Twist and Shout

June, 1966

-

There was something missing when Cas woke up, the warmth beside him gone, the bed cool beneath his touch. Music was pouring down the hallway into the open door of the bedroom, and Cas sleepily rubbed at his eyes, sitting up in bed and slipping his fingers through his hair with a yawn. Dean wasn't in bed with him, but he was still in the apartment. For a moment Cas thought it was Saturday and Dean had gone out to the track for the practice runs, but it was Sunday.

Faintly, he could hear Dean singing, a little louder than the music, and way off-key. Cas laughed to himself and hauled his stiff body out of bed, stretching his arms above his head and twisting his back, working out the stiffness of his joints and muscles. He opened the closet door and dug through the clothes hanging, coming back with a sweater and pulling it over his head; it nearly swallowed him whole, and he realized that it was one of Dean's. He hadn't even known that Dean owned a sweater. Hehe thought the only thing he owned that was any protection from the cold was his leather jacket.

He wandered out of the room and into the kitchen where Dean was, hovering over the stove, moving something around in a pan with a spatula. And then the smell hit Cas, and he moved over to where Dean was, arms snaking around his waist as he rested his head onto his shoulder. Dean jumped slightly, and he stopped singing, the music more clear without Dean's voice rising above it.

"Did I wake you up?" Dean said as he pulled the bacon out of the pan and set it onto the waiting plate beside the stove, turning the burner off and turning around in Cas' arms.

Cas hummed softly and shook his head, pressing his face into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean laughed softly and brought his arms up, holding Cas against his chest.

"You've got a big day today," Cas mumbled against Dean's neck, lips brushing against his skin.

"You're gonna go, right?"

"Of course," Cas laughed softly, pulling back to look up at Dean. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Now, what's for breakfast?"

They ate at the table, Dean sitting across from Cas, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth, and Cas looked on with a fond smile on his face. It had been about two weeks since he had moved in with Dean, and they had fallen into a routine with each other so easily. When Cas had classes, he woke up before Dean, showered and got ready, and kissed him before he headed out. On his days off, Dean woke up before Cas, letting him sleep in, and Dean normally cooked breakfast for the two of them.

And when Dean worked, Cas would stay up to wait for him to get home, busying himself with his homework or studying, and when Dean would get home, they'd have dinner together with a record playing in the background. It was a good routine. It worked.

Cas stretched his leg forward, the top of his foot grazing over Dean's leg, and Dean looked up at him, grinning.

"You're gonna do great today," Cas smiled as he picked up a piece of bacon to chew on.

"Thanks, babe," Dean laughed softly, finishing off his scrambled eggs. "But I always do great, don't I?"

"Don't be so smug."

He finished off his bacon and pushed his plate towards Dean, not too fond of eggs himself. . Dean gave him a questioning look, but Cas shrugged.

"You're gonna need it so you can blow all those other guys away."

"Don't like my cooking?"

Dean pulled the plate toward himself and began to eat the eggs, and Cas rolled his eyes, pushing away from the table and moving to the other side. He leaned over Dean and wrapped his arms around his neck, sleeves hanging over his hands past his fingers, and he pressed a kiss to Dean's cheek.

"Don't be ridiculous, I love your cooking."

Dean made an approving sound when Cas kissed his cheek again, and then he pulled away, heading toward the living room. He rifled through his records, which were now stacked against the wall beside the turntable, and pulled one out, replacing the one currently playing. Dean wandered into the living not long after, his sweats hanging low on his hips, and Cas took a moment to let his eyes rake over him.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Mm, I sure am," Cas hummed when Dean slipped his arms around his waist, pulling him against his chest as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of the sweater, dancing over his stomach. He grinned when Dean kissed along the side of his neck, hands trailing higher, warm against his skin.

"Gonna win this race for you, baby."

Cas squirmed in Dean's hold, turning around and planting his palms flat against his chest, looking up at him. Dean frowned, but Cas quickly kissed it into a smile.

"You need to get ready." Dean leaned in to kiss him again, and slid his hand up, fingers curling around the nape of his neck, slipping through the fine hairs at the base. "I'm serious," Cas said when he pulled away. "Go shower and get ready."

Dean groaned, untangling himself from Cas.

"You're just gonna nag me all day, aren't you?"

"I will if you don't get ready." Cas folded his arms and Dean threw his hands up in surrender, walking toward their bedroom. He didn't relax until he heard the shower come on, and he moved across the room to gather up one of his books; he flopped onto the couch, pulling his sleeves back and opening to where he had marked it.

He rubbed his forehead tiredly, closing his eyes every so often to rethink what he was reading, trying to get the words to stick. He was so lost in thinking about cell respiration he didn’t hear Dean open the bedroom door, hot, humid, air coming out with him. Cas scratched absently at his hair, reciting something under his breath, the bureau drawers rattling in the other room and the closet door squeaking open as Dean rifled for his gear.

“You seen my gloves?” he called and Cas didn’t look up from the page. There was more rummaging and Cas inclined his head to the side, his reaction delayed, opening his mouth to say something that he couldn’t figure to say, eyes still tracing words, mind still slipping it away for later.

“Babe,” Dean said appearing out of nowhere, his t-shirt clinging to his chest, his jeans still undone. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Cas before shaking his head and going to put his arm over the back of the couch, placing his hand over the text.

“What?” Cas said, breaking out of his daze, looking up.

“Have you seen my gloves?” Dean asked, eyebrows lifted. Cas wracked his brain, tapping at the book’s binding.

“Did you check on the table? No, wait, check the nightstand drawer. Sometimes I throw them in there.”

Dean pinched his cheek, laughing, and ambled back into the bedroom, humming to himself as he rifled through the drawer.

“Found ‘em!”

“Ok!” Cas replied, going back to his book, but he couldn’t focus like before, too busy listening to the sound of Dean taking his speed suit out, laying it on the bed. He smiled, playing with the corner of the page he was looking at. What the hell.He threw the book down and climbed off the couch, coming into the bedroom just as Dean had worked the zipper of the suit over his belly button, the sleeves hanging and dangling around his hips.

“You’re supposed to be studying,” he commented, shimmying an arm into it, the stitching accentuating the soft curve of his bicep and the broad sweep of his shoulders. Cas shrugged, wandering further into the room, coming to wiggle the zipper up Dean’s torso for him, leaving the snap at the collar undone. That wouldn’t get closed up till he was on the track. He ran his hands over Dean’s chest, loving the feel of the leather. His gloves were still on the bed and Cas picked them up, helping Dean work them over his fingers.

“This is more important,” Cas said after a while, rubbing Dean’s sides, kissing his chin and then finding his mouth, Dean’s hands settling on his waist. “You’re going to do amazing today.”

“Bring it home, right?” Dean laughed, and Cas touched the spot he’d just kissed with his thumb. Dean smiled, the pre-race gleam already gathering in his eyes. “I’m going to win the money and we’ll take a vacation. For like three days or something.”

“Three days?” Cas marveled, , “You spoil me.”

“Yes, and we’re going to actually leave the house. I have something planned.” Dean shrugged, playing it off. Cas fell in love with his shy smile and the way he fidgeted with the hem on Cas’ sweater, staring at it, “Is this mine?” he asked and Cas touched his gloved hands.

“I’m so proud of you,” Cas mumbled, smiling, still staring at their hands, “I really am. Whether you win or not.”

“Winning is nice, though,” Dean responded, ducking his head, nosing at Cas’ cheek. Cas had to laugh.

“Winning is very nice.”

“Does it impress you?”

“Hmm, not so much as how hard you work for it.”

“But the race is fun to watch, isn’t it? When I smoke ‘em?” Dean teased and Cas conceded it was.

It was wonderful watching Dean on the track. He was so sure of himself there. Nobody could touch him, and he was good at it – it was undisputable. Cas remembered the first time he had seen all the trophies in the shelf of Dean’s bedroom. He hadn’t ever really understood how good Dean was ‘til he saw them. They were all first or second place. The medals were no different.

“Please be careful, though,” Cas insisted and Dean rolled his eyes at that.

“How many have I told you – I know what I’m doing. There is literally no chance of anything bad happening.” He put his hands on Cas’ shoulders and Cas rolled them off, giving him a stare.

“I’m serious. You and I both know you let it go on the track and you can be aggressive and sometimes you take risks,” Cas trailed off, Dean shaking his head, having heard it all before.

“You know what would really help? If you came down and kissed me right before – everyone would be so stunned I’d get a ten second head start. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about anybody sneaking up on me.”

“You don’t need any kind of head start,” Cas replied, jabbing his sides. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Just be careful. Winning isn’t everything – and I’d prefer you in one piece, even if it meant they turned the gas off.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Dean offered, rubbing Cas’ arms with the flats of his hand. “I’m serious, ok? It’s not going to happen because I’m going to bag it and you can quit worrying so much.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Dean Winchester,” Cas grumped, and Dean laughed, draping his arms over Cas, staring down at him.

“It’d be nice you know. I see all of them with their girlfriends before,” he purred into Cas’ ear.

“Don’t talk like that,” Cas whispered, suddenly sad. Dean kissed him, and he tasted like tobacco and mint toothpaste, and Cas melted into him, arms winding around his back.

“I should talk like that more often,” Dean hushed into his mouth and Cas growled, playfully nipping at his lip.

“For luck,” he laughed, slapping Dean’s ass, and Dean stared at him for a long moment before taking his face in his hands and kissing him till he couldn’t breathe.

“God I’m crazy about you,” he muttered, almost to himself, kissing him in a way that smushed their noses together. “I’m so crazy for you.”

“Go on,” Cas ordered, clearing his throat, shoving him off. He picked up his bag off the bed and shoved it at him. “You’re going to miss registration, and then what am I going to do?”

Dean grinned, letting Cas push him to the door. Cas was halfway to closing it when he turned and stuck his hand in, making Cas pull up with a yelp.

“Dean I almost broke your fingers!” he cried, and Dean opened the door with his shoulder, sticking his head in.

“I love you,” he smiled. “We should go out after!”

“I love you too – and win first. We’ll talk about celebrating later,” Cas sighed, giving up one more kiss that turned into two before Dean finally let himself be shoved out the door. He was going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

Sam picked him up an hour later in Jess’s Ford, Cas sliding into the backseat, stretching his legs out. They chose a good spot, parking the car on slight rise along one of the curves, spreading a blanket on the hood. Sam lifted Jess onto it and she tucked her feet up, smiling in excitement while she adjusted the scarf around her head, fiddling with the little rose pin keeping it in place. Cas came and climbed up beside her, bringing the bag of oranges she had thrown in the backseat with him. Sam leaned against the side of the car, bending to whisper into Jess’s ear, and she covered her mouth at his words, stifling some kind of shocked giggle.

“Sammy, don’t talk like that!” she laughed, elbowing him, Sam kissing her cheek and then straightened to bounce on the balls of his feet. Cas was so glad Sam was there; he was terribly smart and was attending Stanford on a scholarship with the hopes that he could get into the law program within the year. Whether he knew about the money Dean had saved or not, Cas didn’t know, but he did know that it meant the world to Dean to have his baby brother rooting him on.

“Sam says Dean’s going to work them today – give them a real good run for the first half, let them get confident, and then pull it in big at the end,” Jess said conversationally, peeling an orange with one pretty fingernail.

Cas nodded.

“He likes to give us a show,” Sam injected, and Jess rolled her eyes and winked at Cas. Cas blushed – Jessica was too pretty to be throwing winks around, it seemed. She melted his heart with just a bat of her eyelashes.

“You’d want a show too if you were as good as he is. He must get bored just getting straight wins. You have to do something to keep yourself entertained!”

“He’s reckless,” Cas said bitterly, crossing his arms nervously. “He plays too close to the quick and he’s going to do something stupid one day.”

Jessica cleaned off a slice of orange and nibbled on it, nodding. “You know, I said the same thing to Sam the other day, but you talk sense into him, don’t you? He always listens to you!”

Cas shrugged, pulling his glasses off to clean them and then replace them on his face, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. “I might as well be teaching poetry to fish,” he laughed, and Jessica giggled, putting the rest of the orange into her mouth, turning to Sam to look at the program. Another race was taking place on the track and Cas listened to the crowd cheering, as someone won. Cas shook his hands out with anxious energy. It was almost time for Dean’s race.

“You want the binoculars?” Jess said with a smile, holding them out. Cas took them with thanks and peered across to the starting line, scanning for Dean. He smiled.

“54!” he said happily, and Jessica clapped her hands, tilting her head to look for the number. Dean walked his bike to the starting line and then slung his leg over it, crouched low in the seat. His body was nearly horizontal, the flat plane of his spine parallel with the sleek line of the bike. With his helmet on, Cas couldn’t see his face, but he could see the flex of his fingers, the subtle shift of his shoulders as he readied himself. There was a pause – Cas smiled.

“Win it for your boy,” Cas whispered, and the next thing he knew, the engines roared and the cluster drifted forward. Dean did work them – he played around for the first half, but 72 was aggressive and Dean was not to be trifled with. Cas hissed as they sped around the corner, swearing that Dean’s leg nearly grazed the pavement the turn was so close. He passed the binoculars to Sam who followed him around the track.

“Sure lead!” Sam said brightly, and Cas leaned forward, watching as they came up around the bend closest to their parked car. The three of them held their breath and yelled as Dean went past, baiting the rider beside him, neck and neck.

“Give ‘em hell!” Sam yelled, and Jess fanned herself.

“Too much excitement!” she laughed, and Cas grinned. It felt like it had just started, but the race was over quickly.

Cas threw up his hands, Jessica whooping while Sam pumped a fist, Dean sliding over the finish line like he owned the track, leading so easily it was almost criminal. He really did bully them in the first half before stealing it in the final leg. Cas looked away as Jess and Sam shared a kiss, Sam brimming with pride. He took up the neglected binoculars again, easily finding Dean’s number.

Bobby was down in the pit, and he took his hat off, waved it and then replaced it, hustling to Dean. Cas’ eyes followed Dean’s every movement as he parked his bike, shaking his head out as he pulled his helmet off and tucked it in the crook of his arm. Heaccepted the flask that Bobby offered him, leaning back to take a good pull of it. Bobby ruffled his hair as he passed it back and then pulled him in, head locking his neck to hug him, and Cas knew Dean was forcing himself to be humble, pushing the older man off with a silent laugh.

Cas flushed and Sam shoved him.

“Well, we should probably go congratulate him!” Sam exclaimed, lifting Jessica off the hood. She squealed, waving the program, talking about other races, but Cas knew they’d pale in comparison to watching Dean race. Sam set her back on the ground like she weighednothing, Cas jumping off as well, folding up the blanket, Jess scattering the orange peels into the grass. They piled back into the car and followed the others around to the front of the track, parking in the grass nearer to the pit. Dean had wheeled his motorcycle off to the side and was talking to Bobby as they all approached, his hair slicked from the helmet and his eyes bright and shining. They hung back while a reporter snapped his picture with the trophy and did a quick interview, Dean turning over his shoulder to wink at them when Bobby answered more specific questions.

“He’ll make the front page of the AFM newsletter, no doubt,” Cas joked, and Sam snorted, eager to go towards Dean, his arm slung around Jess’s waist.

“You’re terrible,” Jess laughed, and Cas smiled, watching Dean gesture at something on his bike, talking about the make. He looked so lean in his leathers and Cas licked his lips unconsciously. Dean was always in a good mood after a big win.

As soon as the reporter was gone, Sam strode forward, taking Dean by the arms and shaking him lightly, a grin on his face.

“You were mint!” He smiled. “absolutely mint!” Dean shrugged, pulling him into his arms again.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he muttered into Sam’s ear, and Sam held him back, Dean clapping his shoulder and then releasing him, Sam launching into the list of questions he had saved up.

Jess stayed back, leaning against Cas in Sam’s absence, the backs of their hands brushing, watching Dean show off his bike and his gear, grinning toothily at Sam as his younger brother bent forward, inspecting everything. Cas smiled down at Jess as she smiled up at him. She was beautiful, the sun making her hair a bright gold color. She was perfect for Sam.

Jess cleared her throat when Sam and Dean began bickering over something, and they both stopped, straightening up.

“Jess!” Dean said sweetly and she came forward and threw her arms around his neck.

“You were the finest one out there,” she teased and Dean laughed nervously as she stepped back, adjusting her purse in her hand with a sigh, addressing the group.

"Well, Sam promised me dinner, and I'm going to hold him to his word. So, Cas, if you want, we can drop you off at home before?"

"Oh," Cas looked between Jess and Dean, and Dean shrugged a shoulder before wiggling away from Sam when Sam began to jab at his side, laughing.

"Or Dean can take Cas. I mean, they're both going to the same place," Sam interjected, moving to stand beside Jess, curling his arm around her waist. "Plus, it'll be one less place to stop off before dinner – that way we can get back to campus earlier."

"Great idea, Sammy! You two go have dinner, have fun! And be safe. Call when you get back, alright?" Dean grinned again, and Cas could tell that it was from nerves. Dean really didn't know how to act with Cas around his brother and his girlfriend, and to tell the truth, Cas didn't know either. He was sure that Sam and Jess knew about the two of them, but neither of them had said a word about it.

Sometimes Dean would tell Cas that he wanted to tell Sam - tell about how much he loved Cas - but he just didn't know how, and Cas didn't know how to help him. Sam knew that Dean wasn’t straight, but he’d never outright asked about it. Cas could only try to reassure Dean that his brother seemed to love him no matter what. Sam didn’t seem like he was going to quit talking to either of them anytime soon, which relieved Dean temporarily, but he was antsy around them nonetheless.

"Well, we’d better get going if we're going to get into the restaurant," Jess smiled, pulling away from Sam to wrap her arms around Cas suddenly. After a moment Cas hugged her back, his face brushing against her curly hair. He squeezed her tight, and when she pulled away, he felt a sort of longing; it reminded him of his sister, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her again and just hold her. "It was nice seeing you, Cas," she whispered in his ear, leaning back to take his hand in both of hers. "You should definitely hang out with us one day. We should all get together and go somewhere. Go see a movie or something!”

"Maybe one day, Jess," Sam jumped in, slugging Dean in the shoulder before Dean pulled him into another hug, purposefully squeezing the life out of him. Sam squirmed in his hold, but eventually brought his arms up, patting Dean’s back. "Congratulations on the win, Dean. We'll see you guys around!" He waved as Jess pulled herself away from Cas, taking Sam's hand and walking back to their car.

Men were filing out of the track one at a time with their bikes, and Cas could see Bobby heading their way. He moved to stand beside Dean, filling the gap, automatically leaning toward him until their arms were barely touching. If Bobby noticed when he approached them, he didn't say anything. Instead, he handed over the money that Dean had made, and then Dean handed it over to Cas.

"Put that in your pocket."

Cas nodded and took the cash from Dean and slipped it away.

"That was a great race, boy," Bobby was smiling, and he turned to Cas. "You should be proud of him, Cas."

"Oh, I am." Cas’ cheeks flushed and he toed at the ground, smiling.

"Well, I oughta head home. I'll see you at the garage tomorrow, kid." Bobby nodded towards Cas, “Cas.” and Cas said his brief goodbye watching him walk away.

He let his eyes wander to Dean’s face, trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Good run,” he started and Dean nodded, looking past Cas’ shoulder at the other competitors. He nodded again, glancing at Cas through his lashes.

“Yeah – too easy though. Coulda used a challenge. That’ll be next week during trials. Boyd is in town and he owes me a rematch,” Dean said, pulling his gloves off, flexing his fingers. Cas longed to reach out and run his hands through Dean’s helmet hair, but he had to refrain for the moment.

Dean kept staring at him and Cas swallowed.

“What?” he said in a low voice, and Dean edged closer.

"I wish I could kiss you right now." He bent his head right against Cas’ ear, and Cas’ cheeks went red.

"Don't say that."

"Why not?"

Cas sighed and pulled away from Dean, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"What if someone hears?"

"Then let them hear."

Cas rolled his eyes, but all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around Dean's middle and bury his face into the crook of his neck and just tell him how much he loved him. Not everyone had left the track yet, so instead he just reached out to him, fingers trailing over the leather covering his arm.

"I'm proud of you."

Dean smiled and caught Cas' fingers as they passed his hand, turning his body to block the view so that no one could see. And they stood there for a few minutes, just barely holding hands, but it was enough for them.

“Come on,” Dean continued, tugging on Cas a little, and Cas followed, only a step behind till he caught up and walked beside him. Dean led him all the way back to the storage building on the side of the track, and once he knew no one was back there, pulled Cas around, pushing him up against the grey cement. There was a roar of motorcycles as the next race started, the crowd cheering, unaware of them.

Cas sank into the kiss, hands rubbing Dean’s arms up to his shoulders and then to his chest, fingers slipping to the zipper of Dean’s speed suit, pulling it down to reveal the plain t-shirt under it Dean shrugged out of the sleeves, still kissing him, his pelvis keeping Cas pinned to the wall.

“You like watching your boy?” Dean rasped, dragging his hands down Cas’ torso, nipping at Cas’ neck. Cas’ nails bit at the small of Dean’s back as he pushed his hips up to meet Dean’s, sighing against Dean’s hair, leaning back to give him more access to his skin.

“Watching me win – so I can bring it home and take care of you…” Dean drawled, his thumbs pressing into Cas’ hips, rocking with him. “Take such good care of you. Take such good care of my baby,” he continued, sliding their mouths together, swallowing up the moan Cas emitted, hands dropping to his ass, pulling him in as close as he could get.

Dean leaned his cheek against Cas’, both of them panting as they rutted against each other, Cas kissing along his jaw and biting at his shoulder.

“Dean, we shouldn’t – wait…wait…not o-on my clothes, and someone could see,” Cas groaned, and Dean considered this for a moment, but his hands were already fumbling with Cas’ belt, getting his dick out.

“Just get off, baby, you worry too much.” He smiled into the corner of Cas’ mouth, jerking him fast and hard, but kissing him gently, the other hand reaching in his pocket to pull out the rag he always kept there. “I’ve got you.”

Cas’ breath hitched at the words and he dug his hands into Dean’s shoulders, looking into Dean’s eyes with a glazed expression. Dean stared back at him for a while, and then looked down to see Cas’ stomach heave as he finally came, Dean catching it with the rag, Cas gasping as the cloth brushed against the sensitive head of his cock.

“Oh,” Cas breathed, reeling as he came down. “Jesus, Dean,” he whispered, his legs shaking while Dean tucked him back up and kissed him. Cas palmed Dean’s hard-on through his suit and Dean moaned, leaning into him, rocking his hips into Cas’ palm.

“You’re hopeless,” Cas murmured, Dean gasping again as he applied more pressure. “So impatient when you win…” he said hotly against the shell of Dean’s ear. “…I should probably reward you.”

Cas slid down the wall, dropping to his knees, not even caring if his slacks got dirty. Dean made him reckless and stupid and wild. He looked up at Dean as he licked a stripe up to the tip of his dick, now free and so close to coming. He wasn’t going to last, but Cas didn’t mind. Dean had taken care of him, and now it was his turn. Dean’s fingers fisted into his hair and smoothed it away from his forehead as he worked him with long, graceful, sucks, pausing every so often to toy with the head, tonguing at his slit.

“- shit,” Dean choked, bracing himself on the wall as Cas swallowed a few moment later, wiping his mouth and then putting Dean away, zipping the zipper up to his navel as he stood. Dean smiled at him, dopey and sated.

“Good?” Cas asked, and Dean leaned in and kissed him He hummed against Cas’ lips as Cas zipped him up the rest of the way, adjusting his collar.

“Is there a sequel?”

“When we get home,” Cas admonished, pecking him. “After you’ve gotten that wonderful money and we’ve paid our utilities and eaten and done all that.”

“Awww, we have to eat first?”

“Then wait thirty minutes. Don’t want you cramping,” Cas squeezed Dean’s ass, laughing while Dean pushed him against the wall again, getting lost in his mouth. He pulled away and kissed Cas’ cheek.

“Thirty minutes,” he sighed, straightening Cas’ shirt. Cas lifted his hand and kissed Dean’s palm.

“I think we could get away with fifteen,” he muttered, watching Dean chuckle. The sun framed him, and he glowed from the inside, arm on either side of Cas’ body, like a house around him. He dipped his head and kissed him, and Cas brushed their noses together. He didn’t need to tell Dean that when he looked up at him again he filed the image somewhere in his mind. It would have a lovely label, like all the rest, tucked up for a rainy day.

The one where Dean stands with the sun behind him, looking at me like we’ve known each other for sixty years.

Cas found them in a box in the back of Dean’s closet while looking for light bulbs.

Two garters, a nightie and a pair of virginal white lace panties.

Cas dug briefly through the box and frowned at the underwear.

“Dean?”

“Hmm,” Dean said around his cigarette, cleaning motorcycle parts, newspapers spread over the kitchen table to protect it,, his booted feet propped up on the window sill, fingers covered in motor grease.

Cas brought the box in and set it down in his lap.

“What are these?”

Dean glanced in the box and smiled, pulling the knickers out. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“Ah, my souvenir box.”

“Souvenir box?”

“Well, sometimes chicks forget their things on the way out the door,” Dean amended, smirking, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. Cas scowled and snatched the box away, Dean laughing as he resumed his his task.

“Jealous is a good color on you!” Dean commented as Cas shoved the box back up on the top shelf.

“So you just kept their underwear?” Cas snapped and Dean threw his head back and laughed.

“Yes, I kept their underwear! It doesn’t mean anything! I haven’t even looked at it since I put it up there, which was probably, what? A year ago? Longer?” He held up some kind of rod and inspected it, and then went back to rubbing at the metal. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna wear it anyway! I’m not one of those pervs that just gets off on the lace. Gotta be a hot body in it, babe.”

Cas shook his head and kept looking for light bulbs.

“You not gonna talk to me?”

“I think you’re ridiculous,” Cas concluded, his face feeling hot for some reason. “Nobody I know keeps other people’s underwear around after they’ve left. It’s creepy.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stubbed his cigarette out into his empty coffee mug.

“You’ll forget it soon enough. Why don’t you just drop them off at the Salvation Army? They’d be pleased to have them” he said, scratching at his stomach through his grubby white shirt.

The problem was that Cas couldn’t stop thinking about them.

It was hot, and Cas laid next to Dean with the sound of traffic bleeding through the open window screen, and all he could think about was the box. Dean said something in his sleep and Cas tried to close his eyes, but all he could think about was the stupid box filled with frilly underwear. His face heated up and his whole skin itched a little as he thought about it and what Dean had said.

Hot bodies, huh.

That’s how Cas ended up staring at the underwear again, only this time Dean was gone. Cas sat on the floor with the box and stared at it. He didn’t know why it offended him so much. It was like Dean said, it was just a box of underwear. It didn’t mean anything – only it did. Girls before him had worn them and then left them behind and Dean had kept them like some kind of weird trophies.

“Or he just kept them because he may have thought they’d come back,” Cas said out loud, holding up the nightgown. It was a short, pale blue, thing with an embellished neckline and lace hem at the bottom, but otherwise sheer. He’d seen nightgowns like that before in catalogues his sister used to thumb through, and he knew it was a rather expensive one. He stared at the garters and the panties too.

They were clean, and Cas ran his thumb over the high-waist lace frills, the texture foreign, his eyes combing over the intricate design. There was a delicate little bow centered right over the crotch There were three stockings in the box as well that he hadn’t seen at first – two matched and one didn’t. Cas stared at it all and bit his lip. He turned back to the nightgown.

He ran his hand over the silky material and put his hand inside of it, looking at his fingers beneath the light blue mesh – just see through enough to be visible, but just chaste enough to leave the details to the imagination.

Dean had probably expected, at some point, for the girls to come back and claim their garments. He was, at heart, sweet. Even if they were one-night-stands, as Cas suspected they were, Dean was good enough to have them laundered. Cas could see Dean at the Laundromat four blocks over, with his shirts and oil stained jeans and a silk nightie, probably smirking at the old men who ogled it.

It wasn’t so much the girls that bothered him. It was just that Dean had enjoyed himself because someone was wearing them. Someone else. It could have been the president in frilly knickers and Cas still would have been jealous because Dean had probably been sufficiently turned on. Cas swallowed and stared at his hand in the nightgown before stretching it out in front of him.

It looked…

Cas felt crazy.

It looked like it would fit. All of it looked like it would probably fit. He lacked the swelling curves of most girls, so there was probably more give in the garments than their fragile forms insinuated.

Cas glanced at his watch.

Five thirty.

Dean’s shift didn’t end until seven.

Cas looked at the box and smirked.

“A hot body, huh,” he whispered to no one, feeling a sudden something tingle down his spine, “We’ll see about that.”

Three hours later, Dean was home and after some coaxing had disappeared behind the bathroom door. Cas heard the scream of the pipes as he started the shower and immediately began stripping his clothes, hastily putting his plan into motion. First the garter, sitting on his waist, and then the stockings, slowly unrolling them the way he had watched his mother do them when he was little before clipping them into the hold ups dangling against his thighs. Then the panties, tucking everything into them and kicking his pants under the bed, finally taking a moment to stop and just stare down at his silk-clad legs. Now that he was finished, he put his hands self-consciously over his bare chest and then teased at the edges of the garter belt and the panties, making certain that the lines were as straight as he could. Then he slipped the night gown over his head, the material slithering down over his skin, making goose bumps erupt over his arms.

He heard the tap squeak off and the sound of the curtain being pulled aside as Dean stepped out, coughing lightly, and Cas froze.

He felt suddenly nervous, but he knew that he trusted Dean. He just didn’t know if he trusted him not to laugh. He slowly backed out of the bedroom into the kitchen, where he ran and closed all the drapes and flicked off the light. He heard the bathroom door open and Dean came out, singing something under his breath.

“Cas, you wanna listen to something?” Dean called, and Cas felt like his voice was lost for a moment as he wracked his brain, trying to sound normal. He heard Dean pull out the box and flip through the vinyls. “Elvis?” He heard the smile in Dean’s voice as he said that and Cas blushed crimson, standing just inside the dark of the kitchen.

“Put on that new American Breed,” Cas said, finally, and Dean started flipping faster.

“Oh, I liked this one. Heard it today on the radio,” Dean said, ignorant to Cas’ strange behavior completely. Cas felt his heart thrumming as he took a step forward. “What are you doing in there?” Dean added after a few seconds, busy with setting up the record.

“Oh, getting some water,” Cas replied, the words coming out in a rush as he crossed the small living space and stepped into the dim bedroom, Dean’s back to him. Dean set up the record and then fiddled with the window, putting it up. Cas stood behind him, watching the flex of the his shoulders as he struck a match and lit up a cigarette, leaning over the sill to watch the traffic below. It was a hot night and Cas chewed his lip again as he took off his glasses and then set them down on the dresser to his right.

“Dean,” he said breathily and Dean perked up and turned around.

“We should-” Dean’s sentence dropped off, his eyes slowly widening as he stared at him. Cas watched his cigarette dangle off of his bottom lip until Dean hastily pulled it out of his mouth and ground it carelessly into the ashtray beside the record player, his eyes snapping back to Cas, the disbelief in them easily read. Cas walked carefully forward, the lace hem brushing just above the tops of his stockings. He slowly picked up Dean’s hands and pressed them to his sides, the material of the nightie bunching as Dean’s fingers clamped down on his waist, fingers bumping along the edges of the garter beneath them.

Dean just gazed blankly at him, his eyes running up and down before becoming glued to the slivers of skin shifting just below the surface of the nightgown. Cas leaned in and slithered his hands up Dean’s naked chest and over his neck, pulling his head gently back to stretch the skin.

“You said something,” he whispered on the hot, velvety warmth, still damp from the shower, “about it not meaning anything unless someone’s wearing them.”

He watched Dean’s throat hitch with a breath and Cas kissed him there, the music picking up and flooding into the room.

Everybody tells me I’m wrong, to want you so badly…

“Oh, Jesus,” Dean exhaled as he pulled Cas’ hips flush with his own. “Jesus…Jesus…”

Cas kissed up his jaw and then finally slid their mouths together, Dean moaning low and long, his fingers tightening and relaxing, starting to rub up and down Cas’ sides.

“Fuuuck...” was the next thing that Dean said, but that was because Cas was dropping to his knees and yanking Dean’s boxers aside. He didn’t waste time getting Dean’s half-hard dick in his mouth, looking up, as he slid it slowly in and out, his hand coming up to work the base. Dean met his eyes and Cas arched his back, sticking his ass out. He shifted his hips so that the night gown slid down into the dip of his spine, exposing the panties and the belt and the stockings properly.

Dean’s elbow, which was now supporting him, shifted and knocked the record player and the track skipped and then resumed as Cas worked his cock in earnest, still watching Dean’s face.

“Oh, baby, so good,” Dean sighed after a minute. “Christ, Cas, you…” He stopped talking and made a choked sound as Cas closed his eyes and took as much as he could, holding for a second and then pulling back, panting and swallowing to regain control of his throat. Still couldn’t do it as well as he wanted, but Dean wasn’t complaining.

Dean watched his head bob up and down a few times, and Cas felt almost drunk on the smell of dick and soap and the music playing in the background. He moaned, spreading his knees on the carpet, his own cock starting to strain at the panties, rocking a little in a slow fuck of the air.

“J-Jesus,” Dean whimpered. “Jesus what’s gotten into you – oh fuckkkk baby, right there, oh baby, right there.”

Cas toyed with the end of Dean’s dick, licking at the sensitive underside with the flat of his tongue, letting it sit there, hot and heavy, and then slid down again. Dean brought his hand to the back of Cas’ head and Cas gasped in surprise, clawing at Dean’s bare foot with blunt nails while Dean’s fingers raked through his hair. Deans hips canted upwards and Cas kissed and nipped at the sharp V of his bones for a moment before looking back up at him.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dean hissed, cracking his eyes to look down. “Oh, Jesus, look at you,” his hand still on Cas’ head. Cas imagined he was a sight – his lips tingled and his tongue felt huge as he licked around his mouth and breathed, pulling Dean’s boxers all the way down, Dean stepping out of them. He felt boneless as Dean reached down and hauled him up, Cas rolling his head back in a dizzy motion when he felt the front of the panties, now damp, grind against Dean’s torso.

“What do you want?” Dean said, suddenly aggressive. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.” He met Cas’ neck with his teeth and pulled the hem of the night gown up, scratching at his sides and back. Cas didn’t respond and Dean growled as he ran his hands over Cas’ back. He shoved him backwards and Cas felt the familiar bite of the mattress into the back of his knees, but Dean swiveled so he was the one sitting, Cas in front of him.

Dean’s hands slid all over Cas’ lower body, cupping his ass through the material of the underwear, fingers teasing and tugging at the edges, skating just underneath the nightgown, eating up all the skin with their touch, and then back to his ass, squeezing and running over the fabric over and over.

He couldn’t seem to stop as he pressed his cheek to Cas’ covered chest.

“So sexy…so sexy,” Dean babbled, and Cas kept his hands braced on Dean’s shoulders until Dean palmed his dick and Cas leaned down to kiss him. There was nothing gentle about it at first, but soon they slowed and Cas was mindlessly rocking into the tight curl of Dean’s fist. He lost track of it all until Dean started pulling the nightgown up more and more with his unoccupied fingers, hooking them into the front of the garter to tug Cas onto the bed.

On his back, Cas moaned at the loss of contact, his cock slapping at the garter belt, the panties pulled halfway down his shaft, elastic straining. He felt so hot all over, the feeling of the silk stockings dragging on the rumpled covers driving him nearly mad.

“Touch me,” he breathed, dragging Dean’s hands toward his body, somewhere, anywhere. He really didn’t care where they landed at this point.

Cas got an eyeful as Dean descended on him, using his teeth to snap the edge of the panties, lips brushing his heated skin, but not enough. Dean’s hands on his thighs were the only thing keeping him from jackknifing off the bed completely as Cas gasped. Dean rolled the panties down and Cas shimmied his hips, helping him, until they were flung gracelessly somewhere behind them, discarded.

Finally free, Cas groaned as Dean slid his hands up and down his legs – each time he ascended up his thigh he would travel past his cock to the garter, to his hips, and then trail back down, over and over, the pads of his fingers tracing over the seams against his legs.

He finally thumbed over the deep V of his inner thighs, and Cas nearly yelled at the feeling of Dean dropping his own hips to rut against the top of one stocking.

Dean rocked himself up towards Cas’ face, crushing their lips together, hands abandoning his lower half in favor of his nipples, scrunching the fabric of the nightgown up to rake over them.

Cas made some ragged noise and Dean hooked his hands back under his knees and pushed them open. Cas’ head swam.

“I’m gonna make you say fuck till you’re blue in the face,” Dean said, searing another kiss over Cas’ mouth. “Gonna make you say fuck till you don’t know what else to say…”

Cas nodded stupidly, moaning.

Dean stood up, the mattress whining with the loss of his weight, and dug down in the nightstand for the slick. Cas’ body bounced slightly when Dean crashed back to the bed, digging into the container, swiping the grease out before reaching down between Cas’ legs.

“Wider…” Dean grunted and Cas pulled his legs even farther apart, showing himself off. Dean looked down at him and finally, finally -

“Oh, fuck!” Cas cried out, arching. “Right there.”

“I know, baby,” Dean growled, smiling, bending to kiss his stomach as he worked his fingers – oh, God, there was another, but Cas was fine. He could take it. “I know.”

“Gonna take me…so good,” Dean said, and Cas heard the tell-tale sound of him greasing his cock with one hand, a wet, hot, hot noise. Cas let his legs go and pinned Dean’s body to his, smoothing the stockings over his back and hips, Dean shuddering at the feel.

Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me, long as you love me, it’s alright -

“Get to it,” he bit and Dean slid his fingers away, and the blunt head of his cock replaced them.

However long it actually took was lost to Cas, but it felt agonizingly slow as Dean sank into him, everything sensitive in the sticky heat of the evening. The sun was decending further behind the skyline, painting the sky a deep wine purple that trailed into the apartment’s bedroom, dragging its fingers over their bodies in stripes of shadow.

Cas felt every nudge as Dean shifted, fucking into him with a shallow movement.

“Like you mean it,” he gasped, and Dean complied, and Cas heard the delicious sound of the headboard as it cracked against the wall. Dean laid into him, Cas’ ankles jostling apart, his legs falling open, but then, without warning, Dean suddenly stalled.

The noise it wrenched out of Cas clashed with the record still playing, and as he clenched around Dean’s cock, trying to cope with the feeling of that deep, aching, fullness, Dean took a moment to pin Cas’ arms on either side of his head.

“No,” he said to Cas, rocking in another one of those short strokes that made Cas writhe.

“Dean.”

Dean bent his head low, still barely moving, tracing his hand over the back of Cas’ silk-clad leg. He snapped the top and Cas panted against his mouth as Dean kissed him chastely.

“What if I married you like this? Fuck the rings…all laid out for me…”

Cas moaned and shifted again, fucking himself down onto Dean’s cock.

“…like some June bride…”

“Fucking move,” Cas moaned again, surging forward to kiss him. Every tiny movement reminded him of that igniting fullness, Dean’s dick throbbing against the inside of him. “Gonna lose my mind…if you – !”

He yelped as Dean slid out of him and hovered at his rim, testing him, his grip on his wrists so tight his hands were beginning to tingle.

“Who would marry you with a mouth like that? Nobody,” Dean said and he kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth, slamming his hips back into him. Cas’ fingers opened and closed over the empty air. “Fuckin’ nobody, Cas.”

“You’ve ruined me,” Cas gasped. “They all know it – you’ve ruined me…”

“I love you,” Dean cut him off, his voice coarse with arousal; hushed it right against his ear, and Cas could feel their heartbeats, and every edge of his cock where it was again, and he was so painfully still, and he felt his knees jumping off the bed, toes flexing in the tight sheath of the stockings, trying to handle it. “I’d marry you…I would….” His hips ground down, circling.

“Then marry me,” Cas said, not even sure of what he was saying. “Marry me right now.”

Whatever control it was taking Dean to not move dissolved. Cas’ voice unhitched from the back of his throat and he groaned as he took Dean over and over in smooth thrusts that brought their hips together in perfect collisions.

“Say it, Cas,” Dean panted, kissing his neck. “Cas, please,” he nearly whimpered and Cas felt his mouth ghosting over his and his hands were suddenly free. They gravitated to Dean’s face, holding him there as he brushed against that one place that made every movement after become tinted with the white glow of Christmas lights.

“Fuck, or I love you?” he asked, kissing him fiercely, tugging on Dean’s lip, watching it go pink when he released it before licking into his mouth again. He tangled his tongue over Dean’s, at the inside of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth and the hot heat of his tongue as it met his again.

“Either,” Dean groaned, pulling away. “Shit, baby.”

“I love you,” Cas repeated, and Dean let out another rough, low sound. “Dean, ah, touch me-” Cas hissed, his toes curling.

His hands slid around to his back, scratching at Dean’s shoulders as Dean dragged his own fingers down his chest to his neglected dick. He seized it and in five quick slides, Cas was digging his nails in, coming against the bunched fabric of the night gown.

“Fuck!” He clamped down hard, everything seizing up, and then he was boneless, Dean thrusting once into him and then sucking in a sharp breath, and two – three – shallow kicks of his hips. Cas felt the warmth spread into him and his chest heaved as he leaned his head back against the blanket and breathed. Dean waited a moment and then slipped out with a wet sound and Cas shivered at the feeling of emptiness. He didn’t like it and immediately grabbed Dean and pulled his weight down, one hand tangled into his hair the other rubbing over his back and the dip of his spine, the soft swell at the beginning of his ass, and then back again.

“Shh,” Dean whispered, sitting up. He kissed him gently. “Honey, shh.”

Cas didn’t realize he was talking until Dean kissed him again.

“I know…I know, I love you too.” He kissed Cas’ chin, his neck again, the skin so hot against his mouth, as he slowly undid the top buttons of the night gown and tugged upwards. Cas lifted his arms and let him slide it off as Dean worked his way down, undoing the garter clasps. He kissed Cas’ thigh as he unhooked the stockings, rolling them down each leg and throwing them on the floor. Once Cas was bare he laid back down, pulling him into his arms, their skin cooling as night started to really set in.

A car honked down on the street and Dean pressed his cheek against Cas’ hair.

“If I left, would you keep my things?” Cas asked after a moment, moving so he could look at Dean properly. Dean stroked his fingers over Cas’ shoulder, looking out the window instead of him.

“Dean?” he probed, touching his hip.

“Yeah.” Dean breathed, closing his eyes. “But you wouldn’t go,” he added, “so I wouldn’t have to.”

“Married people don’t leave each other,” Cas whispered, his own eyes drifting shut and then opening again. He didn’t want to fall asleep just yet.

“That’s true,” Dean said, his voice heavy. “They aren’t supposed to.”

“I won’t go.”

Dean kissed his hairline and then let Cas wiggle free to pull the quilt over them, tucking it first around Dean’s back and then burrowing under himself, pressing their chests together once they were underneath.

“We’ll just be married,” Dean said softly, and then, suddenly, he realized the record had stopped. “That’ll be just it. We’ll just be married and we can stay like this.”

Cas turned his head and kissed him.

“You’re supposed to kiss at weddings,” he muttered, and Dean kissed him back after a moment of thought it seemed, kissed him harder than Cas had expected him too. He buried himself in the crook of Cas’ neck after that, silent.

He closed his eyes, holding him, the ache of emptiness between his legs lessened.

“Oh, Dean,” he hushed, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Just the name as Dean kissed his collarbone and then resettled his head, the skin of his forehead still damp where it met Cas’ shoulder.

Another car honked, and a pigeon flew by with a flutter of wings.

“I won’t go.” Cas repeated, but he didn’t think that Dean was awake to hear him.