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Not to corrupt a falling angel even further, but somehow Dean finds himself in a dimly lit motel room alone with Castiel, offering him a cigarette.
It went like this. They went to some cowboy-themed bar, some of the monsters there yeed their last haws, Dean got a shiner for his troubles and Cas keeps asking him how a cowgirl can be ‘reverse’. A typical evening.
Gradually losing his grace and wings must suck enormous balls, but at least Cas got some of the disappointment out of his system by beating up those poor bastards, and now they are both fuzzily relaxed back in their shitty room. Still, Cas offered to heal him, when Dean took his shirt off and plopped down on the tiny squeaky bed, rummaging in his bag for a smoke, but the feeling of aching muscles, a few scratches and a cigarette between his teeth feels like home to Dean so, no, no healing.
Cas keeps looking at the cigarette with such undivided attention that Dean can’t help but ask, “you wanna try one?”
And who’s Cas if not somebody who’s taking the apples from the garden of Eden for Dean to make a pie.
There’s just one left in the pack and Dean chuckles a bit, thinking about some kind of fucked up destiny games being played there, because if not god then something even weirder must be looking after them. Or laughing at them. At this point it’s all the same.
Cas sits beside him, the lighter clicks and Dean shows him how to inhale smoke, Cas diligently copies him and coughs. That makes Dean laugh harder than maybe necessary but, holy shit, they are sitting in this shitty room after a brawl in a cowboy bar and he’s teaching a billion-year-old creature how to smoke cheap cigs. And he fucking coughs. The laughter is a bit bitter, like smoke, because coughing is such a human thing, after all.
Then it dies completely on his lips when Cas, being a good student as usual, does everything right the second time and exhales, looking up, his eyes glowing slightly. That looks unfairly hot and Dean moves closer without thinking, drawn in. His brain is still rebooting because after a few quiet moments of just watching Cas smoke and flick the ash into the ashtray, the first thing out of his mouth is, “let me show you how to shotgun”.
Cas finishes his cigarette, puts it out and looks quizzically at Dean. Because of course he does, Dean’s being an idiot but it’s too late to back out, so he might as well add more depraved behavior to the mix. He moves closer again, and if Cas weren’t so new to sarcasm and bitchy comebacks - he would’ve reminded Dean about his precious personal space now. But they are both too distracted, staring into each others’ eyes, the air around them turning thick, and that has nothing to do with cigarette smoke.
Finally, Dean unfreezes and instructs Cas to close his eyes and open his mouth. Cas is about to argue but at the last moment huffs and does as told. Something’s telling Dean that this is a very rare occasion and he’s internally puffing up with pride. Dean inhales the smoke of his smoldering cigarette, leans in and slowly exhales into Cas’ open mouth. Only, the thing is, the instructions lacked one crucial point. What to do next.
So this is how their first kiss happens.
Cas just inhales and closes the remaining distance, gently brushing his lips against Dean’s, sharing the smoke, and Dean’s been too hungry for too long to deny himself anymore. They start off a bit awkward, uncertain maybe, learning each other’s touches, scratchy stubble, searching hands. Dean’s not sure how much experience with that kind of thing Cas has (he gets irrationally jealous every time he remembers the strip club, that’s why he still doesn’t know what exactly happened there besides the holy lecture), so he doesn’t rush, head still a touch foggy.
Then Cas lets out a quiet uncertain moan, as if he's not sure he's allowed to be affected this much, and that sound is the beginning of the end. He wants to hear it again, he wants to know all the sounds Cas can make when they are making out, he wants to undress him and touch skin, he wants to be touched in return. He knows he’s not allowed to want, let alone so much, but right now he doesn’t fucking care. The remaining cigarette bud burns his fingers, going out, but it has nothing on the burning inside him.
He sucks on Cas’ tongue and the next moan is louder, Cas’ hands coming up to grip his waist tight, and the fog in his head swirls into a hurricane, and they will both be swept away by it. Today is the day of great decisions for Dean, apparently, because his next move is to straddle Cas and shove himself against him as close as possible. Cas goes with it without a word, readjusting his grip on Dean and kissing him hard. It's still a bit sloppy, but Dean loves it even more because of it.
Dean knows a few new things about Cas now. He knows that Cas is a biter, because he keeps nipping his lips, his jaw, neck, collarbone, carefully avoiding the bruises and scratches (he wants to punch him for it because the alternative is to cry). Dean also knows that Cas likes it when Dean touches his hair, tugging a bit, because he makes soft growling sounds every time Dean does it. He knows that Cas is not shy (as if he ever was), because once he understands that Dean is in no way against being touched and groped (if he listened to his thoughts now all that’d be here is pleasepleaseplease), he slides his huge fucking hands to Dean’s ass and grinds against it, just taking. Oh and Dean also knows now what Cas’ dick feels like, pressed against him.
They are not even bothering with the clothes, Dean thinks he might pass out if he has to spare even one moment from being glued to Cas. Besides, it’s not like he’s not on the verge of coming already. It would’ve been embarrassing if Dean had cared in the slightest. Fortunately, instead of caring he's moving sinuously on top of his personal demise, mouth opened slightly, panting and whining, because, fuck, it feels so good and he feels so alive and finally in his skin, he can't possibly stop.
Cas is sweating and Dean thinks he hears a stray “fuck” from his lips, which throws him for a loop, but then Cas says “Dean” in his damn rough voice, breathless, and, yeah, Dean's done for. He grips Cas' neck, groaning somewhere into his shoulder, hips snapping hard and fast, riding out the orgasm like a man on a mission. He hears Cas' sharp intake of breath and feels his hands petting his thighs gently, lips kissing his temple, and, jesus fucking christ, he's not done coming, he can't process these touches without a tiny sob.
They stay like this for a few more seconds, Dean coming down from the high and Cas just holding him. Ironically, this is too much for Dean to handle, so he changes lanes as quickly as possible and shoves his hand into Cas' pants. It's Cas' turn to grip him for dear life again, pushing his face into Dean's chest and moaning brokenly. Dean strokes him with ease because Cas is wet, wetter than he expected, and his own cock gives a twitch at that clear indication of how much Cas is enjoying it. It's been a while since he jerked someone else off, but it's not like Cas has a wide range of dudes who have done it for him before to compare, so they are good. More than good really, because Cas is so responsive to everything Dean does that his hips occasionally lift off the bed and Dean's glad he's still gripping Cas' neck with one hand because otherwise he would have ended up on the floor by now. Yee-haw or something. And then Cas slaps his hand on the handprint on Dean's shoulder, chokes on a moan and comes.
Dean feels on fire. The hurricane finally swallowed him and is tossing his insides around within the walls of his body however it pleases. His shoulder burns, his chest burns, his eyes see nothing but a white light. Through the noise in his ears he hears a flutter and his hand blindly goes to Cas' back and, yes, something soft and electric meets his touch. It's shivering as Dean pets the feathers, some bits are missing, but Dean is sure Cas is still beautiful. Then the feeling is gone and the burn softens. It's like a warm midday sun, cradling him, soothing. His vision returns but there's no light around except for the glow of the neon sign far down the street and Cas' eyes, which are peering apologetically into Dean's very soul.
Cas fucking blew all the lights out. And in the meantime healed all of Dean's recent injuries. Scratch that, Dean thinks he's healed some of his old injuries too, judging by the way his joints and ribs don't cause him any discomfort anymore. Everything except the handprint. This fucking angel will be the death of him.
Dean leans in and pecks Cas on the lips, letting him know that it's okay, he's not mad or anything. He may be falling in love even faster now, but eh.
They don't let go of each other for a long time after, just exist calmly in each other's arms. And when Dean finally gets up to go take a shower, Cas evidently not leaving his room tonight, he completes the day by saying -
"So, do you wanna know more about the reverse cowgirl next time?"
Cas chuckles and goes to join him in the shower.