Chapter 6
When Dean wakes up, he's initially a little discombobulated and it takes him a moment too long to realise that this is because he's on the wrong side of the bed. The literal one rather than the metaphorical one. He can't see his mother's picture which is strange - like leaving the house and realising he's forgotten to put on the ring he wears on his right hand - but he's also hit with the realisation that if he's on the side of the bed that he never sleeps on, it must mean that someone else is in his place. Dean's not normally so groggy in the morning, but the weight of a foreign body in the bed last night meant that Dean's subconscious decided he needed to be on guard, just in case this person decided to attack. It's ludicrous, but Dean's not actually used to sharing a bed with someone, but it's a feeling that he's going to have to get used to. He hopes.
If Dean were the sort to indulge in his fantasy of the 'morning after' his and Cas' first night together, he might have assumed they'd wake up entangled; a beautiful mass of bodies. If he was the sort. Which he's not. Therefore he's absolutely not disappointed to wake up and discover that he and Cas aren't touching in the slightest. He hasn't turned over yet, because if he never rolls over, he won't have to face the possible disappointment of Cas not actually being there. It's a thought that makes his stomach drop. He currently has the covers hunched up far too high around his ears to be able to hear if Cas' still there by his breathing. He's not a snored either, apparently. Or he's lying awake just as terrified as Dean. Shit. Dean should do something. He should definitely roll over and be a man and snuggle his honey if he's there, or begin suitable one-night-stand meets walk-of-shame-in-your-own-home crisis management plans.
He's acutely aware of his nudity and the heat that has built under the warmth of the blankets in the night as he opts to gently twist himself rather than hurling his body over to the other side like he normally would. Dean's not normally one to be shy about his body - he's been told by many a causal acquaintance that he has a delightful ass - but no one likes to face the unknown with their dick out. This is why he usually tries to shuffle on at least some boxers after the main event. Who knows when one might have to vacate a space rapidly?
Dean enjoys space, so naturally he indulged in the largest bed his budget could afford as soon as he was enough of a grown up to warrant buying something as domestic as a bed. It's a sublime piece of craftsmanship and Dean rarely has a bad night's sleep as a result (present circumstances not withstanding). The downside of this is that even when he turns, he has to surreptitiously lift the remaining blankets in the middle of the bed to triple check there is actually another body occupying it. Sure enough, a gentle nudge reveals Castiel's beautiful spine - smooth, supple and with the barest hint of vertebrae protruding.
"Dean," Cas' voice startles Dean and his arm flails upwards involuntarily, "for the love of all that is holy, leave the covers alone and stop letting cold air in." He still has his back firmly towards Dean, but there's something eased in Dean's chest when he reaches back blindly and beckons Dean closer. Or at least that's the meaning Dean's going to infer from Cas' clumsy gestures. It's either a 'come closer' or 'fuck right off'. He's going to hope for the best for once.
His bravery is rewarded by Cas burrowing backwards into his chest and it's not long before a light film of sweat gathers between their bodies. Dean's so enraptured by it that he squeezes even closer still and trails his arm over Cas' waist and up towards his collar bone. It's pretty impressive how much power physical contact has when it comes to erasing his doubts. Maybe it's like morphine - he still has them, he just doesn't care that he has them while he's under the influence.
"So," Cas utters around a yawn, "that was sex."
Dean hums at the memory before he reads a little more deeply into Cas' words.
"Cas?" he draws out the vowel, careful not to make it sound accusatory.
"Hmm?"
"What do you mean 'so that was sex'? Dude, you've had sex before." He says it all to the back of Cas' head, because his brain is wondering if it can escape the same way that his stomach just went. When Cas remains ludicrously silent, he sits bolt upright and all but throws Cas on to his back so that he can look him in the eye. Or he would if Cas' eyes weren't still closed.
"Cas, what the fuck?" He pokes Cas childishly in the shoulder to get him to crack an eye, because he's fucking panicking. He hasn't slept with a virgin in nearly ten years and they need special care, don't they? Log burning fireplaces, mood lighting, flowers... Fuck. This wasn't special enough, he's ruined Cas' first experience of sex by not focusing enough on him - he should have pulled out ALL his best moves, not just some of them. Shit.
He's saved from his colossal freak out by the sight of Cas' grin. It's broad and covers his whole face, even more so as his chin sinks back into the bed.
"You alright there, Dean?" He doesn't sound in the least bit panicked which is tipping Dean over the edge.
"Cas, was last night the first time you've had sex?" He gets a mischievous grin and a non-committal shrug in response.
"Cas!" Dean's whine is downright embarrassing and he hopes Sam hasn't ventured home yet, or at least is sound asleep still.
"Dean," Cas stretches all the vowels in Dean's name back at him. Quite honestly, Dean's still thrown by the huge grin on his face.
"Are you messing with me right now?"
"Possibly."
"Cas - dude, don't do this to me -"
"'Dude' is also not an option," is all Cas says before he attempts to roll back onto his side again, and shit no, Dean's getting answers.
"Castiel, tell me the truth - was last night the first time you'd had sex?" The hysteria in his voice must loosen something in Cas because he reaches up and cups Dean's chin to pull him down for a closed mouth kiss.
"Dean, what difference does it make?" Dean's almost certain Cas is fucking with him, poor choice of words fully intended. He's just too calm about the whole thing.
"Of course it makes a difference! I would have... I could have..."
"You could have or would have what, Dean? Was it not enjoyable?" Dean shakes his head mutely - it had been highly enjoyable for both parties if his amateur opinion counts or anything. Dean doesn't remember the last time he felt so much spark between him and his partner. There was no need to politely avoid eye contact if the moment was getting too intense, or pretend that noises hadn't happened. Hell, they'd laughed over things that Dean usually finds himself mortified by. There was no need to pretend to be a sex God when he was with someone who believed in him so completely. Someone who gave as willingly to their partner as Dean did. Cas' actions last definitely hasn't screamed of inexperience (there may or may not have been actual screaming on both sides).
"Dean, the past is the past; whether you're the first or the hundred and first person that I've had sex with, it was our first time together and it was pretty fucking good." He smiles at his curse and Dean allows himself to be brought down to the bed again so that his head is pillowed on Cas' chest.
"So you're not going to tell me?" Dean says into Cas' chest several moments later. "Would you tell me if I was one hundred and first?" He challenges, hoping a different tact might yield more fruitful results.
"We're you not there for my very postmodern speech a moment ago?"
"Yeah, but Cas, you've met more than your fair share of people I've slept with. Hell, you probably remember more names than I do..." He lets his words hang and tried to subtly manoeuvre his ear over Cas' heart to hear any change in the rhythm. Cas just tsks at him and pets his hair.
"That may be the case, Dean, but we're still here now and they're not."
Dean lets the words settle over him. Cas is a jealous sonofabitch at the best of times, so this metaphorical clean slate is leaving Dean somewhat lost. He has no intention of betraying Cas or his trust, but he doesn't know if he can just let the past go.
"I've hurt you, though - in the past, I mean." Dean tends wounds for a living, he knows what happens if things aren't given the right conditions to heal.
"You didn't know, Dean - or even if you did, I was too young for it to be something you took seriously."
"I've always taken you seriously," Dean implores.
"Dean," Cas smiles, "I don't take me seriously all the time, especially not when I think about the ways I used to fantasise about you, how you'd storm into school one day, grab me and kiss me in front of everyone..."
"Du- Cas, was your subconscious trying to get me arrested for interfering with a minor?" Dean teases. "Did you imagine me climbing on top of a coffee cart and proclaiming my love for you? Was there a musical number?" Banter he can do. It's comfortable, easy - especially with Cas.
"I told you it was foolish!" Cas pokes his side indignantly and Dean can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. "You were my best friend's incredibly hot older, unobtainable brother. Of course I fantasised about you being the first person I ever slept with, and then later it was about you storming into the house to take me away in the middle of the night. Fighting off my cousins and uncle... I suppose fantasy did effectively become reality there..."
It's on the tip of Dean's tongue to ask about the virginity thing again, but he suspects it'll piss Cas off, so he hums and draws Cas in tightly. "You saved yourself, Cas. We just happened to have a safe place for you to go." He's not being self deprecating, Cas literally just walked out of there one night and never looked back. Dean had very little to do with it, other than drive with Sam to pick Cas up from the diner he now works in. He said it was the only light on at that time of night, Dean likes to think someone was watching out for Cas and sent him to Missouri until Dean could get to him.
He's interrupted from any semblance of sentimentality by Cas smacking him viciously on the ass - despite the covers which should have softened it. "Hey Winchester," he says as he throws the covers off of Dean completely (see, this is why sleeping naked is bad, it's all soft exposure and no dignity). "If I blow you in the shower, will you buy me breakfast?"
And with that glorious notion, he rolls out of bed, stretches his body up to his full height, winks at Dean over his shoulder and then proceeds to walk purposefully out of the room.
Dean hopes sincerely that his eyes don't bug completely out of their sockets as they track the motion of Cas' truly spectacular ass disappearing out into the corridor. He also hopes Sam isn't home or he's going to catch an almighty eyeful as Dean hurries after his asshole boyfriend.