sam is blood, and that's different, because it'll always be the two of them. Someone else coming into the picture alters the situation.

They don't say much after that, though both of them have one unanswered question that they wished to be answered: will they still be together in five years? They hesitate to ask, because they both fear the potential answer.

Dean thinks that Castiel wouldn't want to be with someone like him in the future; he's dangerous and unpredictable. He changes like the weather, and he would understand if Castiel didn't want to deal with that. But, on the other hand, Castiel thinks that Dean will get bored with him. He knows Dean's track record with relationships, and nothing has lasted longer than two weeks. It's been longer than that for the two of them, but he doesn't know how he can hold the other man's attention when he's just so different.

Needless to say, they both fear that day when the two of them aren't together anymore, but that doesn't mean they need to speak about it just yet.

Dean turns the music up, and they cruise back to town taking all of the back roads that they can find. They keep the windows rolled up because it's getting colder at night, but it gives them an excuse (as if they needed one) to stay wrapped around one another.

They make it home a short while after and find that Sam is gone.

"Probably with Jess," Dean comments absently after peeking into Sam's room.

"Then there'll be nobody to hear us," Castiel murmurs, snaking his arms around Dean's waist from behind.

"There's still the neighbors," the older Winchester says as he turns around. He lets Castiel push him back into the wall, their bodies pressed together.

"I don't care what the neighbors say," Castiel growls into the crook of Dean's neck. He wastes no time in sliding his hands up the other man's shirt, kissing and biting a mark onto Dean's neck.

The man in question lets out a shaky laugh. "Goddamn, Cas," he says. He places his hands on Cas's hips and pulls him in closer. "I don't think I'm ever gonna regret corrupting you."

Castiel makes up his mind right then and there that they aren't going to make it to the bedroom. He gyrates his hips against Dean's, and the both of them let out a soft noise of pleasure.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean groans. He drops his head back against the wall with a soft thump as Castiel works on of his hands down into the man's jeans. "Fuck, one day - ah, oh shit - one day I'm gonna take you right on the hood of the Coupe."

That wrenches a groan of anticipation from the man; if he's honest with himself, it's one of the hottest things he can think of.

"Dean-" is the only word he gets out of his mouth before the man turns them both around and presses Castiel to the wall instead. He keeps his hands on Cas's hips and his lips and tongue practically connected to his throat. The only time he ever relents is when the friction is too much, and he has to let out a groan of pleasure.

"Should probably get to the bed," Dean whispers against the reddened flesh, but he makes no move to break away.

"Forget the bed," Cas hisses, sliding his hands under Dean's shirt and dragging it off in their brief moment of being split apart.

Those three words take Dean by surprise; they're the last things he would have expected to hear, and yet somehow, the only possible thing that could have been said.

He pulls Castiel toward him in a fervor. Their kiss is rough and needy, more of an acknowledgement of how turned on they are than anything else. When they pull apart, Dean takes full advantage of the moment by stripping Castiel of the remainder of his clothing while the other man tries to do the same to Dean. It's clumsy, and they both fumble because their hands only want to caress skin, not worry about clothing.

When, by some miracle, they find themselves stripped of their clothing, Dean places both of his hands on the sides of Cas's face and pulls the man in to kiss him. As they do, their bodies press together, and the feel of their erections brushing together soon has them gasping out more than anything else.

"Dean, p-please," Cas whispers, and they're the only two words he can manage. Dean, however, immediately picks up on his meaning.

"Just a sec," he murmurs, letting Cas go for a moment to fish through the pocket of his discarded jacket for the lube that he's made a habit of carrying with him. When he stands back up, however, he has to take a moment to collect himself, because Castiel leaning back against the wall with blown-out pupils, messy hair, kiss-reddened lips, and a general pleasure-inspired glow is worth burning into his memory. "So damn pretty, Cas."

The man in question smiles just slightly. "Shut up and get over here," he demands, grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him back into his embrace.

Dean slicks up his fingers, knowing that Cas is gonna need the preparation, and nudges the man's legs open. He starts out with two fingers, first circling them around Castiel's hole before finally pressing them in.

Cas lets out a damn near heavenly groan as he does, letting his head thump back against the wall. Dean, eager to hear every noise that Castiel can produce, wastes no time in pressing his fingers deeper and moving them quicker.

The man against the wall bites his lip in an attempt to contain his near-constant gasps of pleasure. He wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders to hold himself up. He's already pretty far gone, and when Dean adds a third finger and hits his prostate, Castiel has to muster up all of the initiative he can to say, "Dean - Dean, I'm ready."

"Look at you, all worked up," he murmurs as he pulls his fingers out. "Bet I could make you come and not even touch you."

Castiel nods; he really can't find the words that will make his voice work. The truth is, he doesn't doubt Dean's skills to make him come just from talking to him.

"Jesus, Cas," the man laughs, though the sound wavers slightly. They're both too far gone to indulge in any talking. Dean simply grabs Castiel's legs and wraps them around his waist, pinning the man to the wall as he slides into him.

Out of all the possible places he had imagined fucking Cas, against the wall may not have been one of Dean's first choices. He's kind of glad about that, too, because no amount of imagining could compare to how fucking incredible it is. Castiel urges him one with pleas of, "harder, Dean, o-oh! Right there! Don't you stop!" while digging his blunt nails into the skin of Dean's back. And if that isn't incentive enough to keep fucking the man, then he doesn't know what is.

Their movements are as desperate and jerky as their breaths. They're far beyond the point of words, and all they want is to get off before Sam comes home or before their legs give out. Cas takes full advantage of having his legs around Dean's waist by using them to help him match each of Dean's thrusts.

Dean has his face buried in the crook of Cas's neck, and he can feel each gasp and moan as it comes out of the man's mouth. It's intimate as hell, especially when he feels Castiel's entire body tense up as he gasps, "Dean, I-"

"Come for me, baby."

With one final pointed thrust from Dean, Cas comes, and sure enough, Dean hasn't laid one finger on the man's cock. That thought paired with the absolute wrecked sound of Castiel's voice as he cries out strings of senseless phrases tips Dean over the edge as well. He comes so hard that his knees damn near buckle, which isn't something he could say of anyone else he's ever been with.

They remain there for a moment, the two pressed against the wall with Castiel still wrapped around the other man. Their heartbeats and rapid breaths slow down, and both men are aware of the other as it happens. When they gain a little composure, Castiel unwinds his legs and Dean pulls out, and they both use the wall to hold themselves up as they stare at one another. Castiel's blue eyes are nearly consumed by his pupils with his brown hair sticking up in every direction and lips that have been kissed pink. And Dean, unable to hold it in, is smiling like an idiot.

"You're fuckin' perfect, Cas," he mumbles out from a mouth that feels as though it's been made for the sole purpose of tracing the skin of the man he's fallen for. And then, he does just that. Their kiss is gentle and tender, the kind that speaks more than their words could. Careful fingertips rest on jawbones, and hands cup the back of heads, and it takes a few tries for them to end it. One of the two keeps coming back for more, just little kisses or a drag of the teeth over a bottom lip, until finally, they rest their foreheads together and stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eon.

"Should probably get to bed," Dean proposes. Really, he'd love nothing more than to stay there forever, feeling like the entire world was composed only of the two of them. But his damn legs are about to give out, and he's so exhausted that he can hardly keep his eyes open. One look at Cas tells him the same things about the other man.

"What about our clothes?" Cas asks as they tangle their fingers together and amble back to their bedroom.

"Leave 'em 'til morning."

"What about Sam?"

"He can handle it."

Castiel smiles softly at that; he's not in any mood to worry about what Sam's reaction will be when he finds the pile of their clothing, not when Dean is leading him to bed. It's a matter that is best left to be dealt with when it happens.

They hardly get the covers pulled back before the two of them pile into the bed together. It's Dean who crawls in last, and he settles in with his head on Cas's chest, their hands still entwined. Castiel uses his free arm to brush through Dean's hair, which earns him a sleepy and sated smile.

"I'm glad I met you, Cas," he murmurs.

The statement warms Castiel's heart and drags a smile out of him, too. "I'm glad I met you, too, Dean."

That answer seems to satisfy the man, because Dean's grin gets even bigger, but he hides it by ducking his head and closing his eyes. "G'night, Cas."

Castiel doesn't have time to return the sentiment because Dean has already fallen asleep.

__________

Cas wakes up to the stirring of whatever he has his face pressed against. It takes him a moment to get his wits about him before he realizes that he has Dean's back pulled flush against his stomach with his forehead resting on the muscle of the man's upper back.

Gently, Dean lifts Cas's arm so that he can turn around. Surprise flashes through his sleep-lidded eyes for just a moment when he realizes Cas is awake as well, but then he breaks out into a grin and pecks Cas on the lips.

"Mornin'," he murmurs quietly, still smiling. "How long've you been up?"

"Not long."

"Mmm. Good," Dean mumbles as he nuzzles into Cas's chest. The man just smiles and runs his fingers through Dean's already messy hair. For a man who claims he doesn't cuddle, he sure seems to enjoy a whole hell of a lot of it. Not that Cas is complaining.

They stay like that for so long that Castiel thinks Dean must have fallen asleep. However, he's taken by surprise when the man suddenly pushes him over, rolls on top of him, and props himself up so that he can look at Cas.

"Hey," he grins.

"Hello, Dean."

"There's still twenty minutes until we have to get up," he states, dropping his head down to press a kiss to Cas's jaw.

"Yeah?" Castiel runs his hands up the muscles that make up Dean's back. "How would you suggest we spend those twenty minutes?"

"I've got a few ideas." The smirk is audible in his voice, but Cas can't see it because no sooner do the words come out of Dean's mouth than he presses it to Castiel's. They ease into it, with chaste kisses that morph into something more when Dean traces his tongue along the Cas's bottom lip.

It's enough to break any and all self-control that they were reigning in. Cas lets out a soft, breathy noise and spreads his legs to allow Dean more access. In truth, he's still pretty damn sore from last night's escapades, but that doesn't mean he's not up for compromise.

However, they don't get much farther than that before they hear the telltale sounds of someone rustling around in the kitchen.

Dean lets out a soft groan and drops his forehead on Cas's chest. "Sammy's up." He normally wouldn't care; Dean has let his younger brother suffer through the sounds of many other sexual encounters. But he's feeling generous. It's about time he gave Sam a break.

"I suppose we'll just have to take a rain check on this one," Castiel offers. That comment makes Dean look up at him, almost in surprise. He breaks out in a grin.

"Guess we will," he echoes. "Now whattya say about some breakfast? I think I'm starving."

Cas doesn't really have much of a say in the matter because Dean enthusiastically kisses him, and when Dean is in a good mood, it's contagious. Pretty soon, they've rolled out of the comfortable confines of the bedsheets, turned off their alarm clock before it can screech at them that it's time to wake up, and begin hunting for something presentable to pull on until they really feel like getting ready. Dean opts for a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else while Cas dresses much the same, though he covers himself with a t-shirt as well.

They venture out of their bedroom, trip over the pile of clothing that the left on the floor the previous night, and head straight for the kitchen. Sam eyes them as they wander in, an eyebrow raised in questioning.

"G'mornin', Sammy," Dean greets him, wandering over to peer into the pan that his brother has set out before him. "Pancakes?"

"Mhm."

"Makin' enough for everyone?"

"Enough for me and Cas, yeah."

Dean dons an expression of mock hurt and looks pointedly at his brother. "I'm hurt, Sam. You're breakin' my heart."

"Yeah, well. That's what you get for leaving your clothes sitting right outside my bedroom door," Sam shoots back. He glares at Dean, then turns to give Castiel a 'look'. "I swear, if you two wanna fuck like rabbits, fine. Just save the stripping until you get to the bedroom. I had to go dig out a yardstick just to push your shit down to your room."

Dean pauses with his hand on a coffee mug, ready to pour, but the words have brought a mischievous smile onto his face. He turns to Cas and mouths, "Should I?"

"Dean, don't," Castiel warns.

Sam perks up right away. "Don't what?"

"Sammy, we, uh... we didn't make it to the bedroom last night," Dean confesses like he's admitting to a crime. "But the wall worked out just fine."

"The wall?" Sam repeats.

"The wall," Dean confirms.

"As in, the wall right by my bedroom."

"Yeah, that one."

Sam's nose wrinkles up, and he can't find it in him to respond right away. After a few tries, he finally gets out the words, "For Christ's sake! I touched that wall!"

Dean lets out a surprised laugh and turns back to pouring coffee in order to avoid the disgusted and shocked gaze of Sam Winchester.

"Dean! Don't ignore me!" Sam protests, balling up a washcloth and throwing it at his brother. "You're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

The man in question elects to ignore his younger brother. Instead, he hands Cas a cup of coffee, places one at Sam's spot at the table, and sits down. He focuses all of his attention on the liquid.

"I can't believe you," Sam mutters with a shake of his head. He turns around and keeps working on the pancakes.

"It, ah... it was actually Cas who started it," the older Winchester points out with a smile as sweet and innocent as candy. Cas rolls his eyes.

"Oh, so you're gonna sell out your boyfriend?"

"I'm not selling him out, I'm just telling the truth." Dean throws his hands up defensively.

Sam rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh. "Whatever, Dean. Just drink your damn coffee."

Dean salutes him and brings the mug up to his lips, then drags his chair over to Castiel. He doesn't like being apart from the man, not when they have no choice but to be as soon as they step outside of their front door.

It isn't long before Sam finishes their breakfast and hands out a plate of pancakes to everyone. As Dean drowns his in syrup, he asks Sam, "No bacon?"

The younger Winchester gives Dean his best deadpan, unamused stare. "Can it, Dean."

"Oh! I forgot!" Dean turns to Castiel with a grin on his face. "Sammy can't cook to save his life, but he makes some mean pancakes. Don't know how that works."

"As a consolation, they are very good pancakes," Castiel states seriously. A moment of silence follows, and then both of the Winchesters burst out laughing. Dean has never met anyone who can bullshit as well as Cas and then still have absolutely no idea when someone is bullshitting someone else.

"Thanks. Thanks, Cas," Sam says, still snickering.

"I don't understand, why are you laughing?" Castiel asks, looking between the brothers.

"You're just cute," Dean tells him. He can't stop smiling at the man before him. Sam makes an obnoxious gagging sound, which earns him a middle finger and not even a spared glance from his brother.

They finish their meal in relative silence, mainly because Sam's pancakes really are pretty damn great, and there's no room for talking in between their bites.

When they finish, Castiel takes their plates and washes up with several protests from both of the Winchesters, who insisted that they can take care of themselves. Castiel simply gives them a smile and says, "You let me stay here for next to nothing. It's the very least I could do."

"Aw, c'mon Cas. You're here 'cause we want you here, not 'cause of what you can do for us," Sam protests, standing up and reaching out for the plates. Cas simply gives him a smile and turns to the sink before Sam can grab them.

"Dean," Sam protests, turning to Dean. The man simply shrugs, an action that says 'I can't do anything about it'. The younger Winchester gives a heavy sigh, but he plops back down at the table across from Dean.

Castiel cleans up quickly, and he gets the feeling that the brothers are itching for a few moments to themselves. He ruffles Dean's hair as he walks out of the room, saying, "I'm going to take a shower."

Dean leans back in his chair and calls after him, "Join you in a few, okay?"

Sam makes another disgusted noise in his throat, trying to disguise it in his coffee cup even if he's grinning at seeing his brother so in love.

They wait until they hear the rattle of the pipes as the water turns on. Then, Dean turns his full attention to his brother.

"So, you don't just make pancakes out of the blue. What's the occasion?" Dean asks, reaching over to pour himself another cup of coffee.

Sam huffs a sheepish laugh. "I'm that obvious, huh?"

"Little bit, yeah."

"Damn." Sam smiles for a few moments, then breathes in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. "There's something we need to talk about."