Work Text:
“I need you to pretend we’re dating”, Dean slurs and leans heavy against Cas‘ shoulder to bring his mouth close to his ear. The smell of Cas’ shampoo and something darker, Cas’ own scent, fills his nose.
He feels Cas’ chuckle more than he hears it over the constant thrum of the bar. Some kind of indie rock blares in the background, too weak to compete against the chatter and shouts. Warm lips tickle the shell of his ear. Cas asks: “And why is that, I wonder?”
Dean turns to look over the sea of heads and points to the red-head at the bar. “See that one over there? Amara from finances. She’s got a thing for me and won’t let me go if I don’t give her a good reason to lay off.” He looks back at Cas and goes for the puppy eyes Sam does so well. “Help a guy out?” Cas grins despite clearly being caught off-guard.
The Sandover Christmas party is in full swing. Dean is pleasantly buzzed and yeah, he does want to get away from the constant flirting and ass-grabbing Amara doles out whenever he’s near, but there might be another motive for asking Cas, if he’s brutally honest. Ever since Cas started his position in HR two months ago, Dean has a hard time to keep himself from staring at those blue eyes and those sinful lips.
Apart from the usual small talk and short greetings in the hallways, today was the first time they had time to talk. And Dean’s hopes that Cas would be dull and boring enough for Dean to lose interest had gone out of the window pretty quick. Cas was witty and sarcastic, full of sass, and they had talked for an hour straight about favorite books and movies, moved forward to family stories and found themselves in a deep philosophical discussion about what they wanted from life, all in a pace that felt natural even if it did take Dean usually a lot longer to open up with a stranger. Cas’ knee had been pressed against his the whole time, a warm and constant reminder of the weeks Dean spent lusting over the new guy.
Now Cas’ hand lands on Dean’s hip, casually almost, and the touch feels scorching through two layers of fabric. Hot breath falls on Dean’s neck and makes him shiver. Cas’ gravel voice drops even lower when he speaks again. Dean’s stomach twists, sharp and immediate, at the sound.
“And what would that entail?”
Dean puts his right hand onto the wall behind Cas and the movement brings their chest flush. Dean waits for Cas to laugh it off, to untangle himself, but Cas … Cas doesn’t step back and his palm is still burning on Dean’s hip. A breath catches in Dean’s lungs. This is happening, he thinks, and his heart picks up a faster beat, stumbles against his ribs so hard that he wonders if Cas can feel it.
He doesn’t trust his voice so he presses his cheek a bit harder against the side of Cas’ face in warning before he moves his lips along Cas’ stubbled jawline, slow, slow, slow. Cas’ chest expands against his and constricts on a sigh when Dean finds the edge of his mouth.
“I see,” Cas mumbles, and then his free hand comes up to the side of Dean’s neck and a light push bring their mouths together. Cas’ lips are soft but demanding, a glorious contradiction, and Dean gets a bit lightheaded as Cas takes control of the kiss. There’s hunger in the way Cas presses close, a heat that makes it clear Amara from finances has nothing to do with this.
Dean’s body moves on its own, forward, until Cas’ back hits the wall, and then closer still, seeking the heat of Cas’ body against his own. In a sudden flash of clarity, he draws back for a second, unsure if this was too fast, if they should stop, but Cas’ hold on his neck tightens and his fingers curl into the tendons possessively.
Dean inhales on what may count as a whimper, his mind helplessly struggling with this side of Cas and the question what else he might be hiding under the impeccable suits and the stern demeanor. And then he stops thinking altogether. Cas surges forward again to capture his mouth. His tongue darts out and licks along the seam of Dean’s lips, sinful and teasing, and Dean is all too ready to grant him access.
God, it’s only a kiss, but his skin is burning and getting to tight to breathe properly as Cas plunders his mouth as if he owns it, and still he keeps his grip on Dean and holds him in place.
With weak knees, Dean finally catches up and gives back. Cas takes a sharp breath when Dean sinks his teeth into his plump bottom lip, and sucks it into his mouth just like he fantasized for the last weeks. Dean brings his left hand up to bury his fingers in Cas’ hair. The kiss turns sloppy as their breathing goes ragged, wet and perfect, and altogether inappropriate in the middle of a corporate Christmas party.
They’re close enough that Dean can feel Cas filling out against his thigh, and Cas sure as hell has to have a good inkling of Dean’s state, too. Dean holds back from grinding against Cas, but barely. Cas lets his head fall back on a groan when Dean tugs experimentally on his hair, causing their lips to part with a wet sound. Dean grins as he tries to catch his breath and cool down a bit. His boss might be looking at them right this moment, and not even Cas’ skillful mouth is worth a lecture from Zachariah about public indecency.
Cas looks debauched, eyes closed, lips red and puffy, hair messed up in ten different directions. He slides his hand down over Dean’s chest, grazes his nipple and settles on his hip to mirror the other one.
They’re still close enough for Dean to hear him grumble. “That was… unexpected.” Cas opens his eyes. “Do you think it worked?”
Dean needs a moment to remember, his brain hazy between the beers and the way he's still half-hard against Cas’ thigh.
Amara, right.
He smiles sheepishly, suddenly a bit shy where to go from here. When in doubt, settle for cockiness.
“I’m not sure. I think we should take this outside and make out a bit more. Just to be safe, you know?” He wriggles his eyebrows.
“Just to be safe,” Cas states with a solemn face but his eyes are wide and sparkling in the dim light. He pushes away from the wall, and grabs Dean’s hand. Their fingers weave together as if they’ve done it a thousand times, palms pressed together, and as Dean looks down at their hands a new and different feeling worms through his chest.
A beginning maybe.