“Gabriel, I swear to God, if you pull another fucking prank on me this year for my birthday, I will actually kill you,” Dean threatened as he left the office, scowling at the golden-haired short man who sat grinning at his own desk.
“Relax, Deano! Me and Sambo have everything covered for the big day tomorrow! Ain’t that right?” he asked, glancing over at where Sam was waving cheekily from behind his desk. “I mean, you’re hitting thirty, the big three-oh, we aren’t gonna spoil that with something stupid!”
“Yeah, right,” Dean muttered as he got into the elevator, waving at his brother and his best friend. He wouldn’t put anything past them.
Later on, he would say he should have seen this coming. Then again, it was how he met the love of his life, so he wasn’t really complaining either way.
Over at his desk, Gabriel smirked at Sam as he clicked the “request” button. “Bingo!”
Dean’s quiet evening – a nice long hot shower, with a quick fingering and cleaning of his ass (because why the hell not, he liked being clean down there, even if he hadn’t actually come out to anyone – not even Sam – yet, plus it felt so damn good), finishing off with a round of pizza, beer and Star Wars in his underwear – was rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. Not bothering to cover his torso, he hit the ‘stop’ button on the remote, stalked over to the front door of his apartment, wrenched it open with a scowl, and stopped dead, eyes widening at the sight.
A man stood in the hallway, adorned in a rumpled suit covered by a tan trenchcoat. He had enormous dark blue eyes and dark, messy hair that practically begged Dean to run his hands through it and tug. Currently the man was peeping up at him through thick, dark eyelashes, a shy smile on his mouth.
The man’s deep tones – did he gargle with gravel?? – thrummed with a thick Spanish accent, and if his appearance alone hadn’t been enough, this was definitely enough to send a thrill through Dean’s body straight to his dick.
“Um?” was all Dean could respond with. The man’s smile became coy.
“Dean Winchester?” He stepped closer, and Dean’s breath caught. “You? Dean Winchester?”
“Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” Dean’s fingers twitched with the need to touch the man, to pull him close and….fuck.
Hello, repressed-sexuality-that-not-even-Sammy-knows-about. He cleared his throat. “Who are you?”
The man positively beamed. “Me, Castiel. You, Dean. Dean Winchester. We make sex now?”
“We – wait, what?!” Dean stared at him. “Did – did you – what?!”
The man – Castiel – tilted his head to one side. “I am Castiel. You are Dean Winchester. We have sex now?”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“We make fucking?”
“That’s – that isn’t – that is NOT what I meant!” Dean stumbled backwards as Castiel walked into his apartment, babbling in Spanish. “Dude!” Castiel pushed the door shut.
There is a crazy guy inside my apartment who wants to have sex with me. There is a crazy, attractive guy in my apartment who wants to have sex with me. There is an attractive guy inside my apartment. Who wants to have sex with me. What the FUCK is happening?
“I…” Castiel’s forehead creased. “I was sent here…to have sex with Dean.” He perked up. “You are Dean. I am Castiel. Sex now?”
Fucking Christ, he looks like an excited kitten. A really, really, sexy kitten. Who should be naked in my bed and…
“Yeah, okay,” Dean said, before his brain had any say in the matter whatsoever. Any further arguments he may have had were cut off as Castiel was instantly in his arms, slamming him against the wall and kissing him feverishly. Dean melted into the kiss, submitting to the tongue that was currently making good work of fucking into his mouth. He moaned, grasping at Castiel and pulling him closer. At the feeling of Castiel’s clothes brushing against his skin, he pulled away with a slight gasp and began to fumble at the buttons, much to Castiel’s delight. “Clothes. Off. NOW.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Castiel chanted, stripping himself so that he was down to his boxers as well – only, they weren’t boxers. Instead, the demure (hah!) Spaniard was standing in Dean’s living room, naked except for the lacy pair of pink panties – a goddamn thong, of all things – slung low on his hips that did absolutely nothing to hide the size of his erection – the tip of which was peeking out the top of the underwear. He smiled at Dean, batting his eyes. “You like?”
“Nngh.” Dean had never been so submissive in his entire life. He sank to his knees, kissing down the sinewy torso until he was mouthing desperately at the damp bulge that was there, worshipping the mysterious, beautiful man with his mouth. Castiel groaned and threw his head back, lean hands clutching at Dean’s hair feebly. Dean, suddenly unbelievably horny – how did he even KNOW about the underwear?? Who the hell is he?? – shot up and kissed Castiel deeply, the pair of them so wrapped up in one another that there wasn’t a single inch of space between them. Dean could finally feel what he’d been craving all these years, ever since he was a curious seventeen year old – the press of a thickened, hardened cock nestled beside his own, flat torso pushed up against him, nipples already stiff and sensitive to the touch – and he gasped into Castiel’s mouth, hips bucking of their own accord. “I dunno who the hell you are, but if you aren’t in my bedroom in the next two seconds I might die.”
Well, not literally. He was out of Dean’s arms and peering in an open doorway in a sudden rush of movement that left Dean devoid of the heat his body had provided, dashing in excitedly. “Bed! Dean! Bed!”
Dean grinned, taking a moment to think – what the fuck is happening? Should I ask him? – before he followed, stopping dead in the doorway to his bedroom.
Apparently he’d been taking too long, because the Spaniard was lying on Dean’s bed, hand reaching into his – gorgeous – pink underwear and running up and down his cock, eyes closed and thighs trembling.
“Aah, Dean…” he hissed out. “Took so long, Dean…”
Dean was past the point of caring why Castiel was there. He reached down and palmed at his own erection, biting his lip as he watched Castiel work himself up. The man on his bed looked over, smiling, and practically purred as he said “Dean, over here. Deaaaan…” his back arched as he cupped his own balls while he said this, and his pupils became even wider with lust. “Please Dean.”
Dean couldn’t resist. He climbed onto the bed and straddled Castiel, who reached up, grabbed the back of his neck, and pulled him down for a searing kiss. Tongues tangled as Dean’s knees gave out, and he was once more pressed against every inch of Castiel’s front, rutting helplessly as the smooth fabric slid up and down the other man’s thick cock. When Castiel traced the seam of Dean’s lips with his tongue, Dean let out a low whimper, and his hands sank into the thick dark mess of hair atop Castiel’s head, tugging at the strands. Castiel broke the kiss with a cry, throwing back his head and exposing his throat – which Dean latched onto immediately, nipping, licking and sucking at the pale skin there while Castiel writhed beneath him until there was a satisfyingly red and purple mark there.
“Mine,” he said almost savagely, and Castiel smiled up at him blissfully.
And then he flipped Dean over.
Dean landed on his back with an “oof!” of surprise, and Castiel gave him a predatory grin that made Dean’s mouth water.
“You fucking what?”
Castiel sat on his haunches, nicely wedging his cock against Dean’s with a pressure that was temporarily satisfying. He frowned, trying to find the words to express what he meant.
“I…you…we make sex, yes?” His hands moved through the air as he spoke, gesturing between Dean and himself.
Dean nodded vigorously, hands tightening on Castiel’s waist. “Yes!”
“Um. Well. We…okay?” Dean’s evening was insane enough already; why the hell not?”
And then: oh my god I’m about to get fucked by a Spanish guy in pink satin panties.
“Stay,” Castiel warned, pushing a palm flat against Dean’s chest. Then he vanished again – tearing out the bedroom door. Dean sat up.
“Um. Castiel? Cas?” he called out nervously. There was a faint rustle in the next room.
“Un momento!” came the reply. Dean smiled and settled back, patiently waiting. Within moments, Castiel had reappeared in his bedroom doorway, beaming as he held aloft his prize. “Lubricante!” he proclaimed proudly, and then he launched himself at the bed, pinning Dean down and kissing him once more. “Lubricante for Dean!”
With a sad pout, he looked at where their cocks had softened slightly at the interlude. “No. It needs…firme? Firm?” he looked at Dean for confirmation.
“Hard? Firm?” Dean guessed haphazardly, and Castiel’s face lit up.
“Si! Hard! Must be hard for my Dean! Dean must be hard for me!” he crowed, pecking Dean on the lips, and then set to work. Using his plush mouth, he gave a repeat performance of what Dean had done to his neck, biting at the suntanned skin of Dean’s chest before sucking on it lightly. Beneath his ministrations, Dean squirmed and moaned, unused to this kind of attention being thrust upon him – after so many years of having a quick fumble with faceless women behind bars, his sex life was having a much needed do-over.
“Que debe ser adorado,” Castiel murmured into the freckles dotting his torso. “Usted merece ser adorado, my Dean.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Dean breathed, head rolling from side to side. “But keep talking.”
“Hermoso hombre,” Castiel sighed, and then his mouth found Dean’s nipple. He lavished attention upon it, gently taking it between his teeth and rolling the firm bud as his tongue flicked over it. Dean cried out, almost coming then and there without Castiel even touching his cock, but before he could go over the edge Castiel was moving across to his left nipple, giving it the same care and attention. A sound Dean would never admit to making escaped his mouth, and fistfuls of bedsheets were bunched beneath him as he whimpered.
Castiel looked up at him questioningly. “Cas?” he asked.
Dean groaned. “You, Cas. Me, Dean.”
“Cas…” the man tried it out, tasting the sound. “I like. Like you even more,” he added mischievously, before returning to his task with a single-minded dedication Dean had never experienced. After a good few minutes of palming at Dean’s boxers with one hand, pinning him down with the other, whilst giving Dean hickey upon hickey all the way down his chest and stomach, Castiel had Dean’s cock hard and leaking, soaking the front of his boxers. He pursed his lips. “These,” he decreed, plucking at the grey material. “Go. Not pretty enough.” And so he worked them off Dean, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth from concentration as he manoeuvred Dean’s hips and proceeded to fling the boxers away – out the bedroom door. He licked a swift, firm stripe up Dean’s erect cock, drawing out a heartfelt groan from the man, and gave the tip a good suck with his eager mouth before sitting back up. Castiel then shucked off his own panties, and Dean took in the sight – the panting, dark haired Spanish man astride him, beaming, Dean’s mark upon his neck, toned torso heaving and erection slapping against his stomach as it leaked profusely. He licked his lips, then realised Castiel had spoken again.
“I say, you? You wear?” Castiel asked, holding the panties hopefully.
Dean’s mouth dried. “I…you want….me?” Castiel’s smile dimmed.
“You no want?”
“No! Yes! Si!” Dean nodded enthusiastically. “I wear!”
His heart stuttered at the look on Castiel’s face when he said this – it was as if Christmas had come early. Castiel shuffled backwards on the bed so that he was able to slide the panties onto Dean’s legs, moving them carefully upwards so that they cupped his sac tenderly. Dean sucked in a gasp, eyes fluttering shut, willing himself not to come at the sensation because holy shit not since Rhonda oh god yes please he hadn’t worn women’s underwear in over ten years, and he’d made himself forget just how good it felt. The best part? He could still feel where Castiel had been wearing them, could feel his cock rubbing against exactly where Castiel’s had, and it was making him so horny it almost hurt.
When he opened his eyes, Castiel was staring down at him with unbridled lust. “Dean, please. I fuck you now?” His hands delicately massaged the muscles of Dean’s outer thigh, as if they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Dean caught them with his own, and without fully understanding why, he placed all four hands – his and Castiel’s – right over where his own heart lay.
“Yes. Please.” He whispered. “Si.”
Castiel leaned down, kissing him. This time, it was a gentle, tender kiss, one that reassured Dean and eased the frantic beating of his heart. He felt Castiel’s erection nudge at his own, felt the slip and slide of the satin up and down against him, and he smiled into the kiss, grasping Castiel’s bare ass and pulling his body flush against him. “I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why you are here, but I would dearly love for you to fuck me right now,” he growled against Castiel’s mouth.
Castiel pulled back abruptly, and Dean found himself rolling over and faceplanting into the bedspread, warm hands caressing his back, accompanied by gentle teeth that nibbled into his skin, leaving adoring bite-marks wherever they went. Dean shuddered with want, and then there was a hand, no, a finger, touching him right there, circling the taut muscle of his entrance, and a low voice in his ear. “You have done this, yes?” He shook his head. “No?”
“No,” he confirmed. “I. Um. Tried. Myself? Earlier? But not – not with someone.” He felt – rather than heard – Castiel’s quiet gasp of astonishment, before the Spaniard moved down the bed.
The hesitant voice came again. “You are….how you say…clean? No umm….no sicknesses?”
“No. No sicknesses.” Dean said. He hadn’t even touched anyone since his last check-up months ago, and he was raring to go. The finger that had been kneading the flesh of Dean’s ass to steadily open him was replaced by – Jesus fucking CHRIST that’s his tongue. Castiel lovingly pressed kisses against the firm muscles of Dean’s backside, occasionally sinking his teeth in slightly, and his hands pushed apart Dean’s cheeks so that his entrance was fully exposed, leaving Castiel free to dip his tongue inside past that first ring of muscle. At the sensation, Dean cried out, and tried desperately to thrust backwards onto Castiel’s tongue. Unperturbed, strong arms holding Dean in place, Castiel continued to work Dean open sloppily with his mouth, adding a finger to work alongside his mouth. The single digit pushed in, and Dean relaxed, allowing the intrusion. Castiel smiled against his skin, laying a kiss as he felt Dean resist the temptation to thrash with pleasure.
“Good boy. Good Dean. My Dean.”
Dean whined at the praise. Castiel ensured Dean was ready, before the click of the 'lubricante' bottle cap was heard and he poured a generous amount over the smooth skin of Dean’s ass. When Dean hissed at the cold sensation, Castiel rubbed slow circles into it, warming it up and working it into the opening, easing the way for another finger. He didn’t stop there – adding more than enough lube to be safe and adding a third finger so seamlessly that Dean barely felt it, lying so that his naked body was pressed against Dean’s, skin to skin, and looking slightly upwards from where his head rested over towards where Dean’s was pressed into his pillow.
“You. Beautiful. I keep?” he asked as his fingers moved, adding another.
Dean turned his head slightly so that he was able to see Castiel’s eyes. “Yes. You keep,” he said breathlessly. What the FUCK did I just say?? Keep?? I don’t even know the guy!
This particular train of thought was cut off rather successfully when Castiel crooked his fingers just so, and Dean yelped with unexpected pleasure. His dick, which had admittedly been softening once more at the lack of attention being given to it, hardened once more, straining his underwear beautifully and Dean didn’t know which was better – the feeling of Castiel’s satin pink underwear against his cock or the feeling of Castiel’s clever fingers against his prostate. “Don’t stop,” he sobbed, and thank God Castiel understood. He continued to massage that spot inside of Dean, and Dean humped against the bed in an effort to provide some relief for himself, moaning.
There is a crazy sexy Spanish guy in my apartment fucking me with his fingers.
And I am wearing women’s underwear that belongs to him.
And he is going to fuck me.
In this underwear.
In my ass.
“Cas….” He keened out. “Please, fuck me now.” He wriggled his hips impatiently, and Castiel laughed before extracting his fingers once more.
“Beautiful…” he crooned, and Dean didn’t even object to the word – he even preened slightly, canting his ass upwards, pretty pink material stretching over his loosened hole, which was dripping with excess lube. Castiel pressed the heel of his palm against his erection at the sight. “Dios mío, eres Dean perfecta,” he sighed, and licked his lips at the sight of Dean’s cock, bobbing beneath his elevated stomach and dripping fat drops of pre-come onto the sheets. He slicked himself up, ensuring that he used plenty of lube on himself, before positioning himself at Dean’s waiting puckered hole. Just as he was about to push in, he paused. “Dean?”
“Mmm?” Dean, forehead pushed into the mattress, didn’t move.
“Would you…would like you to turn? Over? I…your face. I like.” Castiel’s words were hesitant, and Dean rolled over so that he was on his back, smiling up at the man he had just met beatifically.
“I like your face too, Cas,” he said softly. And just like that, Castiel was pulling down the panties so that Dean’s hole was fully uncovered, the blunt, slick head of his cock pushing its way in, inch by thick inch. Dean’s eyes flew fully open at the feeling. This is nothing like his fingers…or mine. “More,” he demanded, pushing his hips back so that Castiel sank in further. Castiel acquiesced, and finally, finally he was fully seated inside Dean, balls pressed flush against his ass, lube leaking out and saturating the bedding beneath them. Dean was panting, every movement causing the tip of Castiel’s cock to brush tantalisingly over his prostate, dick twitching within the satin prison it was encased in and leaking until the panties were sodden. The pair of them stared wordlessly at one another, the feeling of being stretched out, being penetrated, of being buried to the hilt, almost too much. “Move?” Dean asked breathlessly.
Castiel nodded. “Yes. I move.” And then he was slowly dragging himself backwards, leaving a hollow feeling inside of Dean where he had been, before slamming back in and nailing Dean’s prostate. Dean almost screamed, legs locking around Castiel’s lower back and drawing him in. The long-suffering underwear finally gave, ripping so that Dean was left with a shredded, lacy garter on each muscular leg, but he didn’t care. His own cock slapped Castiel’s stomach, leaving drops of pre-come in its wake, and Castiel repeated the process once more – he pulled back, back, back, until just the head of his cock was inside of Dean, before sliding back in once more, reducing Dean to an almost incoherent mess on the bed. They carried on, Castiel rhythmically fucking into Dean, letting out wordless cries of encouragement.
“Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas!” Dean sobbed, bowed legs wide open and welcoming Castiel inside with each thrust.
“Dean, love your tight hole,” Castiel grunted, losing himself in the warmth of Dean surrounding him. “My Dean, tell me…you want it filled, yes? Your...your virgen...your virgin hole, yes?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Dean cried out, brought once again to the precipice by Castiel’s filthy mouth, by his accent, by the way he knew just how to unravel Dean, by the sight of Dean’s own legs clad in the pretty tatters of those panties. “Fill it!”
“Tell me, Dean,” Castiel bit out. “Usted quiere que llena, sí? Tell me, tell me how you want your pretty hole to be filled up. Beg!” His hips snapped forward again, and Dean was entirely at his mercy.
“Want it, Cas,” he babbled. “Want your cock in me, want it to fill me up, please…”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes! More!” Castiel shouted, grabbing Dean’s legs and locking them in place as he rocked into him. “Tell me!”
“Please, Cas, want you to fill me up with your cock, make me feel good, make me feel pretty, Cas, please, yes, fuck, so good, Cas, want your come in me, wanna not walk for a week, wanna keep you inside me, want it forever…” Dean was barely aware of what he was saying, his mouth now having a direct line to his dick and what Castiel was doing to it rather than his brain.
“So good, Dean, so pretty for me, we do this again, we keep going, make you my bitch, make you scream,” Castiel snarled, his guttural voice audible above Dean’s sighs and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. “Tell me! Tell me you are mine, my own Dean, my little slut Dean, mine, mine, mine!”
“Yours!” Dean agreed enthusiastically.
“Tell me!” One hand was suddenly gripping the base of Dean’s cock, staving off the orgasm that had fast been building, the other still holding Dean’s leg in place. Dean howled in complaint.
Castiel didn’t stop, still fucking him even as he refused to let Dean come. “Tell me you are my bitch, and I let you come. Si?”
“Si! Yes, yours! I’m your bitch, I’m yours, your slut, please – aaaahhhhh!” Dean’s response finished as a long wail as Castiel let go of him, one thumb brushing the slit right on the head of his dick, and he came everywhere, spunk spurting out and leaving splatters across his chest and Castiel’s. At the sight of Dean, head thrown back and covered in his own come, Castiel let out a choked moan and came deep inside of him, coating his insides with his come, bent over Dean as his thigh muscles gave out and he sagged. The pair of them stayed like that for a minute, gasping, before the sensation of Castiel’s softening cock inside of Dean made him shift uncomfortably. “Ehh…Cas…”
“Si, sorry.” Castiel gently pulled out, and gasped at how beautiful Dean was as he lay there. A mix of come and lube dribbled out of his tender hole, joining the mess on the drenched sheets that Dean lay in, utterly debauched with a glazed smile on his face. Castiel’s heart twisted at the sight, and he ducked down so that he was flat against Dean, returning his smile before giving him a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues massaging one another lovingly. “My Dean.”
“Your Dean.” Dean replied drowsily, riding out his post-orgasmic bliss happily.
“I clean? You? I clean you?” Castiel was loathe to leave the beautiful green eyed man, even for a second, but he got up anyway and discovered Dean’s bathroom. Muttering to himself in Spanish, he found the washcloth and dampened it, returning to the bedroom with a fond smile on his face. Dean was still sprawled out and apparently incapable of movement. “Dean?”
“Cas…” Dean’s hands floundered. “Here.”
“I clean. Then you sleep. Yes?”
Dean was barely aware of the feather-light brushes of the washcloth to his upper body as he smiled dreamily.
Best sex I’ve ever had.
“Dean? Sleep now? I find good bed for you?” Castiel hovered beside him anxiously. “Bed is..ahh…not so good. Sleep for you elsewhere?” Dean looked down. The bed was a mess – stains everywhere, sheets messed up.
He pushed himself up and made to get off the bed, wincing. “Ow.”
“I help!” Castiel took Dean’s arm gingerly and helped Dean stand despite the throbbing ache in between his legs. “I help?” he repeated, far more shyly, as if unsure of what to do.
Dean smiled at him. “Yeah, you help.”
Castiel’s plump lips brushed his cheek. “Good. I help.” He supported Dean as they walked into the lounge, letting Dean lie down on the – thankfully not leather – couch gently before hurrying off to find a blanket. “I help!” He re-emerged from Dean’s room triumphantly, and covered the beautiful man with the soft woollen blanket. “…I help,” he finished sadly, going to pick up his clothing and dress himself.
Dean sat up, ignoring the pain as he eyed Castiel worriedly. “Cas? Where you goin’?”
Castiel stopped as he went to pull on his trousers, hunching over himself sadly. “I. I leave now?”
“What? No! Stay!” Dean protested. He threw the blanket aside as he shifted over on the couch, making room for Castiel. “Sleep here.”
Castiel smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. “I will stay. I will sleep here.” He cast off his pants once more so that he was as naked as Dean, crossing the room and curling up into Dean’s body on the couch. Dean arranged the blanket so that it was tucked around the both of them, and Castiel held him close. “My Dean. I like this. I like you,” he admitted almost bashfully, and Dean – utterly confused, but happy nonetheless – smiled at him.
“I like you too, Cas,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’re gonna make breakfast, yeah?”
Castiel’s brow furrowed, and Dean searched his mind for a vague hint of high school Spanish. “Um. Desa….desayuno? Breakfast?”
“Si! Breakfast!” Castiel kissed his nose. “I make good bre…breakfast. Yes.” They drifted off to sleep, limbs tangled, worn out from the night’s activities.
Gabriel and Sam climbed the stairs of the apartment complex, laughing.
“I bet he squealed,” Gabriel snorted.
Sam laughed, imagining his brother’s horrified expression. “Dean has never squealed. Ever. Let’s just hope this pie is a good enough apology.”
They reached the door, and Gabriel thumped on it forcefully. “Winchester! It is the morning of your birth, and we bring you an apology and a pie as a gesture of devotion!” he hollered. There was a thump from behind the door, and it opened a fraction to reveal one bleary eye.
“Let us in, Losechester, we’re sorry, etc, won’t hire another one, have some pie,” Gabriel said, shoving the door open and marching inside before freezing. “Dude.”
Sam, who had been following close behind with a shit-eating grin on his face, was staring at his older brother’s hickey-covered chest. “Dean?” Dean was bright red. The sound of a deep, guttural voice singing in Spanish floated out the kitchen, and the two men peered inside to see a dark-haired man pattering around in there, wearing a pair of low-slung jeans and nothing else as he flipped bacon. Their heads whipped around to stare at Dean once more.
“Dude. You…you actually…you fucked?”
“How the fuck did you know?” Dean, thank god, was also wearing pants, and he stared at them in confusion. “Wait a second….”
Castiel emerged from the kitchen at that exact point, smile faltering when he saw Sam and Gabriel. “Dean?”
Dean’s face was utterly betrayed. “This was all a fucking joke? They put you up to this?”
The Spaniard’s head tilted. “I do not understand?”
“Them! They-” he pointed at Gabriel and Sam, who were aghast “-hired you to make a fucking joke outta me?”
“I…” Castiel looked at his plate with a forlorn expression. “You did not hire me? They hired me? You do not want me?” His big blue eyes became rather wet-looking. “I thought you…”
Dean glared at Sam. “What the fuck did you do.”
His younger brother raised his hands. “It was Gabe’s idea!”
At this, Gabriel began to back away. “Okay! Maybe I hired a male prostitute to come to your place as a joke. Maybe I requested one that didn’t speak much English. Maybe I requested one that was kinda…dominating. I didn’t actually expect you to…you know! I thought you were gonna just freak out and make him leave! Not fuck him and let him stay over!”
Dean was about to punch his friend in the face when a quiet, subdued voice from behind them said, “I leave now.” He turned to see Castiel stood by the door awkwardly, now dressed in his own clothes. Castiel took a deep breath. “I do not…I do not want payment. For this. Not for Dean. Dean is enough. I like Dean. I find other payment for money needs. I am…I am leaving now. Goodbye my Dean.” He shut the door behind him, and Dean felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. With a sledgehammer.
He turned to Gabriel. “Stay. Here.” He snarled, before rushing out the front door, leaving Sam and Gabriel to stare at each other in astonishment.
“Cas! Cas, wait!” Dean caught Castiel’s arm. “Cas, why are you going?”
“I…you do not want me. It was a joke. On you and me. So I am going.” Castiel looked like he was about to cry, and Dean’s heart cracked.
“I want you. Like, not just…sex. You stay? Here? With me?” Dean’s looked at him hopefully with enormous shining green eyes, and Castiel nodded slowly.
“You want me to stay?”
“Yes, you idiot, I want you to stay! I mean, if you want. I know we don’t really know each other – well, we don’t know each other at all – but I want to know you. If that’s okay?” By the end of his speech, Dean was rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, still smiling timidly.
Castiel practically leapt into his arms. “I stay!”
They burst through the door of Dean’s apartment, lips locked together and arms wrapped around one another tightly. Sam and Gabriel managed to hurry out of the way as the pair crashed onto the couch, still kissing frantically and grabbing at each other with hungry hands. “Cas…yes, please! My Cas…”
“Mmm…my Dean, mine, te amo, my Dean…”
They resurfaced when the apartment door slammed shut with Gabriel and Sam’s hasty exit, and they blinked at one another. Dean snorted, causing Castiel to frown slightly. “You are not angry?”
“Nah, we’ll just let them think we are.”
“I like your ideas.” Castiel smiled sunnily up at him, and Dean was unable to resist stealing another kiss.
“Damn right you do. So, how about finally having some breakfast?”
Three months passed. Castiel, as it turned out, was a legal Spanish immigrant, orphaned and alone, who had run into money trouble, and was working for a man named Crowley who, it seemed, liked to rip off both his customers and his workers by overcharging and then keeping most of the money for himself. He was able to quit his job when Dean practically forced him to move in with him, and found a quiet job at the local library, running an evening Spanish class every Wednesday and reading to children most weekdays. His more…private Spanish/English lessons were Dean-only, however.
Dean was pretty sure he’d been in love with the guy since he first saw him.
Dean let Sam and Gabriel worry for another week before he was able to exact revenge – superglue in Sam’s hairbrush, and he hired a gospel choir to follow Gabriel around for an entire week. The look on Gabriel’s face was priceless.
For his part, Dean had never been happier. He came home every day from the office to find Castiel in the kitchen, muttering or singing to himself in Spanish as he cooked, greeting Dean with a brilliant smile and a deep kiss that left them both breathless. When they fought, it wasn’t too long before they made up once more, and the sheets were often left in the same state they had been their first night together.
And every night, just as they fell asleep, Castiel would cover Dean’s face with gentle kisses, whispering, “te amo, my Dean, mine, my Dean.”
To which Dean would respond, “I love you too, Cas. You’re mine. We’re family.”