Archive of Our Own

Dean’s fingers traced the mouse pad of his laptop, the string from his hoodie dangled from his mouth as he chewed on it absently. His room was quiet and dark, as it always was in the bunker, but the heavy weight in his eyes was enough to tell him it was getting late.

He should be getting to sleep, but he couldn’t—not until he found what he was looking for.

Dean wasn’t a complete stranger to online shopping, but tonight was different. Tonight called for something specific, something that was much more personal than what he was used to purchasing. In fact, it was almost too embarrassing to buy it, even from the comfort and privacy of his own room.

But this was an emergency, so he figured that was reason enough to step outside his comfort zone.

Which was why he was currently lying on his bed, scrolling through a selection of customizable panties and thongs on an adult lingerie store on the same laptop he and Sam used for research.

Dean made a mental note to clear the history in the morning.

When it came to buying and wearing regular old panties, Dean was plenty familiar—courtesy of one Ms. Rhonda Hurley, who had introduced him to the idea during his first encounter with her. It was something that he’d continued to do for himself, since it helped him let loose and feel confident. And then, when he began his relationship with Cas, he was equal parts surprised and thrilled to find out just how much Cas was into it too.

Although Dean didn’t wear them all the time—since he usually liked to save them for special occasions—when he did wear them, Cas became absolutely ravenous around him. Some of Dean’s favorite memories stored away in his spank bank almost always started with him wearing a nice, lacy pair of panties.

Not that he really needed a spank bank, Castiel rarely, if ever left him feeling unsatisfied enough to use it.

But as much as Dean would love to say he was buying a new pair of panties so that he could get himself pounded into the mattress by his boyfriend—partner?—Dean still wasn’t really sure how to classify them yet—that wasn’t why he was browsing Enchantasys.com on a random Tuesday night—a time when he should be snuggled up under the covers next to his angel.

No, he was doing it because Cas was refusing to talk to him.

Well, that might be a dramatic way of putting it. It was more of a mutual silent treatment. But still, they were having their first real fight as a couple and Dean wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

When Dean and Cas had finally pulled their heads out of their asses long enough to admit their feelings for one another, Dean had been nervous and excited to start a real relationship with him. Maybe it was luck, but for the past six months since they had gotten together, things had actually been going great.

They rarely fought, and although they still bickered here and there, it was more playful than anything else. In fact, Dean had just started to believe that this would be their new normal—a semi-healthy, quiet relationship that actually worked.

But then, because he was Dean Winchester, of course he had to go and fuck it all up.

Dean loved Cas, no doubt about it. He might’ve been afraid to admit it at first, but now, there wasn’t a hint of fear or uncertainty in his mind about that fact.

Of course, getting to the point where he could say it out loud took time, patience, and a shit ton of mental wrestling with his internalized homophobia. But, when he was finally able to come to terms with it and embrace himself, they both realized that it was well worth the wait.

Once he made peace with himself, telling Sam had been the last real hurdle. And after that conversation—awkward as it was—Dean felt a weight lift.

He quickly realized that he didn’t care what the fuck other people thought of him. He was proud to be with Cas, and he wasn’t about to hide it. He loved the little things—holding hands in public, sliding into a booth next to him instead of across, pulling him in for a kiss when they parted ways. It was freeing in a way he hadn’t expected.

But, no matter how much he’d changed, some habits stuck like muscle memory—flirting, for example.

Flirting had always been second nature to Dean—quick smile, easy charm, smooth line. It was never serious, just something he did without thinking. Over time, that casual flirtation had become a part of his personality, something he pulled out with everyone—if he was honest with himself—though mostly with women.

But since being with Cas, it wasn’t something he needed anymore, especially since all his flirtations were directed at Cas anyway. Hell, he hadn’t even thought about using them on someone else. At least—

Not until last week.

Cas and Dean had been on a hunt where a string of disappearances in a small town had left behind a trail of bodies, each with strange markings on their skin. When they arrived, the local law enforcement informed them that all they had were the bodies and a reluctant witness who refused to say much about what she saw—only admitting that she had found two out of three of the victim’s bodies. One, in an alley a block from where she worked, and the other, in a nearby park—too suspicious of a coincidence. 

It sounded like a simple enough lead to follow up on, so they went to the bar where the witness worked to try and get some information.

At first, they were planning on going together—do the whole FBI partner thing—but then Dean realized that if she wasn’t willing to talk to the police, it would probably be futile to show up as the FBI. Instead, he told Cas that he should handle it by himself, pretend to be a passerby who was in town for a few days, and maybe she might open up as bartenders typically do.

Cas hadn’t been too happy at the suggestion.

“You don’t think I’m capable of handling a suspect?”  Was the first thing out of his mouth when Dean explained his plan. He tried reassuring Cas that he just had a lot of experience with chatting up bartenders, and that Cas should still come as backup.

Cas eventually agreed to the idea, and they headed over first thing.

When they walked in, Cas took a seat at the bar, striking up polite conversation with the guy two stools down, while Dean zeroed in on the suspect-slash-witness. She was exactly how the police chief had described her—dark hair, confident smile, the kind of presence that could hold a room. She clocked him the second he walked up to her end of the bar, but he played it cool, ordering a drink and making small talk.

As they chatted in between her making drink orders, Dean realized that playing the mysterious and rough stranger wasn’t relatable enough to make her spill the beans. All of her answers were guarded, her demeanor cool, and every question about her connection to the case got easily batted away.

Finally, Dean figured that she wasn’t going to open up without some coaxing. Afterall, women like her needed to make sure men like him were worth their while.

So, he switched gears, turning on the charm.

When it finally started to slow down in the bar, Dean made his move. He leaned in closer, letting his voice drop just enough to sound inviting. A smile here, a joke there, even a casual brush of his hand against hers when she reached for his glass. It worked, too—she started to relax, her walls coming down just enough for him to steer the conversation back to where he needed it.

“Bet you got a lot of good stories from working here?” He smirked while casually swirling his glass of whiskey. “Or, y’know, just in general.”

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the bar top. “Hmm, just can’t let it go, can you?”

He let out a short laugh, looking away before glancing back at her, eyes lidded. “What can I say? I like dangerous women.” He flashed her a devilish smile.

She rolled her eyes playfully before sighing. “Honestly, it really was just luck that I stumbled on those dead bodies. And I just know that the police aren’t gonna believe me if I say that.” Her eyes were trained intensely on her own clasped hands. “It scares me though…” she looked back up at Dean, an unmistakable truthfulness in her expression. “What if someone made it so I would be the one to find them?”

Dean felt sympathy tug at his heart. He reached forward, putting a hand over hers. “I’m sure it was just a coincidence.”

She reacted by taking hold of Dean’s hands, her frown instantly turning into a comforted grin, before she added, “there was also some weird shit I noticed, like really weird. That’s another reason I didn’t want to talk to the cops, there’s no chance in hell they’d believe me.”

That, of course, piqued Dean’s interest. “You wanna tell me?”

“I don’t think you’d believe me either.”

“Try me.”

She looked almost convinced, but there were still a few walls that needed to be broken down. “Maybe I will…” She leaned in even more, pressing her chest into her arms on the bar. “If, after I do, we can take this conversation somewhere else?”

Dean gulped and suddenly he was all too aware of the sweat collecting on his palms and also probably beading on his forehead. This was getting a little too real for comfort, and it wasn’t until he came to a last second decision to play along, that he realized how this probably looked for Cas from the other side of the room.

“Sure thing, doll.” He murmured in a sultry tone, trying to ignore the stare he was surely getting from Cas—no doubt a product of his angel hearing. “Just, not tonight, I got something to take care of later.”

She seemed both disappointed and put off by his response, so Dean quickly amended, “just give me your number and I’ll give you a call tomorrow, yeah?”

She eyed him suspiciously, but eventually agreed. “Alright, then.”

After she told him her number—and after he pretended to put it in his phone—she gave him the rundown on some of the weird sights and smells she experienced at the crime scenes.

Dean nodded thoughtfully at the information, which seemed to baffle her. “You don’t even seem surprised?”

Oh, right, Dean thought before shrugging off her suspicion. “This stuff just…interests me, I guess.”

“Well, you can have your freaky supernatural crap, I like to live in the normal world.”

He laughed, “fair enough.”

At this point, Cas’s intense stare wasn’t even subtle. Dean knew he needed to wrap it up, so, after they shared a few more intimate glances, he finally got ready to say goodbye.

“I should probably head out.” He pushed his empty glass towards her, putting on his best, apologetic smile.

To his shock, the woman reached over the counter and landed a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’m holdin’ you to that call, y’know.”

Dean swallowed down the guilt—not only from lying to her, but also from doing it all in front of the love of his life. “Yes, Ma’am,” he finally croaked, only saving himself with a charming wink.

When Dean and Cas made it out to the car, Dean shared all the information he’d managed to gather, but Cas barely acknowledged him. Dean didn’t even need to ask if Cas had overheard the conversation—it was clear he had. Cas stayed silent the entire drive, only speaking once they were back in the parking lot of their motel.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Dean blurted out after putting the car in park. He knew it was a cheap apology, a defense that was coated in guilt, but he couldn't help himself. “I just…I needed to get the info off of her. S’not like it was anything serious.”

“To you.” Cas’s jaw was set like granite, a callous edge to his voice that had Dean’s heart sinking. “There are other ways.”

Dean scoffed, pride setting in. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything that didn’t involve suggesting having sexual intercourse with someone else right in front of me would’ve been nice.”

Dean bit his lip. Cas was right, Dean had taken the easy route. Sure, it may have gotten results, but it was still insensitive.

Just as he opened his mouth—an apology on the tip of his tongue—Cas whispered, “would you have left with her?”

His defenses shot straight back up. “Are you seriously asking if I would cheat on you?”

“I don’t know, Dean. You’re making it sound like getting the information was what mattered most to you.”

Realistically, Dean knew that Cas was probably just being petty because he was hurt—rightfully so. But the inference that Dean would ever sleep with someone just to get some information, or even worse, do it while he was with Cas, had his blood quickly heating.

“Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Cas’s face hardened even more. “If we weren’t together. Would you have?”

Dean paused, thinking over the question. It’s not like it would’ve been the first time he did something like that. So honestly, he wouldn’t put it past himself.

Before he could even respond, Cas had already read the silence, and the look on his face. It was obvious that he came to a conclusion on his own, when he looked out the window, head shaking.

“Okay, fine, maybe. But why does it matter?”

Cas’s eyes snapped back. “It matters because you deliberately flirted with someone that you found attractive, ulterior motives or not. It matters because I was right there, and you didn’t even think twice about it. It matters because, for the longest time, I watched you do that same thing over and over, wishing that, maybe, one day, it would be me that—”

Cas’s voice cracked. He turned away again—this time, Dean suspected, to hide the moisture gathering in his eyes.

Dean knew that Cas loved him. And he knew that, apparently, Cas had harboured those feelings for a while. But hearing that Cas had been watching him for a ‘long time,’ wishing that Dean would give him the same attention that he gave random girls on the road—let’s just say it had a pit forming in Dean’s stomach.

None. None of those women held even a modicum of space in Dean’s heart. He would go back and be celibate for his entire life if it meant getting to have Cas for just one freaking day.

He just wished he could explain that to Cas in a way that would make him believe.

“I’m sorry,” was all he was able to say.

Cas kept his gaze firmly fixed out the window, refusing to respond. Dean let out an exhale, guilt continuing to ebb away at him.

It was late. They were tired, physically and emotionally, and he knew he would have a better chance of talking it out properly with him in the morning. So, instead of trying to push further, he simply popped open his door and looked over at Cas. “Are you coming?”

Cas’s mouth clicked when he opened it. “I don't need to sleep.”

Dean knew that. And Cas knew that Dean knew that. But what he was really saying was that he didn’t want to sleep with Dean.

Something hot and sharp stung in his chest. He couldn’t even remember the last time they slept apart.

Dean cleared his throat and whispered, “okay,” before getting out and shutting the door behind himself.

And now, here he was, scrolling through a lingerie website like a desperate idiot, trying to figure out how to make things right.

He knew his tactics were crass. Sex shouldn’t be the way to resolve a fight, and trying to entice Cas to fuck him when he would barely even look at him was also a less than good idea. But, maybe this was all he had left. He couldn’t talk to Cas if the guy didn’t even want to be in the same room with him. At least this might get his attention.

Plus, Dean had never been good with words anyway. Still wasn’t. The one thing he could do, was show Cas, somehow, that the only person Dean cared about in that way was him. Hence, why he was scouring the internet for a very specific item that could help him do that.

Dean saw it in an ad one time on some social media platform—a lacy thong that had customizable letters bedazzled on the back, supposedly where one could put their partner’s name. He honestly cringed when he’d first seen it, but that was probably because he couldn’t think of anyone he’d want to wear them for.

Now though, the idea of having panties that could peak through between his jeans and t-shirt, showcasing Castiel’s name? The idea already had Dean chubbing up a bit.

He also knew damn well that Cas, the most possessive bastard he’d ever met, would go feral for something like that.

As he scrolled, his eyes finally caught a style that he liked, so he clicked the link to pick out a color. He sifted through the choices, eventually deciding on black, which was the original color—not his go-to, but certainly bold enough for something like this.

He smiled to himself as he typed Cas’s name in the ‘customizable name’ box. This was starting to look more and more like a good idea.

Surely this would put him back on Cas’s good side. And if not? Well there would always be plenty of time to talk after they had mind-blowing make up sex, right?

—

With the express shipping that Dean had paid for, it took only two days for the panties to arrive. Thankfully, due to his paranoid hourly checks of their mailbox, Dean was able to snatch the package before Sam could get his grimey little hands on it. What a conversation that would be.

He wasted no time going straight to his room, shutting the door, and ripping the package open. Once he got the pair of panties out of the plastic bag and dropped it into his hands, he gasped softly. The material was high-quality. The lace edges weren’t rough, but silky and elegant. It looked just the right size, and sure to hug his hips in the most delicious way.

Of course, the best part was the name. His fingers grazed over the shiny little rhinestones stitched into the back of the thong. They were much bigger than he thought they would be—which was good, there was no chance Cas could miss them.

Quickly, Dean shucked off his jeans and boxers, stepping into the panties slowly and delicately. Goosebumps rose on his skin as he trailed them upwards, the lace rubbing against his leg hair. It was one of the best sensations—only second to the feeling of it finally reaching his cock. With a little tucking and maneuvering, Dean managed to fit his dick all the way in the panties. The thong strap fit between his cheeks perfectly, not too tight, but just enough that it framed him just the way he wanted it to.

He stepped up to the full length mirror that he bought for his room a while back. The first thing he noticed was how good his fucking cock looked straining against the satiny fabric. If he was being honest, the front might not be the best fit for him, but honestly, it just made the sight all the more hot.

He stroked himself carelessly, admiring the lace riding up on his hips, until finally, he turned. As soon as the back came into view, he let out a sharp exhale. If he thought the panties looked hot on their own, seeing them on himself was a completely different ballgame.

“C A S T I E L”  was placed perfectly on the line in his lower back. It looked so incredibly hot—yet, somehow, still classy. He could also tell that the letters were the perfect height so that they could be seen peeking above his jeans if he lifted his arms or squatted. 

This was the perfect purchase, Dean decided.

He smirked to himself before slipping back into his clothes. He turned around just to double-check that the top of the panties showed with the right movements, and sure enough, they did. Satisfied, he grabbed his flannel and headed out, ready to show Cas exactly who he belonged to.

—

There wasn’t much going on today.

It was a saturday, which Cas had recently deemed their grocery-shopping day. Dean thought it was a stupid idea at first—he’d always just done random trips to the nearest shitty store whenever they needed more meat or a 6-pack. But, nevertheless, Cas had insisted that they needed to start eating better and that seemed to be the end of the matter.

They, of course, meant Dean. Sam had already been getting his own groceries for a while, and was thrilled when Cas mentioned the idea. Sometimes it was all three of them making the trip—four if Jack asked to come—but recently it had just been him and Cas. They’ve been taking the chance to make a little date out of it, and in order to not feel like a third wheel, Sam had just handed them his list and let them do their own thing.

Dean hated to admit that he really looked forward to these days. If he was being honest, he was more excited to do the normal, mundane, coupley things with Cas, than trying to plan over-the-top romantic dates with him. Not that he didn’t enjoy those too, but there was something so comforting and domestic about their grocery trips.

Unfortunately, Cas hadn’t given him any notion that he wanted Dean to go with him today. Not that that was gonna stop him from trying to tag along. How else would he show off his new surprise?

—

“Hey, Sam. D’you know where Cas is?”

Sam looked up from the book he was currently buried in—something about a guide to herbal magic. “Um, no?”

“He hasn’t left for the store yet, right?”

Setting the book down beside his coffee, Sam rolled his eyes and huffed a long sigh. “I don’t know, but please tell me you guys have finally made up.”

Dean shifted his feet, stepping out of the kitchen for a moment to look back into the hall. “What makes you think we’re fighting?”

“Are you serious? Like it’s not the most obvious thing in the world. I can’t even bring you up around Cas without him getting all agitated.”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Okay, so we got a little…thing…going on right now.”

“It doesn’t seem so little to me—”

“Whatever, do you know where he is or not?”

“I already said no, but if I had to guess, maybe in the library with Jack—”

Dean was already out of the door before Sam could finish his sentence.

He made his way to the library, the sound of soft voices let him know that Sam was probably right. Once the shelves came into view, he could see Cas and Jack looking over a book laid out on the table.

“Can we make this one?” Jack asked excitedly.

Cas chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. “There are several ingredients in here that we don’t have. Maybe try picking one that does.”

Jack seemed unaffected by the rejection, happily flipping through the pages of, what Dean assumed to be, a cookbook.

His footsteps alerted them, and as soon as Cas looked up, eyes locking with Dean, he quickly looked away, focusing his attention back on the book.

Jack just smiled even brighter at the sight of Dean approaching, “Hi, Dean! We’re picking out some recipes to make this week.”

Dean returned the smile. “That’s great, kid. Whatcha found so far?”

“Oh, we’ve picked out tons. Lemon parmesan chicken, beef stroganoff, blueberry crumble—”

“Damn, sounds delicious,” he acknowledged with a smile, before turning his attention to Cas, who was still ignoring his existence. “Are you going to the store today?”

Whether or not Cas would’ve answered remained a mystery since Jack quickly responded with a cheerful, “yes, we are!”

Cas kept his eyes locked on the book—if he kept staring at it like that, it was bound to end up with two holes burned straight through it.

Dean tried to think of what to do. He could just suggest to go with them, but at the same time, he definitely didn’t want to risk the kid seeing what he was planning on teasing Cas with.

“Hey, uh, Jack?”

Jack looked up from the book. “Yeah?”

“I understand if you still wanna go to the store, but um, Sam just said he was ready for you to practice braiding his hair again. I know how much you like doin’ that, so I didn’t want you to miss the opportunity, you know?”

Dean almost snickered when he saw the way Cas’s eyes closed in annoyance, seeing straight through Dean’s lie.

“Really?” Jack closed the book instantly. “Dad, you don’t mind if I stay, right? We can still make the recipes together when you get back?”

Cas threw a nasty look at Dean before turning to look at Jack, a smile clearly pasted on for his sake. “Of course, Jack. That’s fine.”

“Awesome, thanks!” Jack took off towards the kitchen, and Dean couldn’t hold back his amused expression at the sight. Yeah, Sam’s gonna kill him.

Once Jack was gone, Dean sauntered over to Cas who was returning the book to the shelf directly behind them. Dean sat back on the table, arms crossed and mouth ticked up in a teasing smile. “You tryna replace me?”

 Cas’s shoulders tensed, but to Dean’s surprise, he did eventually turn around to face him. “No.”

“Right, so you definitely didn’t ask Jack to go so that it wouldn't just be me and you, right?”

“I already assumed you wouldn’t want to go, and I’ve been meaning to do the recipe thing with him for a while—”

—Dean felt a warmth in his heart. He loved watching Cas be a good dad to Jack—

“—But obviously, that’s not happening anymore.”

Dean cleared his throat, a mix of embarrassment and guilt no doubt written on his face. “I’m sorry. I-I can go get him—”

“Just…” Cas let out an exasperated sigh, “what do you want, Dean?”

“I want to go with you,” his shoulders raised, eyebrows pinched in a pleading manner, “like we usually do.”

The admittance made Cas’s eyes soften just slightly. “I’ll be in the garage in 15 minutes, but I’m not waiting any later than that.”

Dean jumped to his feet excitedly. “Got it.”

—

The ride to The Fresh Market was a short one since they were only about seven minutes away. As Dean suspected, the majority of the time was spent in silence, neither of the men trying to start any sort of conversation. Which was fine with Dean, he knew there would be plenty of talking once Cas got a load of what Dean was hiding under his jeans—no pun intended.

Anticipation growing by the second, Dean parked Baby in the first available spot he could find. Cas shot him a confused look, likely because Dean usually parked farther away to avoid the risk of other cars scratching her. But not today—today, he was in a hurry, and moving quickly was his priority.

It wasn’t surprising, only slightly disappointing, when Cas didn’t reach for his hand as they walked in together. Ever since he’d gotten over the fear of being out, loud, and proud about his relationship with Cas, little gestures such as that meant the world to him. However, even though they weren’t holding hands, Cas did allow him to walk close enough so that their shoulders brushed, which was more than what Dean was expecting.

Their list, which Cas insisted on writing out like a receipt, was much longer today than usual. And typically Dean would complain about something like that, but knowing now that he’d be able to tease Cas for—probably—over an hour, made him keep his mouth firmly shut.

“Can I—” Dean started to ask while reaching for a cart.

“I got it.”

Dean asking to push the cart and continuously being told no had become a bit of a ritual between them. Though, Cas usually added playful quips to his response—obviously that wasn’t the case today.

Dean put his hands up. “Okay Mr. Control Freak…” he muttered under his breath.

Cas gave him a quick, disapproving glance, before shrugging his trenchcoat off and placing it in the front section of the cart.

Today, instead of his usual suit and tie, Cas was wearing a green, tight-fit sweater. Dean knew from him wearing it before, that it was incredibly soft material—one of his favorites to snuggle up to. It made him ache to touch Cas somewhere, anywhere. But he knew that would only push him further away from Cas’s good graces, and so he kept his hands to himself, shoving them in his pockets as they began their trek around the store.

They always started at the back of the store—near the dairy products—and worked their way to the front. Similar to his driving style, Cas pushed the cart painstakingly slow for Dean’s taste, and sometimes he would tease him about it, but he was not about to poke the bear anymore than he had to.

Cas stopped once they got to the aisle. “Okay, Sam needs…almond milk and coffee creamer. And Jack needs whole milk.” Cas read from the list, pointing towards the refrigerated section.

Dean took that as his cue to grab at least one of the items on the list. He moved past Cas, grabbing the almond milk—Sam has such despicable taste. As he reached up for the carton, Dean could feel the faint tug of the waistband of his panties, and a small breeze of air from where his shirt was slightly lifted, hit the small of his back. He smirked to himself, sneaking a look at Cas to see if he was paying attention.

Unfortunately, if the top of the underwear had peeked through, Cas didn’t seem to notice. But that was fine, Dean had plenty more chances.

A few minutes—and a cart full of cheese, eggs, and greek yogurt—later, they moved on, passing the bread section. Cas stood back from the shelf, eyes scanning over the selections.

Bored, Dean tried leaning on the end of the cart before it was swiftly pulled out from under him by Cas, who didn't even spare him a glance. He crossed his arms grumpily, and with no small amount of impatience, asked, “what’s taking so long? What does the list say?”

Cas gave him a squinted side glance. “I can’t seem to find the special bread Sam asked for.”

Dean stepped closer to take a look at the list, trying to ignore the way Cas slightly flinched at his movement.

“Ezekiel bread? What the hell is that?”

“I’m not sure.”

Dean pulled his phone out, doing a quick search and finding that that brand of bread was typically in the frozen section.

“Why would it be frozen?” Cas scrunched his nose.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Cas sighed, folding the list and putting it back in the pockets of his khaki pants. “I suppose we need to go back to the frozen section then.”

After backtracking a few aisles, they finally found the section they were looking for.

And…still no Ezekiel bread.

Cas scratched his head. “Sam said this store should have everything he asked for?”

Dean grunted. Determined to find what they were looking for, he knelt down in front of the shelves, finger tapping his chin. Eventually, he managed to spot the bright orange bag of bread—it really shouldn't have been that hard to find—at the very bottom and rose to pull open the door and retrieve it.

He turned back to the cart, tossing the ice block of bread into it. “Alright, we got Sam’s biblical bread—or whatever the hell it’s called—what’s next?”

When Dean looked at Cas for an answer, all he was met with was a look of complete shock. Cas was frozen, as still as the frozen food around them, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“What?” Dean prompted, eyebrows furrowing as he tilted his head. It was only when he noticed the blush creeping up Cas’s cheeks, blooming like wildfire, that it dawned on Dean.

The panties.

The whole reason he’d come on this trip in the first place was now written all over Cas’s face. And God, Cas’s face—the rigid set of his jaw when he clenched his teeth to keep from saying something, the way his eyes flickered down to Dean’s hips and back up again like they were magnetized, the slight tremble of his fingers where they gripped the edge of the cart.

Dean was eating all of it up.

Dean’s mouth twitched. He could feel the smugness rising in his chest, his mind already supplying a dozen teasing remarks, but before he could decide on the perfect one, a soft cough diverted their attention.

Another couple had come up behind Cas, the sound seeming to startle him out of his stupor. He blinked rapidly, his expression shifting from shock to embarrassment as he scrambled to move out of their way. His attempts to drag the cart with him were almost comically ineffective, his usual stoicism faltering as his blush deepened.

Dean graciously stepped in, grabbing the cart handle to help, and muttering an apology to the confused and slightly annoyed older couple as they walked past.

Cas swallowed hard once they were out of earshot, his shoulders still stiff with tension. He leaned in close to Dean. “What—what are you wearing?” His voice was low and strained, like he was fighting to keep it steady.

Dean fought the smirk pulling at his lips, turning it into something more casual. “What’re you talking about?” His tone was deliberately light and innocent, but the sharp gleam in his eyes most likely gave him away.

Cas’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting down again briefly—it was like he physically couldn’t stop himself. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a single word out, Dean cut him off.

Snatching the cart handle, Dean strode off toward the next aisle, leaving Cas standing there, still stunned. “Y’know, you should really pay more attention to your surroundings,” Dean called over his shoulder, the teasing tone in his voice unmistakable.

Behind him, Cas exhaled through his nose, his footsteps hurried as he followed. Dean didn’t need to turn around to know Cas was staring daggers into the back of his head—or ass.

But that was the whole point, so he gave him a pass.

He’d barely made it to the next aisle when Cas caught up. Dean slowed his pace, but kept a firm grip on the handle. He was sure he was going to steal the cart back, but instead, Cas just lingered awkwardly, looking around to make sure they were alone before leaning in again and whispering, almost shyly.

“Did…” he licked his lips—those beautiful, plush, chapped lips. His gaze flickered back and forth, scanning the aisle, almost as if what he was about to say was some sacred, precious thing that had to be kept between them and them only. “Did I just see…my name?”

The question, though asked with a soft hesitancy, carried an edge of authority to it—like he wasn’t really asking for an answer, but demanding it.

Dean came to a full stop, unable to hide his smirk this time. Realizing that feigning innocence was no longer an option, he took a step forward, leaning in so close that Cas instinctively moved back an inch out of surprise.

It was obvious what Cas thought was coming next, judging by the way his eyes zeroed in on Dean’s lips. But unfortunately for him, Dean was not going to give in that easily—after all, he still had a whole afternoon of torture to conduct, he couldn’t waste it all in one go.

And so, with his eyes seductively locked on Cas’s ever-darkening blue ones, he slowly and methodically slipped his hand into Cas’s khaki pocket.

Once inside, his knuckles grazed the growing bulge that he could feel in Cas’s crotch. His mouth instantly began salivating at the feeling, brain short circuiting.

The dude really got hard from one look? It was just too damn easy.

As tempting as it was to tease Cas in a more physical way, that wasn’t his goal quite yet. And so, biting back the urge to escalate, and reluctantly ignoring Cas’s erection, he grabbed the now-crumpled list and pulled it out of his pocket.

Cas stared at the paper in Dean’s hands like it had personally betrayed him, disappointment and confusion flashing across his face. His jaw still clenched so tightly that Dean was afraid he’d break a damn tooth. Dean stepped back a hair, smoothing the list out on his chest. He lifted it up to take a look, adjusting the angle a bit before his vision fully focused—the forties were catching up to him, okay?

“Damn, you got, like, thirty veggies on here. Produce aisle it is, I guess.” He grinned a wide smile at Cas, utterly unrepentant, and pushed the cart forward again.

Cas stood still flustered once again, though, now with a simmering annoyance that Dean was honestly reveling in.

—

To Dean’s delight, the produce aisle was nearly empty. The only sounds that filled the space were the hum of the lights and the misting spray that went off over the vegetables every few minutes—Dean freaking loved that thing.

“So,” Dean looked behind his shoulder as he strolled leisurely by the multi-colored fruits and vegetables. “Are all these veggies for you and Sam, or are you tryna feed a small army?”

Cas’s glare was sharp, but his cheeks were still tinged pink, a telltale sign he hadn’t fully recovered from earlier. “Many of them are for Jack’s recipes,” Cas said curtly, stepping forward and, with a firm but silent motion, claiming the cart back from Dean.

Dean stepped back with a smirk, knowing that Cas would spiral if he didn’t let him take control over at least this one thing. Not to mention, it was a small bonus to watch Cas’s hands grip the handle every time Dean teased him.

“Uh-huh,” Dean drawled, and while Cas made himself busy with loading the cart, Dean sauntered to the nearest stand of apples, grabbing one. He held it up to the light, inspecting it with mock interest. “Sam's always been a health nut about apples. Bet you got these on the list, right?”

Cas paused, giving him a wary look that said he knew Dean was up to something—which, he would be right. “Yes, Dean. Apples are on the list,” he replied with a dry and slightly exasperated tone.

Dean nodded, tossing the apple in the air a few times before putting it back on the stand. “Probably should get a bag of ‘em, right? More to share.” Although he was facing away from Cas, he knew the exact moment when the angel stopped frantically loading vegetables in small plastic bags, attention given over completely to watching Dean squat down in front of the basket of bagged apples.

He smirked to himself, knowing full well how the panties looked framing his hips. He of course took his time picking out the best bag of apples—or at least, that was the excuse he would’ve given Cas had he asked what was taking him so long. Though Dean was fairly certain he’d taken away Cas’s ability to speak.

When Dean abruptly stood up, swinging the bag of apples unnecessarily over his shoulder, he found Cas still locked on the spot where his ass had been, looking completely, and utterly entranced. Once his eyes finally met Dean, they seemed to plead with him and undress him at the same time.

Dean didn’t say anything, he just laid the back of apples nonchalantly in the cart, the sound of them hitting the metal grates was enough to snap Cas out of his daze.

“You okay there, Cas?” Dean asked, his tone all casual-like. He leaned lazily against the cart, arms crossed, one brow arched in question.

Cas straightened, his brow pinching forward in stubbornness. “I’m fine.”

Dean tsked inwardly—well that just wouldn’t do.

He might need to step up his game.

“Alright then,” Dean shrugged, pushing off the cart with a little spring in his step. He wandered ahead, meandering past the rest of the produce. “Still got some more fruits and vegs to go. Chop chop.”

—

By the time they left the produce aisle, the cart was almost half-full. Cas seemed to have recovered, his posture stiff but his focus firmly on the list he’d snatched back from Dean, who was following lazily behind him, tossing the occasional glance at the shelves but mostly keeping his attention on Cas.

They rounded the corner into the baking aisle, the warm smell of spices and vanilla extract lingering faintly in the air. Cas slowed the cart, scanning the shelves with the same intense scrutiny as before.

Meanwhile, Dean chewed on his lip, thinking of his next ploy.

The aisles weren’t very wide, barely fitting three people side by side before it got tight—which was a fact Dean realized he could take advantage of.

While Cas picked out some ingredients for the crumble that Jack had shown interest in making, Dean watched down the aisle, waiting for his moment. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for someone to come strolling along, an older lady. Her gaze was fixed on a section at the very end, which meant she would need to pass by Dean and Cas first to get to it.

Dean had been standing diagonal to Cas, but slightly in front, as they both searched for the right size bag of flour. Once the woman approached close enough that it would be clear she couldn’t get past until one of them moved, Dean quickly stepped back.

Except, he deliberately backed right into Cas.

The impact was light, but it was enough to make Cas stumble a step and grip Dean’s wrist to steady them both. He was sure neither of them missed the way Dean’s jean-covered ass pressed into Cas’s groin, eliciting a soft grunt from the angel.

The best part? He didn’t move until the old lady had shuffled all the way past them, and by the time they were safe to part, Dean realized he’d damn near pressed Cas all the way into the shelf behind them.

Dean turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder with a feigned apologetic look. “Sorry, Bud. Didn’t see you there.”

“Dean,” Cas finally said, his voice low and controlled, though the tension in his grip betrayed his frustration.

“What?” Dean replied, smirking.

Cas’s fingers remained tightly around his wrist, and Dean swore he could feel his hips thrust forward just a centimeter—the bulge in his pants had definitely grown. The way his lover breathed down his neck, dark, lustful eyes staring at him from his peripheral—it had Dean worried they’d get kicked out for PDA or something.

Hopefully that grandma that just passed wasn’t homophobic.

“You…” Cas whispered hotly near his ear, increasing his now-punishing grip on Dean’s wrist, “...are an insolent, insufferable, incorrigible, br—”

“Oh, talk dirty to me, Cas,” Dean challenged over his shoulder—not even remotely close to a whisper—while rolling his hips obscenely into Cas’s clothed dick. "You know how much I love alliteration."

A flush of embarrassment came over Cas’s features as he promptly pushed Dean off of him. He shot him a stern, disapproving look that Dean just brushed off with a grin, spinning around to fetch the bag of flour they needed.

And maybe it was his lucky fucking day, because the bag just happened to be on the top shelf.

He lifted his arms to get it, feeling his shirt ride up just enough to know the panties were visible, before grabbing the bag and turning to put it in the cart. Cas’s reaction appeared torn between horny and wanting to see more, and being incredibly done with Dean’s bullshit.

Which was actually right where Dean wanted him.

He didn’t try to scold Dean anymore, instead he simply took hold of the cart with a frustrated—sexually, and otherwise—expression, before continuing down the aisle.

—

By the time they’d got to the checkout—which Dean could honestly say he was shocked they even made it to—Cas looked like he was hanging on by a thread, his resolve slowly crumbling under Dean’s relentless teasing.

Dean started helping Cas unload the cart onto the conveyor belt. Cas took extra time organizing the items as they moved towards the cashier, obviously trying his best to ignore Dean.

Which of course meant Dean had to say something.

“Y’know,” he began, setting down a pineapple with a soft thud, “I’ve been thinkin. If you and Jack keep up this recipe stuff, maybe I can help you guys out.” He glanced at Cas whose guards seemed to lower just slightly. “With cooking, I mean.”

Cas nodded while stacking three boxes of noodles. “I’m sure we could work something out.”

Dean turned back to the cart, hiding his smile. “We could even get matching aprons, custom made. Yours could have like, ‘Chef Cas’ on it or somethin.”

Pausing briefly, Cas tensed, sensing where Dean was going with this.

“I mean, I know how much you love personalization.” Dean said, making sure to emphasize the word in a way that had Cas’s ears burning red.

Cas slammed a bag of carrots onto the conveyor belt just a little too hard, earning a glance from the cashier.

“Careful, Cas,” Dean chided with fake concern. “You don’t wanna bruise the produce.”

The cashier cleared her throat, interrupting the moment. Cas exhaled, clearly trying to regain some semblance of composure, as he started loading bagged groceries into their empty cart. Dean, just chuckled, pulling out his wallet and handing the cashier lady a hundred and fifty-dollar bill—the outrageous price temporarily dampening his mood.

They thanked the cashier, and after the cart was fully re-loaded, they walked towards the exit. Dean internally thanked himself for parking so close, because pushing the heavy ass cart—that Cas was now suddenly okay with Dean pushing—all the way to the end of the parking lot would not have been fun.

“Here,” Dean threw his keys to Cas, who caught them surprisingly effortlessly, walking ahead to unlock the car.

They’d done a lot of grocery trips in the past few months, but this was definitely the biggest one they’ve managed yet, which had Dean worried that they wouldn’t be able to fit them all in the backseat.

Sure enough, as they reached the car, Dean realized they were in for a challenge. The bags filled the cart to the brim, and while the Impala was a classic beauty, she wasn’t exactly designed for bulk grocery hauls

“Alright, this is gonna take some strategizing,” Dean muttered, opening the back door and assessing the space. Cas stood beside him, hands on his hips, watching with a neutral expression.

Dean started loading the bags, making sure the heavier items were on the bottom. He had just set down a bag of canned goods when he noticed another was tilting dangerously to the side, threatening to crush the bread.

“Damn it—” Dean leaned in further, stretching to fix the balance before disaster struck. He barely registered the cool air hitting the small of his back before he heard Cas’s sharp inhale.

Dean smirked to himself, shifting just enough to ensure Cas got a real good look at the waistband of his panties peeking out from beneath his jeans. As per the last hour’s events, he expected a reaction—a sigh, a huff, maybe even a muttered “Dean” under Cas’s breath. But instead, there was nothing.

Dean glanced up just in time to see Cas turn on his heel and grab the empty cart, pushing it to the cart corral. He didn’t think anything of it, though there was an undeniable feeling of disappointment in his chest.

He might need to dial it back a bit.

Dean finished securing the groceries before shutting the door. By the time Cas returned, he was already in the driver’s seat, engine running. Cas slipped into the passenger side, buckling his seatbelt without a word.

The silence stretched as they pulled out of the lot, the only sound coming from the rumble of Baby’s engine and the occasional rustle of grocery bags. They pulled up to the first stoplight, Dean’s fingers drumming on the wheel as he tried to think of what to say.

He cleared his throat. “So uh…Jack makin’ anything tonight or?”

“Cheeseburger quesadillas,” Cas replied plainly, keeping his gaze fixed out the window.

“Damn, kid’s getting creative.”

Cas hummed, but left it at the noise.

Dean sighed, stomach twisting.

He’d expected Cas to be pissed at the teasing, he always was when Dean acted like this. But in the past, the bratty act was more of a game that both of them equally enjoyed playing. Cas might have acted broody, but ultimately, he liked when Dean got a little out of control, when he stepped out of place.

Because that simply meant Cas could put him back in it.

This time, however, Cas didn’t appear to be planning how to make Dean pay for his afternoon of teasing, he just looked…tired.

Maybe that was just Dean overthinking it, but still. Cas had been giving him openings before—he was flustered, exasperated, but he was still engaging. Now? Now Cas was shutting him out, and that uneasy feeling in Dean’s chest only grew heavier the closer they got to home.

Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe their little game had stopped being fun for Cas somewhere along the way, and Dean had been too wrapped up in teasing him to notice.

And if that was true, it meant that Dean had fucked up even more, now.

He was such an idiot for thinking this would work—for thinking this was even a good idea in the first place.

By the time they pulled into the bunker garage, Dean was practically gripping the wheel. As soon as the car was in park, he turned to Cas, the words spilling out before he could think twice.

“Cas, I’m—”

Cas cut him off with a single look, his words dying before he could even get started.

The angel’s voice was steady and firm when he finally spoke. “Dean.”

Dean, unsure of what to do, nodded dumbly.

Once he had Dean’s unwavering attention, he continued. “You and I are going to unload the groceries together.”

He paused again, presumably waiting for a nod of confirmation from Dean, which he gave.

“When we're finished, I am going to put them away by myself.”

Another nod.

“While I am doing that, I want you to go to your room and wait there.” His brow lifted, and instantly Dean was a goner. “Do you understand?”

Dean swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He could feel his pulse in his ears, his skin buzzing with anticipation.

Still, he forced a smirk, trying to keep up the act. “Damn, Cas, not even gonna cook a girl dinner first?”

Cas didn’t waver. “Dean.”

It was just his name. Nothing more, nothing less. But the weight behind it, the sheer command in Cas’s voice, sent a shiver down Dean’s spine.

Dean nodded for a fourth time, his voice quieter when he replied, “yeah, o-okay.”

—

Dean had severely underestimated how long it would take to put a cart full of groceries away.

When Cas had told him to wait in his room, he was beyond relieved—not only because it meant that Cas was in the mood, but also because it meant he hadn’t overstepped.

Well, probably. There was still a small chance Cas had told him to come here so he could scold him in private. But most likely that wasn’t the case.

Of course, the first thing he’d done when Cas had sent him away from the kitchen, was actually go to the bathroom to clean himself up. He didn’t know exactly what Cas had in store for him, but he knew he wanted to be fully prepared whatever it may be. Then, he went to his room, shut the door, and took off every bit of clothing he had except for the panties.

In the first few minutes, he’d felt giddy. He knew exactly how he wanted to pose while he waited for Cas and exactly what he’d say when he walked in. But as time passed, very…very…slowly, his confidence started fading.

What if Cas was actually mad at him? What if he didn’t want Dean naked and waiting for him? If Cas wanted to have a serious talk with him, it would just make Dean look even more like an inconsiderate—add that to the list of alliterative names for him—asshole for assuming it was sex that Cas wanted.

But also…he knew Cas, right? He should know by now when the guy was horny, he’d seen it countless times.

Still, he couldn’t help the insecurities from rearing their ugly heads as he began pacing the room.

He bit his nails—a nervous habit that he’d never been able to really shake—until there was nothing left but skin to bite. It felt like hours before he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

When it creaked open, Dean snapped his head up, standing frozen in the middle of the room as Cas stepped inside.

For a moment, Cas didn’t say anything. His gaze swept over Dean, tracking slowly over his whole body before his expression shifted—just slightly. A flicker of something crossed his face, too quick for Dean to decipher. Surprise? Approval? Something else entirely?

Dean felt nauseous.

“I—I’m sorry,” he blurted, voice uncharacteristically unsure. “I didn’t know if—” He swallowed. “I can get dressed.”

Cas didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer, closing more of the space between them, his expression still unreadable. Then, in a voice that left no room for argument, he said—

“Turn around.”

There was only a second of hesitation before Dean slowly turned around to face the bed, his hands that had been balled into fists at his side loosened as he clasped them politely in front of himself. The uncertainty from before changed to something more thrilling. He would never admit it out loud, but he loved when Cas made him squirm under his gaze.

And that’s exactly what he was doing now, all of the sudden too aware of how he looked, how he held himself.

In an attempt to distract himself, and also to confirm that Cas was enjoying the view, he turned his head and whispered loud enough that his angel could hear.

“Do you like them?”

The only response he was met with was the sound of footsteps approaching even closer, until eventually he could feel the warmth coming from Cas’s body behind his back, the breath falling from his lips and onto his neck. Large, warm hands clasped over his shoulders, the same place his handprint had been all those years ago.

Cas leaned his head near the crook of Dean’s neck, breath hot as he whispered in return. “Get on the bed, Dean.”

Dean tried to swallow the whimper that climbed up his throat as he stepped up to the bed, crawling onto all fours on his memory foam mattress. A few seconds later, he felt the bed dip. Cas wasted no time getting his hands on Dean, this time landing on his hips, fingers tracing the lace edges of his panties.

It was futile to stop an embarrassing sound from escaping his mouth, his back bowing as he melted into the contact. He wanted Cas to have the best angles of his name stitched into Dean’s thong.

The act should feel humiliating. It should make Dean feel degraded and less than to be in a position like this.

But not with Cas.

With Cas, it felt like he was being worshipped. Like he was giving himself to Cas as a gift, one that he knew the angel treasured more than anything in the universe.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice rumbled dark and smooth, like a thundercloud approaching swiftly on the horizon.

“You…”

His hands inched up his sides, light touches that made chills spread through Dean’s entire body.

“...have no…”

Dean gasped softly as he felt lips press into his lower back, right above the waistband of his panties.

“...idea…”

One of his hands turned inward, coming to rest on Dean’s chest, while the other remained firmly on his waist. Cas’s groin pressed into Dean’s ass, and the reminder that Cas was fully clothed while Dean was nearly naked had his blood heating.

“...what you do to me.” The words, almost gritted, were spoken into the skin of Dean’s back.

Dean moaned, a little louder than he had planned to, preening at the praise. Still, he managed to declare in a raspy voice, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Cas just growled, his hands now roaming freely up and down Dean’s body as he admired the way Dean’s hips swiveled and squirmed beneath him.

“You look so beautiful, Dean. Absolutely stunning wearing my name on your skin.”

Another whimper.

Fuck, that voice.

Grinding into his ass, Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and pressed down until Dean collapsed on the bed with a huff. Once he was fully prone, Cas straddled the back of his thighs and grabbed his ass, fingers slipping under the side of the panties.

A flush of heat spread over Dean’s entire body, but especially his face, which he quickly buried into the bed, hands fisting the comforter.

“Tell me, love,” Cas murmured, thumbs stroking his freckled skin. “What made you buy these, hm?”

Dean would’ve answered, if he could even catch his breath. But it was fine since the question was more rhetorical than anything.

“Was it because you wanted everyone to see them? Is that why you strutted around, unafraid of anyone getting a look?”

Dean knew Cas was teasing him now. In actuality, he was very careful not to let the panties show unless it was just him and Cas around—so ultimately, he knew the claims weren’t serious.

But still, Dean couldn’t help the way it rubbed him wrong.

“Or maybe,” Cas shifted, his hands going to the bed, crawling up so that he was fully lined up against Dean’s back, his clothed dick pressing into Dean’s crack. “Maybe you wanted to tease me, to infuriate me, so that I would give you what you were craving?” Strong fingers found their way to his hair, entangling in the strands and pulling on them until Dean’s head was lifted with a gasp.

“Tell me, Dean.”

Usually, such a portrayal of dominance would be right up Dean’s alley. He knew that Cas ‘scolding’ him and accusing him of motives he didn’t really have, were all part of the game. And while that was partly the reason he wanted to entice Cas, he couldn’t help but feel like this was missing something.

It pained him to think that Cas thought this was all just an act—just a way for Dean to patch up and to push past what happened last week without really addressing it. And sure, Dean wanted this, wanted Cas to take control, to claim him, to push him into the mattress and remind him exactly who he belonged to. But that wasn’t all of it.

He hadn’t bought the panties just to be some cheap apology, or a distraction, or even just to drive Cas crazy—though that was a nice bonus. He’d done it because he wanted Cas to know—without a shadow of a doubt—that he was his. That there was no one else, no one that could ever compare. Dean might’ve been an idiot about how he went about it, but his reasons were real.

Cas pulled his head back further, forcing Dean’s spine into a perfect arch. “Tell me,” he demanded again, his tone rough and controlled, but Dean could hear the faintest hitch of desperation in his voice.

Dean opened his mouth, trying to think of how to play along, to give Cas whatever answer he wanted just to get his hands on him again—but instead, the words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“I-I love you.”

Cas stilled. The fingers in his hair loosened, before slipping away completely. The warmth of his body remained flush against Dean’s back, unmoving, but there was a shift in his demeanor—something softer.

Dean turned his head back as far as he could to meet Cas’s eyes, lifting onto his elbows, and repeated himself with a much steadier voice. “I love you.”

Cas sat back slightly, his blue eyes searching Dean’s face. It’s not like he hadn’t heard Dean say it before, but for some reason, he looked surprised at the proclamation.

Dean swallowed hard, but he didn’t look away. “I got them for you,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “Because you’re the only one I would wear them for. You’re the only one I want, Cas.”

Cas didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. He leaned down, capturing Dean’s lips in a kiss, the angle, while slightly awkward, was no less intimate. Dean sighed into it, his hands coming up to Cas’s jaw, clutching onto him like he needed to anchor himself to the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, Dean stared up at him, breathing hard. An unsurety had seeped into Cas’s expression, Dean could tell there was more he wanted to say—more they both wanted to say.

But, in an attempt to not lose the momentum they already had going, Dean just smiled softly, his fingers brushing Cas’s stubbled cheek. “Talk after?”

Cas nodded immediately, his breath warm against Dean’s lips. “Talk after.”

They kissed again, this time, more raw and heady. Their lips slid against each other, tongues slipping in every few seconds. When Dean began to feel the strain of his position on his neck, he parted from the kiss, falling back on the bed. Cas didn’t miss a beat though, he went straight to kissing Dean’s neck—leaving marks that Dean was not looking forward to explaining to Sam or Jack tomorrow.

“Fuck, baby…” Hands reaching behind himself to grab Cas’s hair, Dean arched his back, grinding his ass into the angel.

Cas groaned at the sensation, meeting the pressure with a thrust of his own.

Their movements, fluid and harmonious, went on for several moments, until eventually, Cas finally decided to get the show on the road. He sat up, still straddling Dean’s legs.

“I want to take this slow,” he began, still panting, “I want to take you apart piece by piece.”

Dean buried his burning red face into the bed, the words making him achingly hard and needy. 

“I want to make you beg and squirm with pleasure. And I want to do it for hours. ”

A muffled whimper broke from Dean’s throat. Sure, he’d asked for this, but damn if he ever got used to Cas talking dirty to him like that.

There was a small pause before Cas spoke again. “But maybe I’ll do that another time.”

Breath hitching, Dean quickly shot up, turning his head back with a confused and slightly aggrieved expression.

“Because right now, sweetheart…” Cas’s palms caressed his waist. His next words were whispered in a plea. “I need to take you hard and fast.”

Oh.

Oh.

Hell, yeah.

Dean licked his lips, the challenging demeanor from earlier, returning instantly. “Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”

Cas fell right back into his commanding role, scooting back on the bed to make room as he grabbed Dean’s hips and lifted him back to his knees. The raw strength alone had Dean moaning loudly.

He was surprised, but not upset, when Cas’s large hand shoved his face into the mattress, muffling his sounds, and causing his back to arch obscenely, his ass, and the panties, in the air on full display. 

“Quiet, love. You don’t want the rest of the bunker to hear your desperate moans, do you?”

Dean shook his head obediently, the moans now broken down to soft mewling sounds.

“Good boy.”

Holy fucking hell.

Hand still holding Dean’s head down, Cas slipped the other under the thong strap of the panties, trailing in between his cheeks. Dean shivered, hole clenching in anticipation. Cas made a soft, approving sound in his throat when his middle finger came in contact with Dean’s lubed and prepared entrance.

“So wet already, baby. Did you get yourself ready for me, hm?”

Dean tried to reply between his rapid breaths, the words came out pathetically strained. “Y-yes…”

“So good for me, sweetheart.”

Without any further teasing, Cas began stretching Dean even more. With his previous preparation, it didn’t take long for his lover to get three fingers pumping steadily inside him.

If Dean was anything, he was a fucking whore for Cas’s fingers. They were just the right length and thickness that, combined with his expert skills and extensive knowledge of Dean’s body, his fingering made Dean lose his ever-loving mind every goddamn time. He found his prostate with ease, curling his fingers and adding the perfect amount of pressure to have Dean trying to move away from the blinding pleasure. But his escape attempts were all in vain, as Cas moved his other hand to his lower back, keeping him presented and anchored in place.

“Does that feel good, Dean?”

Before he could answer, Cas’s wet fingers exited his ass, leaving him empty and wanting, and trailed down to his dick. If he thought the fabric was a tight fit before, it was to the point of almost tearing now. His leaking and throbbing dick barely fit, the tip already peeking out of the front.

Cas hand was light, barely brushing against his clothed member, and it was driving Dean insane. He just needed friction or pressure of some kind.

“Patience, Dean.” Cas laughed softly and Dean’s grunts of indignation. “You’ll be coming soon enough.”

But soon wasn’t soon enough.

Just as Dean thought of a protest, he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled and felt the weight of Cas moving directly behind him. Cas moved the thong of his panties to the side as best he could, exposing his fluttering hole.

Fists clenching the comforter, Dean held his breath and waited for what was coming next. The quiet, wet sound of Cas spitting into his hand made Dean’s stomach tighten, and it wasn’t long before the tip of Cas’s spit-slick dick was pressing against his entrance.

“Relax for me, baby.”

Dean did his best to obey, willing away the tension in his muscles, and breathing out in relaxation. Cas took the chance to begin pressing in.

Although he’d been stretched—twice, now—the burn was inevitable because of the mere fucking size of Cas’s cock. It wasn’t a bad feeling though, not by any means. Dean relished in the feeling of his angel’s dick stretching him, filling him, owning him.

He adored the way he felt so full and loved and…

“Fuck—” Sparks of pleasure flew behind his closed his when Cas managed to pull all the way out and slam back in with unnatural force.

He did it once more.

And again.

And again.

Until finally, he plunged in as far as he could, burying himself in Dean’s body and continuing to bend his back in a way that would leave Dean sore for days.

It wasn’t until that moment, when Cas began to grind his dick into Dean, fully seated, that he felt the rough material of his pants and realized, again, that he was still fully clothed.

Dean groaned with intensified arousal.

Cas had been so desperate to bury himself inside his lover that he hadn’t even pulled his damn shirt off. He’d simply pulled his cock out of the fly in his pants and began fucking away into Dean’s pliant and naked body.

And god if that didn’t have Dean forcing himself to not come.

“Fuck me…” he begged, “please—please, Cas…fuck me fast…please…”

Cas groaned and sighed, his hands sliding down Dean’s back and back up to his hips, gripping hard. “As you wish, my love.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, reverent and unshaking, Cas began fucking into Dean relentlessly. Dean shook with the sheer pace of his thrusts, letting out cut off moans and grunts.

“C—as! Fuck—fu…ck…oh…god—ngh…”

He continued pounding into Dean so hard that the wooden bed frame slammed against the stone wall. It was only his hope that Cas had done some angelic sound proofing, because with the sound of the bed shaking and his own unabashed moans, they were definitely not being discreet.

“Dean—my Dean—fuck…so beautiful…taking me so well…”

Dean’s back muscles rippled with each brutal thrust into him, every one hitting the spot inside him so perfectly that it was truly a miracle he hadn’t come yet. In fact, it was almost too much, the feeling of Cas drilling into him, carving a space inside his body like he owned him.

Which, in a sense, he did.

“That’s it, love, that’s it…” Cas whispered roughly, his voice strained from his constant movement into the hunter.

Dean whimpered, followed by a particularly loud yell—one that he would be mortified by if he wasn’t so lost in the sensation of being fucked into oblivion. When Cas’s perfect assault on his body became too much, he called out brokenly, “need…t-to c-come...C—as…please…pl—ahh…”

“You want to come?”

The minute Cas asked the question, Dean knew he was in for it.

A low, resonant hum filled the air behind him, and Dean instantly recognized the familiar sound of Cas’s grace stirring to life. The soft glow that always burned in his pupils casted a subtle light onto the bed. Dean exhaled sharply, feeling the warmth prickling over his skin as Cas’s grace washed over him, eventually focusing in on the base of his begging member and tightening around it like a makeshift cockring.

The bastard was keeping him from coming.

“N-no…” he mewled pathetically into the sheets, “Ca—pl—please…let—lemme…please!”

Dean swallowed, eyes squeezed shut. Now that Cas was blocking off his ability to come, the building pleasure began to spill over with no outlet to go to. He cried out, feeling utterly overwhelmed, and tried to move away.

But with Cas’s grip on him, it was useless. He was forced to lay there, back arched, ass raised and presented for his angel, unable to do anything else but take whatever Cas gave him.

Still exerting the same amount of energy that would’ve sent Dean into a cardiac arrest had their places been switched, Cas asked again, unwavering.

“I said, do you want to come, Dean?”

“Yes!” Dean sobbed, his slobber, tears, and sweat already forming a small puddle under his face.

“Then ask me,” Cas commanded darkly, pressing brutally into him.

When Dean took a breath to answer, he was cut off by a hand in his hair again, pulling his head back—not far, but enough to let him know who was in control.

“Use my name, Dean.” Cas’s free hand moved from his hip to the rhinestone letters on his panties, trailing across them before breathing out, “my full name.” There was an unspoken ‘please’ in the demand.

“Castiel!” Dean shouted with all he had. “Pl…ease…may—may I c-come—fuck, fuck—please…Castiel…wanna come…”

The fingers in his hair loosened before trailing up his body and returning to his hips. Cas thrusted forward hard, fast, and deep. A warmth spread over Dean’s back as he felt Cas lay his body over him, cock still plunging inside his ass.

“Come, Dean.” Cas moaned into the back of his neck, “come for me.”

He didn’t have to tell him twice.

As soon as the grace ring was lifted, Dean obediently came on Cas’s cock, his walls clenching and tightening as his dick spilled cum, half in his panties, and half onto the bed below him.

It was pure fucking ecstacy.

He may be in his forties now, but Cas sure as hell knew how to make him feel like a teenager all over again—coming without any additional help and embarrassingly fast.

Cas didn’t stop there though, he continued pounding into Dean, one hand quickly reaching under him to feel the mess he’d made in his panties. As soon as his finger’s came in contact with the wet and ruined material, he let out a groan of raw lust, his thrusts faltering slightly as he came hot and fast in Dean’s ass.

“Fuck—fuck…Dean…” his sweaty forehead pressed into Dean’s shoulder blades. And finally, he collapsed.

They both fell onto the bed with a grunt.

After a few minutes of recovery, both of the men panting and soaking in the endorphins released between the two of them, Dean’s nose began to scrunch at the feeling of Cas’s softening dick sliding slowly out of his ass. Not to mention, the mess in his panties wasn’t helping either.

He grunted, pushing on the bed to get Cas off his back.

The angel who never slept, always seemed to conveniently have the unnatural need to do so whenever he orgasmed—especially when it was inside of Dean. Thankfully, he wasn’t fully unconscious this time, since he managed to roll off of Dean with a sigh.

Now both on their backs, Cas looked over at Dean with a tired yet satisfied smile. It was probably the first one he’d given him since their fight last week.

And Dean would be returning it too, if not for the sticky feeling of cum turning tacky and thick in his panties and ass.

Usually, he’d just get a wet washcloth, since the feeling of Cas magically cleaning him just never seemed to feel right. But today, he was lazy.

“D’you mind?” He exhaled, nodding towards his lower half.

Realization flashed over Cas’s face as he quickly nodded, sitting up and waving a hand over the problem areas. Grace cleaned him instantly, returning the panties to their previous state and leaving Dean’s dick dry and soft.

His ass was a different story. Though the cum wasn’t dripping out in copious amounts anymore, Cas had left his hole with the feeling of a fresh fuck, wet and stretched and slightly sore.

Dean raised a brow in the angel’s direction.

“I um,” he coughed, trying to sound innocent, “I thought maybe you’d want a round two after our talk?”

Dean had apparently committed some heinous sin in his past life, because the fact that he lived with three people who could pull off puppy dog eyes that had him instantly melting was obviously a curse of some kind.

Not that it would take much for him to agree to something like that.

“Right,” he laughed softly and leaned in for a kiss that Cas could barely return with his widening smile.

They snuggled for another few minutes, neither of them in any hurry to break the quiet. It was obvious they’d both missed this—missed each other—and neither wanted to rush into the heavy stuff just yet. The warmth, the steady press of their bodies, the way Cas’s fingers absently traced over Dean’s ribs like he was memorizing him all over again—it was enough to make Dean wish they could stay like this forever.

But eventually, the moment had to end. And if anyone was gonna break the silence, Dean figured it’d be him.

So he was surprised when Cas beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas’s voice was rough and low, like it physically hurt him to say it. “About before. I—I know I overreacted.”

Dean blinked a few times before quickly sitting up against the headboard. The action had Cas sitting back, his eyes wide and uncertain as they locked onto Dean’s.

“Are you kidding? That’s supposed to be my line, man.” He let out a breath before shaking his head. “What I—I did…I deserved all the shit you gave me for it. Every bit of it.”

Cas’s brows furrowed, his expression twisting like he wasn’t sure how to take that. “I wouldn’t say deserved.” His fingers twitched where they rested on Dean’s stomach, like he wanted to reach for him but wasn’t sure if he should.

“I was just…hurt. I didn’t want to think you were just—” he exhaled sharply, gaze flickering downward, “—flirting for sport. That it didn’t mean anything to you. But in the moment, it felt like it did. And I reacted poorly because of that.”

Dean swallowed, guilt knotting tight in his throat. “I’m…so sorry, Cas. I never meant to make you feel like that. Not even for a second.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was stupid, and I wasn’t thinking, but genuinely, I was just—trying to get info out of her. I wasn’t thinking about how it looked, or—or how it might’ve made you feel.”

Cas nodded, watching him closely. “I understand that now.” He hesitated, then reached out, fingers grazing Dean’s wrist. “And I wanted to believe you then, too. I just...”

Dean exhaled, his head tipping back against the headboard. “It’s okay, Cas. It was a sucky thing to do. I wouldn’t forgive me either.”

The feeling of Cas’s hand bringing his face back to look at him had a buzz stirring in his chest. “I forgive you, Dean.”

Dean felt a stinging in his eyes, his lips quivering slightly as gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Cas.”

There was a pause. And Dean knew that he could just leave it there. Cas had forgiven him after all, so there was no need to continue.

But that nagging feeling wouldn’t let up—the worry that Cas still didn’t fully understand just how deep this ran for him.

Dean swallowed. “Cas… I—” He exhaled, struggling for the words. “I need you to know, the way I—I feel…about you…it’s not like anything—” Another pause. His chest felt too tight, too full. “Anything I’ve ever felt.”

Cas didn’t interrupt. He just watched him, patient, waiting.

Dean licked his lips, pushing forward. “And I know we’ve already said all that emotional shit to each other, but I just—” He cleared his throat, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “I need to make sure you know…all the girls—or anyone—I’ve ever flirted with, none of them. None, compare to how I feel about you.” His voice softened, eyes locked on Cas’s that shined as they stared back at him. “So if you ever think there’s something they have that you don’t, or—or that there’s some reason I didn’t show you the same attention before—you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Cas’s brows pulled together slightly, something vulnerable flickering across his face.

“If anything,” Dean huffed out a dry chuckle, “I was—and sometimes, I still am—a hell of a lot more scared to flirt with you than I ever was with any of them.”

Cas tilted his head in skepticism, a small, amused smile breaking through. “You’re scared to flirt with me?”

“You're hot, man,” Dean shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer.

Cas’s expression softened further, his fingers grazing over Dean’s arm. “Thank you, Dean. So are you.” Dean’s cheeks burned under the praise. "And I appreciate you clarifying all of that for me. Truly. I know it can be difficult for you to express your feelings, but whenever you do...I just want you to know that I don't take it lightly."

Dean kept his gaze fixed on Cas's hands, giving him a small, shy smile of gratitude.

"I will say though," Cas continued, this time with more playfulness, “it didn’t seem like you were very scared to flirt with me today,” he pointed out with a smirk.

Dean felt his face heat even more, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved in closer, pressing his forehead into Cas’s temple. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess I wanted to show you all of that…with the panties.”

Cas let out a small, breathy laugh. “Very interesting methods.”

Dean groaned. “Yeah, yeah, I know it was dumb.”

“Dumb? Yes.” Cas replied, his voice dipping lower as he shifted closer, lips brushing against Dean’s jaw. “Enjoyable?” He nuzzled in, his mouth trailing slow, deliberate kisses down Dean’s neck. “Very much so.”

Dean shivered, his hands gripping Cas’s waist. “Shit, Cas…”

Cas just hummed against his skin, and yeah—Dean had a feeling they were definitely done talking.

Dean barely had a second to catch his breath before Cas was kissing him again—slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. There was no urgency this time, no rush to get anywhere fast. Just the warm press of their mouths, the soft pull of lips and the slide of Cas’s fingers up his neck, threading into his hair just the way he liked.

Cas, who was still frustratingly clothed, rolled them over until he was pressing Dean back into the mattress, knees bracketing his hips. Dean melted into it, his hands mapping the broad expanse of Cas’s back, pulling him in closer until there was barely any space left between them. The weight of his angel above him, the slow, intoxicating drag of lips and tongue—it made Dean dizzy. He let himself get lost in it, in him, tilting his head to let Cas kiss him deeper.

Cas let out a low, satisfied moan in return, grinding into Dean with a renewed sense of arousal.

Dean pulled away for long enough to pant out with a lazy grin, “you really like doing that, huh?”

Cas’s own lips twitched, amusement flickering through the hunger in his gaze. “Yes.” His thumb brushed over Dean’s cheek, the touch achingly gentle. “I like having you like this.”

“Hm,” Dean hummed at the contact before lifting a brow, “think it might be a little more enjoyable with…y’know, less layers?”

Looking between them, Cas huffed out a soft laugh, “you’re probably right.” He sat up, grabbed the hem of his sweater and slowly pulled it off—making Dean’s mouth water. As soon as the tan, taught skin of Cas’s chest was revealed, Dean couldn’t help running his hands up and down his body.

They’ve both changed over time, but Dean didn’t mind, in fact, he quite enjoyed the weathered, grown up bodies they both possessed—it served as a precious reminder of the things they’ve been through together, the reason they’ve even made it to this moment.

When Cas tried to lean back in, he was stopped by Dean’s palm pushing against his chest. “Ah ah, pants too, buddy.”

The platonic nickname probably would have gotten him in trouble had Cas not been so desperate to get his hands back on Dean that he went straight into awkwardly trying to kick his pants off.

Dean sat up, deciding to give him a bit of help. Once all the layers were finally gone, Cas pushed him back on the bed. Dean lifted his jaw, ready for another kiss, but instead, Cas just began crawling down his body, eventually stopping near his panties.

“I am very excited to ruin these again,” he whispered hotly into the freshly grace-cleaned material.

Dean hissed at the sensation, legs spreading instinctively.

Each time Cas’s mouth encased Dean’s growing erection through his panties, it made his head spin. He couldn’t help but buck his hips slightly.

“Dean,” Cas breathed, stubble tickling the inside of his thigh.

“Yeah?” Dean responded with his eyes closed and head tipped back.

“How expensive were these?”

The question prompted Dean to lift his head up in confusion. “Uh…pretty expensive I think, why?”

“I just want to know how much I’ll owe you when I render these unwearable.”

“Damn, Cas you can’t…”

Cas’s fingers trailed under the waistband as his mouth continued to slobber all over Dean’s erection, even occasionally grazing it with his teeth.

“C-Cas—please…”

Cas stopped for a second, fingernails lightly scratching the skin of Dean’s hips. “What are you asking for, Dean?”

Hell if he knew, he just needed something.

He whimpered. “Just…want you…”

Cas’s brow raised. “To what?”

“Do something!” he pleaded, “please….fuck me, touch me, something…”

“Very well, sweetheart.” Cas smiled smugly. “Spread your legs for me.”

Dean obeyed, spreading his legs as much as he could, making room for Cas, who reacted by grabbing the back of his thighs and pushing them into his chest.

He groaned at the stretch, it was painful, yet deliciously arousing at the same time.

“You want me to fuck you, Dean?”

His knee-jerk reaction was to reply with a ‘fuck yes,’ but before he could, something softer and deeper filled his chest.

“I want…” his hands came to rest over Cas’s that were still pressing into his legs. “I want you to make love to me, Cas.”

As had been the theme for pretty much the whole evening, Cas responded by kissing Dean, deep and sensual and oh so lovingly.

“Of course, my love.” Cas smiled, then looked down. With one hand, he reached under Dean, pulling the panties to the side once again.

He spit on his hand, a few times actually, to make sure he was good and wet before lining up with Dean’s entrance for a second time that night.

When he pressed inside Dean’s body this time, it was slow and savored, the desperation wasn’t something that needed to be quenched with quick satisfaction, but with closeness. And Cas made sure that they were as close as possible as he fully seated himself inside Dean, practically bending him in half.

“You feel amazing, sweetheart.” Cas purred against his lips. “Made for me.”

Dean, who was unable to speak with Cas’s cock damn near touching his esophagus, gave several quick nods, moaning open-mouth below Cas.

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean’s brows pinched, his breath stalling as he looked up into Cas’s eyes. They were shining, so bright and so full of all of the same feelings Dean was experiencing.

“I—” he swallowed, trying to gather his bearings, “I love…you too.”

And with that, Cas began making love to him.

He moved like water, smooth waves washing into Dean over and over, each one more deep and harder than the last. All, angled so perfectly into his prostate, that it didn’t take long for him to begin whining with need. It wasn’t ferocious or animalistic, like their first fuck, but it was a steady, continuous movement that had Dean almost blacking out with how good it felt.

“Come whenever you'd like, Dean.” Cas whispered, his shoulders bearing the weight of Dean’s shaking legs.

Dean didn’t remember how long it was after he was given permission to come that he spilled into his panties for a second time, but it must not have been long, because it took Cas several overstimulating thrusts later to reach an orgasm of his own.

Their moans and whispered affections melted into the kiss that followed—slow and deep, the final seal on everything that had been said and unsaid between them. It wasn’t just about want or need anymore. It was a reassurance, a confirmation, a quiet promise that they were okay again.

By the time they finally stilled, bodies tangled together on top of the sheets, the air between them was thick with warmth and lingering touches. Cas ran a hand through Dean’s damp hair, his fingers lazy, soothing. Dean sighed into the crook of his lover’s neck, utterly spent. His skin was still flushed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion, but he felt lighter than he had in days.

Dean hummed sleepily, his arm draped over Cas’s waist. “Think I might just stay here forever,” he mumbled, voice rough with exhaustion.

Cas chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “As tempting as that sounds, we do have dinner plans.”

Dean groaned dramatically, tightening his hold. “No, now we have sleep plans.”

Cas smiled, turning over enough to glance at the clock. “Jack will be waiting for me in the kitchen by now.” He gave Dean a pointed look, though there was an undoubted softness there. “I promised to help him cook since someone suggested that he not go to the store with me today.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Dean coughed. Guilt pricked at him—he had insisted Jack stay behind, ruse or not, and he knew it wasn’t exactly fair. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of gratitude. Jack was a great kid, and he deserved to have time with his dad, he was just grateful Jack was willing to share him.

Cas gave him a look that said, ‘that’s what I thought,’ but of course, Dean couldn’t let him get away that easily.

“He can wait a little longer, right?”

“Dean...”

“Fine,” Dean rolled his eyes in jest, “but if you really think you’re gettin’ out of this bed without a fight, then you have another thing coming.”

The corner of Cas’s mouth ticked up. “I think I’d win.”

Dean snorted but didn’t argue, instead letting out a contented sigh as he nuzzled back into Cas’s chest. “Five more minutes.”

Cas smiled, resting his chin against Dean’s head. “Five more minutes.”

Dean closed his eyes, smiling to himself. After a whole week of silent fighting, it felt so good to hold Cas in his arms again—to know they still loved each other, that everything would be okay, and that buying customizable panties to resolve a fight wasn't actually a terrible idea.

— (Epilogue)

“Three hours.” Sam’s left eye twitched with every syllable that came out of his mouth, his arms crossed firmly across his chest.

Dean used every ounce of self control he had left in his body not to laugh, though he was quickly realizing he was losing that battle.

“Three. Hours.”

Yeah, we get it Samantha, was what Dean would’ve said if he didn’t value his life.

“Look, man,” he sighed, waving a hand in the air like it was no big thing, “the kid’s gotta practice on somethin.’”

“My hair isn’t even that long!” Sam snapped, his voice echoing in the bunker halls.

“I’ll get him a mannequin for his birthday,” Dean tightened the sash of his robe and brushed him off, pushing past Sam to get to the source of whatever magical smelling food Cas and Jack were cooking up in the kitchen.

Sam chased after him, pointer finger raised up, “you fucking owe me.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he strolled towards the kitchen, Sam hot on his heels. “You’ve already run a huge tab for shit I've done for you. Let’s just call it even.”

“Yeah right!” Sam whispered harshly.

“Damn, guys,” Dean smiled as they walked in, “you got it smelling good in here.”

“Thanks!” Jack replied cheerfully, cheese sauce splattered on his cheek.

Cas looked stressed, but since there wasn’t smoke rising to the ceiling, Dean figured it couldn’t be that bad.

Jack, however, looked thrilled, wielding a whisk like a weapon. “I’m learning to make nacho cheese sauce!”

Dean grinned. “Nice, kid.”

Jack beamed, clearly pleased, while Cas merely sighed, wiping a smudge of paprika from his sweater.

Dean was just about to slide into a stool when Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You know what I think would be a great post-dinner activity to do?” he asked the room, voice dripping with forced casualness.

Dean stilled, oh shit.

“Movie?” he tried, but it fell short as Sam quickly cut him off.

“Nope.” Sam smirked, way too pleased with himself. “I think you should teach Jack how to do donuts in the Impala.”

Dean blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then a third time, because surely Sam had lost his goddamn mind.

“That sounds fun, I like donuts.” Jack smiled.

Dean buried his face in his palms.

“They don't mean the food, Jack,” Cas explained quickly, a smirk of his own forming on his face. Traitor.

Jack tilted his head the same way Cas always did when he was unsure about something. “Then what is it?”

Dean groaned, rubbing his face.

“Dean will show you. Right, Dean?” Sam asked, voice pitched up.

“We’ll see,” he replied, but everyone knew it was a yes. “Finish up dinner first.”

“Awesome!” Jack exclaimed brightly.

Dean fixed Sam with a murderous glare, but his brother’s only response was to repeat a low and gritted “three hours,” from the side of his mouth.

Dean exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. The sacrifices a guy’s gotta make to get a good dicking.