Smoke

Dean left Cas standing at the side of the bed and pulled T-shirts and jeans and flannels out of his dresser. There had to be something that would fit Cas.

“Dean, anything is fine,” Cas said, after a few minutes.

Turning with a shirt clutched in his hands, Dean saw Cas leaning slightly, as though trying to see what Dean was doing more clearly. Cas straightened, his gaze lifting to Dean’s face. He looked bemused.

“You nearly died,” Dean said, because it seemed important to get that clear.

“Yes. But I didn’t die.”

“But you nearly did.”

“But I didn’t.” Cas frowned. “As far as these things go, we’ve both had worse. Why is this time so hard for you?”

Dean opened his mouth, but he couldn’t quite get the words to form in his mind, let alone troop out of his mouth in any sensible way. He just stared back at Cas, who lifted his chin as his eyes widened.

“Is it because we just kissed? Has that made it worse?”

That sparked a neuron, freeing up some words.

“We didn’t kiss,” Dean said, and pushed on as Cas’ frown grew. “I kissed you. You didn’t kiss me back.”

“And that’s the problem?” Cas asked.

Before Dean could answer, Cas stepped closer, really close, and curved a hand around the side of Dean’s face. His fingers made it round to the back of Dean’s neck, and his thumb settled near Dean’s ear. Cas had huge hands, now Dean came to think about it.

His lips were even softer than they’d seemed out in the library, too.

Cas pulled back, looking just on the edge of nervous.

“Is that better? Or has it made it harder?”

Dean really wanted to believe Cas knew how that sounded. Hell, maybe he did. The guy couldn’t be that naive, not with everything he’d seen and with what Metatron had dumped in his head. Either way, Dean gave in to the impulse to follow that thread.

“It’s a start,” he said. “But we can aim for harder.”

And he grinned.

“I don’t know what-”

“Let me show you,” Dean said.

He moved Cas back until there was space between them, and slid his hands up under the material over Cas’ shoulders. The shirt was thin, cool, and it slipped down Cas’ arms easily.

“That okay?” Dean asked, in case Cas really didn’t get what the cheesy innuendo had been about.

Cas nodded, his lips parted.

“Good. It okay if I keep going?” Dean asked, and trailed one hand down to Cas’ belt.

Another nod.

Dean bit his own lip as he unbuckled the belt, feeling Cas’ hips shift with the movement as he pulled the belt free of each loop. For someone who could be as immovable as the mountains themselves, Cas was letting himself be moved by this. It made Dean wonder how responsive he’d be in other ways.

The zipper sounded loud in the otherwise quiet room, and Dean paused. Tactical error, leaving Cas’ shoes and socks. The demons had left those on him.

“Er. Been a while since I’ve done this,” he said, voice low. “Give me a minute.”

He heard Cas take a sharp breath as Dean sank to his knees. Interesting. The guy clearly had some understanding, and some expectations. Dean would have to remember that.

“Mind out of the gutter, Cas,” he said.

But he let himself look up in a movement he’d had a lot of success with in his younger days, knowing what the sight of Dean on his knees, staring up through his lashes, could do to a man. For good measure, he licked his lips. Cas’ interest was far too close to Dean’s face to be missed.

Dean wrapped an hand around Cas’ left ankle.

“I’m just gonna deal with these,” he said.

At Cas’ nod, Dean pulled the laces undone and urged Cas to lift his foot. Maybe he should have had Cas sit down first, but when Cas rested a hand lightly on Dean’s head, maybe for balance, Dean found it hard to regret doing it this way. Especially when Cas stroked across Dean’s hair, causing a ripple of tinging sensation over Dean’s scalp.

Okay. Maybe he’d learn a few new things about himself here, as well. Always good to grow as a person.

“Let’s just work on getting you out of these clothes, okay, Tiger?” Dean said, and Cas didn’t look at all put out by the tacky pet-name.

Dean had made a lifetime’s study of weaponed pet-names, and Cas just acted like it was a perfectly fine thing to call someone you were part way through undressing, like he didn’t get it was usually dismissive and trite. Maybe a good thing, given Dean hadn’t meant to be defensive. Old habits.

Once Cas’ feet were bare, Dean rose to his feet, undoing the zipper the rest of the way and settling his hands on Cas’ hips, under the fabric.

“I can stop,” Dean said, because Cas had been silent for a few minutes.

“No.” Cas sounded certain, at any rate. “I want… Keep going.”

Dean did as he was told.

Naked, Cas looked every bit as good as Dean had expected he would. Better. More vulnerable, but more touchable, too. And mostly hard.

Dean stroked one hand along the angle of Cas’ hip, the other cupping Cas’ face with a thumb under the guy’s jaw, adjusting Cas’ head until he had it tipped back and was looking right into Dean’s eyes. Dean had never thought before that he’d find it so compelling to be standing fully clothed when his partner wore nothing, but it could just be that everything with Cas felt so loaded, so full of potential and sparks, that anything would be exciting.

“I can find you something to wear,” he said.

“Yes,” Cas said, and Dean felt a rush of disappointment. “I imagine I should get dressed at some point. Sam might not like it if I walked around naked all the time. But right now I want you naked, too.”

The smart-mouthed fucker.

Cas didn’t help Dean undress. Instead, he let Dean push him until he sat on the bed, leaning back slightly with his hands behind him, and watched Dean strip. It wasn’t like Dean put on a show, but the way Cas’ gaze drifted up and down his body was enough for him to take it slower than he might have otherwise.

“See anything you like?” Dean asked, because he couldn’t stop trying to derail this with crappy humor, it seemed, even though he didn’t want to.

“Yes,” Cas said, as though that was a perfectly normal question to ask. “Would you like a list?”

Instead of answering, Dean moved closer, and it was his turn to look down at Cas. Right. Cas looked to be a natural at looking up at a guy, and Dean would be asking about exploring that later, but just now he wanted closeness, not a blow-job.

“Get on the bed properly,” he said, and watched Cas obey at once, pushing himself back until he had his head on the pillow and was laid out on top of the covers.

Dean followed him, leaning on his elbow and running a hand up Cas’ chest, his throat, and back to his cheek.

“You, er, you get we don’t have to do this?” Dean asked.

Some part of him was sure Cas was just going with Dean’s lead, or that he felt he owed Dean somehow.

“Shut up and kiss me again,” Cas said.

Dean obeyed.