Take Care of My Baby

Castiel finds solace in praying.

It takes a long time for Dean to notice, because Cas doesn't pray like Dean has seen other people pray. He doesn't get down on his knees at the foot of a bed or clasp his hands. Hell, he's never even gone to church. No, Cas simply has moments where he pauses whatever he's doing and shuts his eyes for a few moments or turns his gaze upward to the ceiling.

Dean notices it, oddly enough, while he's working on his baby in the garage on the day that Sam has planned to move out, mainly because he can't stomach to see his baby brother go just yet. He has something he wants to say to Cas, so he turns and catches the man staring intensely at the ceiling. Confused, Dean asks, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Praying," Cas says as though it's the most natural thing in the world.

The older man puts down the wrench he's been holding. "You pray?"

"Of course," Cas responds. He turns his eyes to Dean. "You didn't know that?"

"No. You never said, and you don't go to church, so..." Dean shrugs, hoping he doesn't sound too stupid.

"I don't agree with the doctrines of one particular church, nor does my concept of God fall in with the way any one religion teaches it. Yes, I feel there's a higher power, but I do not use it to define myself or to control my actions. Or, as we've both witnessed firsthand, as an excuse for violence."

"Huh," Dean murmurs, staring off into the distance near Cas's feet. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Faith is a personal thing, Dean, and can be altered to meet your needs," he smiles.

That explanation satisfies Dean for a while, as it's a completely new concept to him. He's always viewed faith and religion as a strict set of rules that control the life of anyone who buys into them. A bunch of concretes that try to represent the abstract. It's one of the reasons why he finds such things distasteful; he doesn't like the idea that he has to conform himself to a set of outdated rules in order to prove himself to some higher power that may or may not be there. Far as he knows, he's only got one life here on Earth, and he's not gonna waist it on the mundane.

Cas's hypothesis opens his eyes to the shades of gray that come with the intellectual take on religion, but it doesn't clarify just how Cas views God.

So, he rolls out from underneath his car, and he asks.

"What's your definition of God?"

Cas thinks about it for a moment before answering, worrying his lip as he puts previously-unstated emotions into words. "God is... an overseer of humanity. Not the violent, wrathful being that people often preach about, but one who views all of his creations with love. He did, after all, give us free will. It is not up to him to punish or reward us for how we use it; that would eliminate its very essence. He lets us take command of our own lives and allows us to live them with the plagues and wars because it is not his place to tell us to avoid such things." Here, Cas stops, because he realizes that he doesn't want Dean to think him silly.

"That's... that's pretty cool, Cas."

Castiel's lips turn up slightly at the corners. "I take it that you don't believe in God?"

Dean shrugs and immerses himself in the delicate task of cleaning his tools. "Nah. Guess I'm just not as optimistic as you." He covers his wry smile with a grimace and then finds himself under the car once more, wrenching at a bolt that really doesn't need to be messed with.

Castiel is quiet for a long while, and when Dean works up the balls to look over at him again, he has his lips pursed. It's another few minutes before Cas says, "Life has been very unkind to you, Dean."

The man snorts. "Life is what it is, Cas. It fucks everyone just the same."

"What made you so cynical?" Cas asks, and he doesn't sound accusing like most other people do who ask him that question. Cas is concerned and confused in that way that only Cas can be, and he shows it by sliding down to sit on the dirty garage floor next to Dean, despite the fact that he's wearing a nicer pair of slacks.

Dean shrugs. "My mom used to believe. Told me every night that angels were watching over me." He shakes his head, trying to keep the emotions of the memory at bay. "No God would have let her die, Cas."

Cas slides a comforting hand into Dean's greasy one and squeezes. "God works in-"

"If you say 'mysterious ways', so help me, I will kick your ass six ways from Sunday," Dean threatens, but it comes out as a weak laugh, as if he's just trying to play the bad-boy role that he's been assigned, as if it's a redemption for venturing so dangerously into emotional territory.

"Dwelling on the negatives can overshadow the positives, Dean. My mother's death caused me and my family grief for years, yet the sun still shines." He pauses and gets a small smile on his face again, one that looks almost sad and sheepish. "I did find you, after all."

"Aw, shuddup," Dean says quietly, grinning all the while. Cas can be the most sinister guy in the whole damn state, but the guy can still find it in himself to be the sappiest lover that Dean had never expected him to be (although, he can't say he's upset that it's turned out like this).

"There is good in the world, Dean," Cas assures him once more. He kisses the grease-smudged inside of Dean's wrist before retreating back to his chair.

Dean wants nothing more than to point out the fact that any world that allowed Dean Winchester to exist while taking Mary Winchester from a family that desperately loved her must be a flawed one, but he refrains. Some things, he thinks, are best kept to himself.

"What do you pray for?" Dean asks loudly from his place beneath the car once more. He wants desperately to change the subject.

"I pray for the wellbeing of my family and of you, Sam, and Jess. I pray for your happiness and good tidings for Sam and Jess, and occasionally for the strength to make it through a difficult period." He says these things as though they aren't intensely personal thoughts and wishes. It shouldn't surprise Dean, but it does.

"You think God actually listens?"

"Of course. I think voicing my desires allows me to better pursue them, however. I am not one of the people who prays for a car and expects one to appear on my doorstep in the morning."

Dean chuckles at that. The way Cas says it, with such distaste, makes the man love Cas even more. He knows Cas wouldn't be one of the people he mentioned, but it's still good to know the man can feel the same emotions toward the same idiots that Dean does.

"Your brand of faith ain't half bad, Cas," Dean tells him.

"I personally feel that yours could use some work, but it is not my place to impose any beliefs upon you."

And, at that, Dean bursts out in a fit of surprised laughter. He loves how blunt Cas is when it comes to voicing his opinion. If Cas thinks something needs to be said, he'll say it. And, for some reason that Dean doesn't want to think about, the man's statement brings a peculiar warmth to his chest that transcends the usual love he feels.

"Yeah, well, maybe you can convert me," Dean laughs, and he's only partly joking. He's done crazier things for the younger man.

Before any other words are exchanged, Sam enters the garage looking a little more than flustered.

"Dean," he begins in a voice that is usually reserved for late night phone calls about emergencies and loved ones, "I need your help."

In the blink of an eye, Dean is out from beneath the car and is wiping off his hands. "What's wrong, Sammy? Whatcha need?"

"The moving van is gonna be here soon, and I've still got a lot of crap that needs to be packed, and I just can't do it by myself. I know you didn't want to help me because I know you don't want to see me go, but..." Sam keeps talking, everything spit out in a hurry, and doesn't hear when Dean tries to cut in.

"Sammy-"

"-there's just no way I can do it on my own and-"

"Sammy!"

Finally, Sam shuts his mouth and looks at Dean with wide eyes.

"Dammit, Sammy, take a deep breath," Dean laughs as he discards his shop rag and claps his brother on the shoulder. "I'm not gonna let my little brother have a panic attack 'bout movin' in with his girl. 'Course I'll give you a hand."

Sam's worried expression melts into an overwhelmingly grateful one. His shoulders seem to deflate with all the tense air let out of them. "Oh, God, thank you so much, Dean-"

"Might not wanna thank me yet," the older man laughs, "'M only helpin' 'cause I know you need someone with some muscle to to all the heavy liftin'."

"Oh my God, Dean," his brother groans.

And, as he chuckles, Dean turns to Cas. "You wanna come with?"

"If I won't be a burden," Castiel hesitantly agrees, looking to Sam for further affirmation.

"Cas, you aren't a burden. You'll probably be a better help than this ass over here." Sam nudges Dean playfully.

"Thank you, Sam," Cas murmurs, a soft sound that's almost lost in the midst of Dean and Sam's brotherly squabbling. The only reason he knows it's heard is Sam beaming at him happily as he beckons him to follow.

As it turns out, Sam has packed pretty much everything as far as Dean can see. There's nothing in the closet or in any of Sam's dressers. Most of his personal effects have been picked up from around the house and stored away carefully into cardboard boxes. Everything from the bathroom, from the kitchen: packed.

"What the hell you neven need our help for, Sammy?" Dean asks, confused.

Sam's only response is a sheepish shrug and, "Well, y'know, there might be some stuff layin' around the house..."

At that moment, Jess lets herself into the house, calling out, "Sam! The truck is here!" and Sam's expression becomes immediately sheepish.

"Uh..." he begins, but he doesn't even bother to finish, because Dean is staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"So you called us out for the heavy liftin', huh?" the older man asks accusingly.

"Maybe...?

Meanwhile, Cas beckons to Jess to join them in the bedroom with the rest of the family. She saunters in just in time to quip, "Ah, so I see Sam decided not to tell you that you were needed for hauling our shit to our house today, hm?" She laughs, the sound so full of happiness and expectation for things to come that Dean wouldn't dare be upset at her for it. She grabs the nearest box and gives each man a pointed look. "Well, you're here now, so how 'bout we get to it?"

And, as usual, Dean grumbles about being tricked into working, but he's not truly upset. Not when his little brother is getting the apple-pie-and-picked-fence life that he had always dreamed about. That he's more than earned. Plus, Dean thinks that it's kinda nice for all four of them to be doing something together, even if it does involve a lot more physical activity than a normal get-together would.

He really can't complain, though, because he thoroughly enjoys watching Cas work. The kid doesn't look too intimidating, as his usual attire consists of sweaters or jackets covering his t-shirts, but he's in damn good shape. It's not often that Dean gets to see the man engaging in more activity that isn't sex, and if he's honest, it's kinda hot.

And on the more romantic end of the spectrum, it's real damn nice to be able to brush up against the man as they walk out to the moving van side-by-side, to shoot Cas a goofy, lopsided grin and get a soft smile in return.

Dean isn't looking forward to Sam leaving - in fact, a change this big is scaring the shit out of him - but, he thinks, he could get used to this. Just him and Cas and the house. No one else to worry about when they want to fuck against the wall, when they're shedding clothes on the way to their bedroom. Dean is by no means getting the short end of the stick, and he's damn pleased that he has Cas to keep him sane through everything.

They finish packing relatively quickly. Growing up on the road brings with it the need to only keep the bare essentials. When Sam and Dean moved into their current home, they kept their duffel bags packed for months on end, simply because anything else felt wrong to them. As it stands, Sam hasn't really accumulated a lot since then, and having four able bodies to assist him makes a great impact on the time it takes for said things to be packed away.

For some reason, that still bothers Sam. He scours the house with a worried expression on his face, and he keeps muttering, "Know I'm forgetting something... gotta be somethin' else I can pack..."

"Sammy, seriously," Dean groans from the doorway. "It's painful watchin' you, man. How many times you gonna look in the same spots?" He watches his brother dig through the closet for the third time in the past five minutes, and it's driving him insane. "Look, man, you're not gonna be that far away. If I find your shit, I can just run it over to you."

Sam straightens up, nodding and brushing his hair out of his face. He looks a little dazed. "Yeah. Yeah, that works, too."

"Now c'mon." Jess tugs on Sam's arm, and finally, he moves with her. "We've still gotta make a run to my house to pick up my stuff, and then we have to unload everything and unpack, and..."

Jess has had a relatively stable life, and so she has far more possessions than both Sam and Dean combined. However, some of those possessions include dishes, silverware, and the basic furniture they'll need to start their life together. Plus, both of Jess's parents offer a hand in loading the rest of their items into the moving van and bid them farewell as Jess, Sam, Cas, and Dean pile into the cab of the truck while Sam drives them over to their new home.

And a beautiful home it is. It's nothing big, but it could comfortably house a small family within its white-paneled walls. The damn thing even has a white picket fence and big windows upon whose sills Dean imagines apple pies cooling in the crisp fall breeze. It's everything that anyone could ask for in their first home.

The best part, Dean thinks, is the fact that he'll only be about five minutes from his brother. Sam lives a little closer to the main parts of town than Dean, who prefers the privacy of the country and the waving cornfields that he can see from the back window. But Sammy has always been different than Dean.

"This is beautiful," Cas says. It's surprising that he's the first one to find the words to break their silence.

"Thank you, Cas," Jess says warmly, leaning over to peck the man on the cheek. It's kind of hilarious to see Cas's startled and confused expression, and Dean can't stifle the laughter. Cas glances over at him with widened eyes before he seems to gather that the kiss is a socially acceptable form of expressing gratitude. And then, his heart warms at the fact that Jess considers him close enough to her that she can do such things without a second thought.

"How 'bout we get all this crap inside, huh?" Dean asks with a grin as he opens the door. They all tumble out from their cramped confines set to work. Actually being at the house seems to calm something in Sam while also stoking the fire of his excitement. He joins in on their stupid jokes and the back-and-forth banter that is kept up constantly between Dean and Jess with the occasional quip from Cas's direction.

Dean's heart warms in his chest at the sight. It feels like they're one big family, and it's nice. He hasn't been this happy since... well, he he doesn't quite know when. It's not often that he has a happily-head-over-heels-in-love brother, a soon-to-be sister-in-law full of snark and joy, and a heaven-sent boyfriend all in one place with no worries shared between them.

Once everything is piled into the house and the furniture is placed in the general area of where Sam and Jess may one day want it to be, everyone stands, looks at each other, and takes a deep breath.

"Well," Jess says, "we're done."

"Looks like you're gonna have fun gettin' everything sorted," Dean points out as he leans against the wall with his arm wrapped around Cas and nods at their stacks of unlabeled boxes.

"Yeah, well," she smiles, "that's all part of the fun, huh?"

"I'd ask you guys to hang out for dinner, but I don't think we have anything yet," Sam states sheepishly.

"Aw, that's okay. Me an' Cas can feed ourselves. Wouldn't wanna bug you guys, anyway," the older man shrugs.

"You two are welcome whenever, okay?" Jess tells them. "I hate to cut this short, but Sam and I have to get the van back by six, or we'll have to pay for another day. D'you guys want a ride home?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, Jess."

Once more, they all pile into the small cab of the moving van. There's really only room for three people on the bench seat, so Jess just plops down on top of Sam's lap (promising not to distract him from his driving... too much).

The ride home is quiet, but the peaceful kind. When the short ride is over, hugs are exchanged between the two parties, even to Cas, who still handles hugs like they're a complete mystery to him. Dean and Cas tumble out of the car once again, the former shouting over his shoulder, "Don't forget to christen all your furniture with some good ol' housewarming sex!" loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. Sam, the pansy, actually blushes and scolds Dean while Jess just laughs and laughs.

Dean and Cas wave them off and stand out on the front porch until the van has disappeared into the distance.

"Wanna go cuddle?" Dean asks suddenly, still staring off at the road.

Cas's lip quirks up at the corner. "I thought Dean Winchester didn't cuddle."

"Yeah, well."

"Of course I'll cuddle with you, Dean."

They practically trip over each other on their way inside. It's nice to venture outdoors, but nothing beats being able to comfortably tangle their limbs together with abandon.

The master bedroom seems like the optimal place, even if the couch seems to call their name as they pass by. However, once they get there, Dean and Cas look at one another with a grimace.

"I'm sweaty, Cas," the older man whines. "How 'bout a shower instead, huh?"

"Perfect."

They could have gotten to the bathroom any faster unless they ran. As the water heats up and Dean and Cas strip down, Cas asks, "Does Sam's leaving still upset you?"

Dean, his shirt halfway over his head, pauses in bewilderment. "Geez, Cas. Sure doesn't take you long to get right down to the nitty-gritty, huh?"

"I don't understand."

"Cas, we're strippin' off our clothes and gettin' ready to shower together. Kinda not the best time for topics that aren't, y'know, 'what kind of soap do you use' or sex."

"I already know what kind of soap you use, and I did infer that sex would be involved, so I felt it was not necessary to dwell on those topics. I apologize." Cas is sporting the most damn adorable blush that Dean has ever seen. He's pretty sure that no one but Cas can look that cute while stripping down to his birthday suit. But, then again, no one but Cas can bring such girly emotions out of Dean, so the point is kind of moot.

It also makes Dean feel pretty bad, because he didn't intend for Cas to feel guilty. He drops his clothes and drags Cas into a hug. "Don't apologize, man. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But-"

"Shhh. Here, I'll make a compromise, okay? We'll briefly - and I mean briefly talk about all that sappy, emotional man-pain shit, and then we can get to the good stuff. Deal?"

"...Deal."

They part so that they can finish undressing while Dean says, "Honestly, yeah, Sammy leavin' kinda bugs me. I mean, it's been the two of us against the world for... well, for as long as I can remember. So it's weird that he won't be here everyday"

Cas understands that there's more, that Dean is not quite finished, so he prompts him with, "Please continue."

"But it wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

"How so?"

Well, me an' Sam... I love the kid to death, but if he does somethin' I don't fully agree with, we'll fight tooth-and-nail 'bout it for weeks until one of us goes and does somethin' stupid, and we just end up goin' back to the usual routine, just with more hurt feelings." Dean shakes his head. "He's just so happy, Cas. I can't take that away from him, even in the smallest amounts. I know I'm selfish, but I'm not that much of a prick."

Cas looks at Dean with a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. "I'm very glad that you shared that with me."

"Yeah, well. It ain't the end of the world," he shrugs. He wants to tell Cas that the fact that they're together also plays a huge role, that he certainly wouldn't have been able to handle Sam's moving without a support like Cas, but he can't do it. It ventures too far into a whole lot of feelings that he doesn't want to dwell on right now. So, instead, he grins and says, "So how about we focus on one of those other shower topics?"

"Dean, I already told you, I know what kind of soap you use."

Dean is just about to correct him when he sees the amusement in Cas's eyes, and he realizes that it's a joke. Even if it's kind of a bad one, it still sets him snickering, and he drags Cas into their shower, saying only, "C'mere, you."

The water is warm against their tired muscles, and it relaxes them both almost immediately. For the first few moments, they actually try to keep some semblance of a normal shower, with Dean lathering both of them up with soap and just a few wandering hands that are quickly corrected.

It's Cas, surprisingly, who breaks that normalcy and initiates contact. It's slow and steady to Dean's desperate and needly. He knows that, for all Dean seems to be coping, he's really still hurt inside, and it comes out in the way his arms hold Cas tight, like he never wants to let go, in the way it seems like he's searching for assurance that, yes, Cas is there. Castiel pushes Dean until the man's back is against the tiled wall, pressing their bodies close.

"Cas, Cas, baby," Dean whispers against the man's lips. His hands find their way to Cas's face. "Cas, I need you."

"I know, Dean," is Cas's husky response. He moves to nip at Dean's throat, but Dean pulls his gaze back to lock with his own.

"No, no, I mean-" he gulps, "I want you to fuck me."

It feels like all of the air escapes from Cas's chest in one almost violent rush. "Are you sure, Dean?"

He nods. "I need - I trust you, Cas. Please." The last word is gasped out almost unwillingly, because Cas has started grinding their hips together, and god, if that doesn't feel like heaven, then Dean doesn't know what would.

They waste as little time as possible in their foreplay, mainly because Dean doesn't know if he'll chicken out. He's never bottomed before, but Cas makes it look like a freakin' divine experience. Not to mention Cas and his goddamn hip-rolling - shit's already got him on cloud nine. Any more, and he'll be on the verge of coming without any actual fucking.

"Lube," he breathes out as Cas kisses his neck. "Need lube."

Almost immediately, Cas leans out of the shower and fishes around in the slacks that he'd been wearing earlier and appears with a bottle of lube in hand.

"You... you carry that with you?" Dean asks breathlessly, just a little confused.

Cas looks him dead in the eye and says, serious as a statue, "I wish to be prepared." And, oh fuck, if that isn't hot...

Dean doesn't get to pursue the thought for long, as one of Cas's slicked-up fingers has pushed past the ring of muscle that he'd relaxed unknowingly. He inhales in surprise.

"Are you all right?" Cas asks, all formal concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Just feels different." Dean nods for him to keep going.

Cas moves slowly at first, letting Dean becoming acquainted with the feeling just as Dean had done for him. It's not half bad, considering he has Cas sucking hickeys onto his neck and chest like they're going out of style. Dean is doing too many things with his mouth - namely, lip-biting and gasping obscenities - to be able to kiss Cas.

He adds another finger, then a third. By this point, Dean's not feeling much of that weirdness. It's all been replaced with pleasure, especially since Cas also used this time to hunt down exactly where Dean's prostate lies. However, he keeps purposely missing it with each inward push of his fingers, and Dean is pretty sure that Cas just likes hearing him beg, "Move, move, move, Cas, baby, please don't tease - oh, shit, right there!"

"I don't want you to come," Cas purrs in that unintentionally sexy voice of his. He pulls his fingers out and nips at Dean's lower lip, their eyes locked all the while. "Not yet."

"Then for the love of God, just fuck me," Dean groans as he lets his head fall back against the wall.

Cas smirks, but he wastes no time sliding into Dean. And, yes, he too feels like he's died and gone to heaven. Having Dean's warmth around him is so overwhelming that he has to gasp and drop his head against the crook of Dean's neck.

They pause like that for what feels like an eternity. Cas is holding onto Dean's hips, and Dean has his arms thrown around Cas's neck, clutching the muscles of the man's back for dear life. The water beats down on them and surrounds them with warmth, and it feels like the air is a blanket enveloping them in nothing but passion.

Cas is the first one to lift his head, and he kisses Dean softly. "Open your eyes," he commands. "I want to watch you."

In this position, Dean feels like he's baring his soul when he meets Cas's intense gaze, but it's certainly not a bad thing. And, fuck, when Cas moves, it takes all of willpower not to squeeze his eyes shut yet again because this is such an overwhelming cocktail of senses that he doesn't know what to do with himself.

The important thing is that he does keep his eyes open, and it's worth every damn second. That way, he gets to see the way Cas's lip twitches up when he rolls his hips forward, right at the exact moment when Dean's whole body is bathed in fireworks of pleasure. He gets to watch Cas bite his lip and hold in gasps, gets too see how damn good dominance looks on Cas.

He leans forward and kisses Cas slowly, and when he pulls back, he says, "Don't hold them noises in, okay Cas? Wanna hear 'em all."

Each of Cas's thrusts are pointed straight for their mark and carefully executed. Dean's wondering if that's just because they're in the shower, and, yeah, he's curious to find out just how Cas performs in an actual bed. Not like this is bad, though. It's kind of nice to have a little bit of a slower, romantic side to things. He likes that Cas's hand has found its way to his lower back, because it feels so goddamn stable. He likes that they have time to enjoy each other, to see the way pleasure glazes their eyes and to make each of their kisses long and messy, punctuated only by a moan or a gasp or an intake of breath.

"F-fuckin' perfect, Cas," Dean gasps against the other man's lips.

At that, the man moans softly. "I won't make it much longer, Dean." He reaches down with one hand and starts to stroke Dean, and he doesn't make quick work of it, either.

"C'mon, baby," Dean whispers absently, but he's too caught up in how damn great it feels to have the combined pleasure of being jacked off while being fucked. He knows his pupils are probably blown wide from all of this, which, he theorizes, is why Cas keeps kissing him like it's the end of the world.

They come together just a moment later, their mouths pressed together and absorbing the heated cries of the other.

For what seems like a very long time, they both remain there. The only change is that Dean relinquishes his death grip on Cas's back. Their eyes are still locked, and their lips are still just barely touching, and the water is still running over them.

The water is, unfortunately, the only reason why they even bothered to move at all. The heat has long since ran out, and cold water is pelting them like unforgiving oceans.

"Should probably get outta here," Dean mumbles, though he wants nothing more than to remain in Cas's arms forever.

They have to finish their shower, however, because the both of them have gone and gotten sweaty all over again. It's the quickest damn shower they've ever taken. The estimated time from their decision to finish showering to the time when they stumble out and dry off, shivering, is under five minutes.

"We definitely need pajamas tonight," Cas points out as they scurry to the bedroom together, swathed in fresh towels to keep out the cold. "And I think it'd be wise to take you up on your offer of cuddling."

Dean grins. "Oh, hell yeah."

After throwing on their pajamas - to Dean's delight, Cas is wearing one of his t-shirts - they crawl into the bed together and almost immediately find a comfortable spot to curl up in. In this case, it means that Dean is the little spoon, but he really can't be bothered to mention it.

"Thanks, Cas," he mumbles sleepily.

"I do not need to be thanked for cuddling, Dean."

"No, no," he laughs. "I mean... for bein' here and listenin' to my shit and, y'know." Dean shrugs, not wanting to continue the statement.

"You are welcome, Dean," Cas says softly, with a tenderness that makes something twist inside of Dean. The man obviously understands all of Dean's underlying meanings, which is great, since it doesn't require as much introspection.

Dean kisses the top of Cas's hand. "G'night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean. I love you."

"Love you, too."