It's Platonic

Dean’s not one for firsts.

It’s not that he has anything against the whole ‘purity’ getup – hell, he’d go so far as to say that he admires it – but despite what Sam thinks, he’s not the kind of guy who’d take away something that precious to someone for his own personal gain. Which is why he’s saying “No,” now.

“Why not?” Castiel asks, that irritating yet endearing bundle of frowns creasing his forehead. Dean rubs a hand over his face and lets out an exasperated sigh before looking back up at the fallen Angel.
“You know what you’re asking, right? I’m a dude, you’re a dude. I don’t ‘do’ dudes,”

“I wasn’t aware gender was something important to humans,” Castiel said with his childishly confused demeanour.

“Yeah, try telling that to the nut jobs who dedicate their lives to your Pa,” Dean responds curtly. He regrets it the moment it tumbles out of his mouth because now Cas is staring at him with those wide, upset, crystal blue eyes that he’d seen so many times on Sam’s face. “Look, go out. Find a chick. You’ve got the face, you’ve got the…” Dean trails off, eyes scanning Cas’s body, searching for something else and trying not to wonder what was hidden underneath those layers of clothes. “Well, you’ve got… charisma. Just go ask some nice Christian girl to do it,”

Sam decides to enter the living room then, which really shouldn’t have been surprising, considering it was his house. Dean glances at him, feigns disinterest, and turns back to the television, propping a foot on the edge of the coffee table. Of course, Dean should have known better than to think Sam wouldn’t be able to tell that he’d just interrupted an extremely uncomfortable conversation.

“What’s up?” He asks and it is clear by his tone that he’s asking what the problem is, rather than how they’re doing. Dean shrugs one shoulder and discreetly sends a glare into Cas’s direction. The angel doesn’t seem to catch on.

“Dean is refusing to kiss me,” Castiel said casually and Dean’s foot slides off the table as he looks back towards the brunette man.

“Dude,”

“I just want to know what it’s like,” Cas’s voice overlaps his and it’s sharp and bitter. “I’d rather it be with someone I trust,”

Sam looks between the two of them, frowning, hands fumbling with his car keys. He stretches his arm out, places them on the cabinet next to him and then moves forwards. He sees Dean straighten up on the sofa.

“Sam?” He asked curiously but Sam went and cut in.

“What about me, Cas?” Sam asks, ignoring him, Dean swallows and snorts uneasily.

“You for real, Birdie gonna kick your ass if she finds out you’ve been smooching with a guy,”

“Hey, you know she doesn’t mind that sort of thing. Cas has a point, I wanted my first time to be someone I trusted too. Makes sense, and Sarah would understand,” Dean stares. He stares and stares and when he catches Cas’s eye, the words he wants to say are heavy on his tongue. He should be the one to do it. He was Cas’s charge and it was him and Cas who’d worked together to stop the apocalypse. It was always them. “I don’t go for dudes either, Dean, but it’s platonic. You are as straight as they come and so am I. It’s not really a big deal,” Sam says that, but he gets nervous as he invades Cas’s personal space. Cas doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, though he seems startled and a little uncomfortable. Sam leans closer and closer and closer—

“Okay! Okay, whatever, I’ll do it,” Dean’s at his side, yanking Sam away with more force than intended. Sam actually stumbles a little and blinks up at Dean in surprise at his brother’s actions.

“Alright, alright, cool it, man,” Sam lets out a low laugh and scoops up his keys from the table. “I’ll leave you to it then,” He opens the door and leaves without looking back.

Well. Now it’s just awkward.

Dean clears his throat and wants to poke fun at the intensity in Cas’s eyes but he can’t quite find it in himself to.

“Right, okay,” Dean moves forwards, and he captures Cas’s face in his warm hands. “No funny business, ‘ight? If you start getting all touchy feely I’m outta here,” He hands out the rules, and Cas tries to nod, but Dean’s hands make his head immobile.

“Yes,” he almost whispers, eyes darting down to Dean’s lips. Dean’s heart hammers in his chest, skips a beat when he sees where Cas’s gaze has fallen to and he puts it all down to nervousness. It didn’t feel wrong to have stubble beneath the smooth skin of his palms, and that worries him.
It’s platonic.

Okay then, Dean closes his eyes, pictures Scarlett Johansson and closes the space between them. His aim is a little off, so the first contact is damp lips against the corner of a dry mouth. Castiel doesn’t move, so Dean tries again.

He spreads his lips, captures Cas’s bottom lip in between his own, presses his thumbs harder into his cheekbones. Cas’s breath finally catches and Dean feels shaky fingers press into his hips. It’s fine. Dean screws his eyes shut tighter, thinks of Miss Smith, Keira, Megan, Karen—He twists his head around, pulls away, dives back in, noses bumping. Dean crowds in closer, their belts pressing together, and pushes his open mouth over Castiel’s, biting lightly on his upper lip, soothing it with his tongue before moving away again.

“Dean…” Cas is breathless and trembling. Dean opens his eyes and the fantasy he had been playing through discards itself. It’s Castiel in front of him now – not Halle, not Zooey, or Emma – it’s the fallen Angel and his cheeks are rosy and he’s staring with all this heat and it takes Dean’s breath away.

“Okay,” Dean says, willing his heartbeat to a rhythm that’s slower and normal. “We’re done here,” He drops his hands abruptly from Cas’s face, swallowing and gulping, dizzy and – he doesn’t know why or how and it’s freaking him out – turned on.
A hand comes out to grasp his elbow.

“Once more, please,” It should sound like he’s begging, but he’s saying it with a force that sends a shiver through Dean. He clenches his jaw and stares harder at the wallpaper. Was it…Why? Never, he’d never had this thing for men. What made Cas so special?

Once more, he’d try once more. It was a fluke. Dean had been thinking of hot women and that was enough to set him off, usually.

He clenches his eyes shut and swings himself around, winding his hands into the hair at the back of Castiel’s head and pulling him forwards. He clears his mind of all women, focuses on the stubble and the wiry strands beneath his fingers and the hard body pressed to his. He teases Cas’s lips open with his and licks his way inside, sucking in a heavy breath through his nose. Cas’s hands find the planes of his shoulder blades and pull him closer, a tiny whimper sending vibrations through Dean’s tongue. It is wet and dirty, and Dean loves it. He is not disconnected anymore; he is experiencing everything.

Touch, sound, taste, there is no fantasy playing through his head, it is just him and Cas, and that makes it so much better and yet so much more confusing.

He opens his eyes, sees that Cas is staring at him with wide, blown pupils, and pulls back a little, dragging his tongue along Cas’s and leaving the tip poised between their mouths.

Damn it.

“This is freakin’ weird,” Dean clears his throat, a little ashamed of the croak in his voice. His breath seeps into the edge of Cas’s mouth and Cas swallows, parts his lips again.

“I’m enjoying this,”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Dean quips, but his amusement fades. He is kissing Castiel and their hips are so close, he can feel how much Cas is enjoying it. He moves back his head, so he can see all of Cas’s wonderful, flushed expression, keeps their bodies almost together and – oh god he can’t help it - he rolls his hips forwards just so.

The reaction is breath-taking, Cas’s eyes flash and he lets out a gasp, looking at Dean with so much ferocity and Dean just… he can’t—

He moves forwards, wraps one leg around both of Cas’s, and forces Cas’s mouth open with his tongue once again, grinding and biting and his hands move down and cup his ass and there’s whining and rapid heartbeats and pleads and—

“Hey guys, Birdie said she needs me to get her—“ Sam stops in the doorway, hand poised on the handle.

Dean practically falls off Cas and his backside collides with the back of the sofa in a mad rush to regain distance. They don’t look at Sam. They keep their eyes on each other. Cas’s lip is bleeding, Dean’s got stubble burn on his jawline and they’re both heaving in oxygen like they haven’t breathed in years.

“Um...” Is all Sam has to say, and he says it very slowly.

“We, uuh…He—“ Dean just shuts his mouth. Anything he says is just gonna make it worse.

“You…” Sam lets out a sharp laugh and his hand slides off the door handle. “No way... Dean, you and Cas?” He asked in a disbelieving tone. Dean finally looks over to Sam and his expression must give away how very wrong that doesn’t sound because when he starts to protest, Sam just shakes his head.

“Smith’s gonna freak,”

“Hey, Hey, Sam! Sam, get your ass back here!” Dean runs a hand across his mouth, wiping away the taste of Cas, and goes to leave. But Dean freezes, looks over his shoulder to where Cas is staring at him with sad, sad eyes and swallows.

“We’re not done here,” He says as quietly as he can manage and flashes him a very small smile.

“I heard that!” Sam shouts down the hallway and Dean curses. He licks his lips, runs his eyes up and down Cas’s body, and then runs after his brother. Cas stands in the room, alone. He raises a thumb to his lip, wipes away the blood, and stares at it and smiles.