Extra special shout out to menel, for reassuring me that I do not, in fact, suck.
This is not the first Dean/Cas fic I have ever written, but it is the first I have ever posted - which is weird, because they are my SPN OTP of Love.
It's Dean/Cas, with Angel-Turned-Human!Castiel, and some Sam. AU (altered reality), Humor, Romance, Angst(ish) (<--honestly I hate category listings). Castiel is confused about how to be human. Dean is just plain confused. They’ll figure it out. 4,578 words!
Title: Everything Is Just Fine
Category: Altered Reality, Angel-Turned-Human, Angst(ish), Humor, Romance
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: R (just to be on the safe side).
Warnings: Adult Language and Sexual Situations.
Summary: Castiel is confused about how to be human. Dean is just plain confused. They’ll figure it out.
Word Count: 4,578 words.
Date Written: Fall, 2010.
Disclaimer: Supernatural, not mine. Castiel, totally mine, Okay, he’s not, fine. I wrote this. I have no money.
Beta’d: Yes! By the lovely and rockin’ menel, who literally knew I was struggling with this fic big-time and offered to help. Because she is that cool. For serious, peoples.
Author's Notes: So, my Tivo died. I lost some shows I hadn’t seen yet. You will notice their brief mention throughout this fic. Then my bestest best friend ever, liptonrm totally got me my So You Think You Can Dance episodes that I had lost. And I was all hand-clappy and happy. So I decided to write her a thank-you fic, with three little scenes. Then some more scenes. Then 4,578 words later - Fic! This is not the first Dean/Cas fic I have ever written, but it is the first I have ever posted.
Dedication: For liptonrm, for my SYTYCD episodes. For being my awesome bestest best friend. For sharing in my Dean/Cas love and my love of the Angel-Turned-Human!Castiel genre. And for being you! Love you!!
So, they’d accidentally turned Castiel into a human. It happens. Dean wasn’t going to sweat it too much.
Sam was kind of freaking out about it, constantly apologizing and muttering about how they were all going to Hell for corrupting an Angel of the Lord.
Dean didn’t know what Sam’s problem was, but he figured it was done and now it was his job to show Castiel the ropes.
There was no law that said he couldn’t enjoy himself along the way.
“They’re called potato skins,” Dean said and pushed the plate towards Castiel. “These bowls hold the various toppings you can dip them in.”
Cas looked down at the plate, disgustedly. “Can’t I have a burger?”
“I ordered you a burger, that’ll come next. Try these first.”
Sam snorted and Dean glared at him.
“Sorry,” Sam said, though he didn’t really sound sorry. “It’s just, I love the way you ordered for him. The waitress either thinks he’s mentally disabled or like, your boyfriend.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Dean answered and put a straw in Castiel’s soda. “No one thinks Cas is mentally disabled.”
“I like this one,” Castiel said and pointed at the bowl of sour cream.
Dean looked over at the former-angel, who was holding aloft a potato skin wedge, little dribble of sour cream running down the side of his face.
“Here, Cas, let me…” and Dean flicked a finger down and across Castiel’s chin, swiping up the cream and licking it from his finger.
“I don’t need to see that,” Sam muttered and shoved away from the table.
“Is everything alright with Sam?” Castiel asked.
“Other than being on the rag?” Dean replied without hesitation, and then looked back at Cas, who was dipping his finger in the sour cream and sucking it into his mouth.
“Huh,” Dean said and did the same.
“Driver picks the shotgun,” Dean said.
“No,” Sam corrected. “It’s driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. My cakehole is shut, but I get shotgun.”
“Cas gets shotgun.”
“I don’t mind, Dean, really,” Castiel told him.
“Don’t be silly, Cas. I have important things to teach you and I need you up front with me.”
Sam threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t need to hear that,” he said and climbed into the backseat.
“Is everything alright with Sam?” Castiel asked.
Dean glared at his little brother, who was already stretching out as best he could in the backseat of the Impala. “He’s an idiot,” Dean said and then looked back at Cas with a wicked grin. “Today, I teach you about The Rolling Stones.”
“Huh,” Cas said and slid into the passenger seat.
“Cas, lay still.”
“I’m sorry, Dean. I can’t get comfortable in this bed. It is far smaller than the last one.”
“Just try it on your side.”
Castiel rolled so he was facing Dean, their breath mingling together and Castiel’s big blue eyes blinking sleepily at him.
“Not like that,” Dean said, because now he was the one who was uncomfortable. Castiel was right, this bed was way too small. “Face the other way. So your back is to my chest.”
Cas rolled the other way and Dean shoved him until the other man’s face was almost into the wall. “Better?” he asked.
“No,” Castiel sighed over-dramatically, as he was prone to do these days. “Dude, this sucks.” He was also trying out some new phrases, though Dean had no idea where he’d picked up that one.
Castiel kicked his feet out and they collided with Dean’s knees.
“Dude, lay still or I will totally hold you down and make you lay still,” Dean told him.
Sam sat up in the other bed. “I don’t need to see that,” he said, got up, pulled the comforter off and headed out the door, presumably to sleep in the car.
“Is everything alright with Sam?” Castiel asked around a yawn.
Dean scowled after his little brother and then looked back at Cas, who was smushed into the crack between the bed and the wall.
“Cas,” Dean sighed and pulled the other man towards him.
“Huh?” Castiel asked and let Dean wrap an arm around him, pull until they were flush against each other.
“Just shut up and go to sleep,” Dean muttered.
Castiel already was.
“If you auditioned for this show, they’d have to cut you,” Dean said around a mouthful of nachos. “On account of you being such a freaking hulk that no dance partner could possibly be tall enough for you.”
Sam glared over at Dean and then turned to the television. “What the hell is this?”
“So You Think You Can Dance,” Castiel said, from where he was perched on the edge of the other bed, shoveling in a Dairy Queen burger.
“Why are we watching this?” Sam asked and slurped his milkshake.
“Cas likes it,” Dean chided, “Be nice.”
“You can’t get him to shower or lay still to sleep or not twitch everywhere in the backseat, but you can get him to shove nasty food down his throat and watch bad TV,” Sam whined. “Like it’s not enough that we accidentally turned him human, now you have to turn him into a mini-version of you as well.”
Dean shrugged. “Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” and he passed the nachos over to Castiel. “I bet Cas could totally win this show.”
“What?” Sam asked in his incredulous, you’re-an-idiot voice.
“I mean, Angels are graceful and shit, right?”
“M’not an angel anymore,” Cas mumbled from his side of the room.
“Yeah, but some of that mojo and grace had to hold over. Plus, you’ve totally got a dancer’s body.”
“Okay,” Sam said, rather loudly, “First of all, I don’t need to hear what you think about his body. Second of all, he could not win So You Can Dance, or whatever it’s called.”
“Could so,” Dean said, lip pushed out in a pout. He was a little offended on Castiel’s behalf. Cas could totally do some of those fancy twirls and shit. Dean would bet he was a very flexible guy.
Huh, he thought, then shook his head to clear it.
“Because he’s graceful?” Sam asked.
Sam set down his milkshake and grabbed his brother by the chin, turning his head to look at Castiel.
The former-angel was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring transfixed at the TV screen, a bite of nacho and cheese halfway to his mouth. Some of the cheese was falling off the chip and dribbling down the grey t-shirt he was wearing.
“Sure, Dean,” Sam said, “He is totally graceful.”
Dean groaned and stood up. “Cas, man, that’s just wrong. We’ve talked about getting the food in your mouth, dude.”
“M’sorry,” Cas mumbled and shoved the rest of the chip in his mouth. More cheese dribbled onto his clothes.
“Take it off,” Dean said and waved his hand at Castiel’s shirt.
“What?” Cas asked.
“Yeah, what?” Sam echoed.
“If you can’t eat without getting food on your clothes, then you can eat without your clothes on,” Dean said and started lifting Castiel’s shirt up and over his head.
“I don’t need to see that,” Sam said, grabbing his milkshake and practically running for the door.
“Is everything alright with Sam?” Castiel asked, the sound muffled as Dean tried to coax him out of his tee.
Dean looked in the direction Sam had just fled. He vaguely remembered doing this exact same thing with an even messier little Sammy, once upon a time. “Don’t know,” Dean said and then looked back at Cas.
“Pants too?” Castiel asked him.
“Huh,” Dean said.
Dean was stretched out on the hood of the Impala, gazing up at the stars. Castiel was next to him, nearly pressed into his side. Only because they were big guys and there wasn’t really room on the Impala’s hood for them both.
“I call that one Poop Monster,” Dean told him and pointed up at a constellation.
“What’s its real name?” Dean asked him.
Cas sighed. “I can’t say their first names in any language that a human can understand.” He squirmed and then tensed against Dean’s side.
“I don’t think I can even remember their names anymore. Not their true names.”
Dean closed his eyes, tried to remember what Castiel always told Sam, whenever the younger Winchester would try to apologize or when one of them caught the former-angel feeling for where his wings used to be.
He made this choice, Dean repeated in his head, but reached over and ran his hand through Castiel’s hair anyway.
“I’m sorry, buddy. That sucks.”
Castiel pressed his head against Dean’s shoulder and Dean let him.
After a moment of silence, Dean said, “That one I call Rabid Bunny With Wings,” and pointed upwards to the night sky.
Castiel pressed his face against Dean’s shoulder.
“You cold?” and before the other man could answer, Dean was draping his jacket over them both.
“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel whispered and slid his hand across Dean’s chest, to rest over his heart.
Sam came back out of the bushes then, zipping up his pants, and stopped short. “Oh, um, I can go for a walk or something,” he said awkwardly.
“What?” Dean asked.
“I’ll just…” and Sam motioned off down the dirt path and took long strides away from them.
“Is everything alright with Sam?” Castiel asked.
“Huh?” Dean asked the disappearing back of his little brother and then looked back at Cas. “Yeah, everything’s great, man,” and he pulled Castiel’s head back down to rest on his shoulder. “Everything’s great.”
Dean and Sam came out of the pawn shop, where Dean had been trying to find some electronics to make an EMF detector for Castiel, to find the third member of their party chatting up a hooker.
A really quite skanky and, most likely, cheap hooker.
It wasn’t that Dean opposed prostitution. In fact, he was a big supporter of the career.
But, he reasoned, it was probably best not to let Cas get an STD in his first year of being human. And this woman definitely had an STD. Dean’s heart raced a little at the sight of her dirty hands stroking down Castiel’s bare arm. His face heated up as he wondered what would have happened if they’d stayed in the pawn shop any longer.
“Dammit,” he mumbled under his breath.
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Sam said. “He probably is talking to her about last night’s Daily Show or something.”
“I can’t leave him alone for two seconds,” Dean said and stalked over to slide his arm around Castiel’s shoulder. “Sorry, ma’am,” he drawled to the woman. “This one’s with me,” and he dragged Castiel back in the direction of the car.
“Dean, I was enjoying myself.”
“A little too much,” Dean said and then looked at Castiel’s crest-fallen face. “Man, Cas, if you want to hook up with a chick, that’s cool. Just not that one. Let me help you out. The two of us can go to a bar together, see what they’ve got to offer…”
“You know what,” Sam said and threw his hands up in the air, “I don’t need to hear about you guys having a threesome,” and he stalked off and climbed into the car.
“Is everything alright with Sam?” Castiel asked. “He seems troubled.”
Dean glanced at Sam, who had voluntarily gotten into the backseat of the Impala. “Huh,” Dean said and then looked back at Cas.
Cas was blinking up at him. “Dean?”
“What did Sam mean by a threesome?”
“You look good,” Dean said and made a hand motion for Castiel to turn.
“Do you think?” Cas asked and then rotated slowly, holding his arms out.
Dean looked him up and down, noted the way the jeans clinched at the hips, the way the jacket set across his shoulders.
“It’s better than wearing Dean’s old clothes all the time, isn’t it?” Sam asked, from the other chair outside the dressing room.
“I don’t mind wearing Dean’s clothes,” Castiel said quietly and then turned to look at himself in the mirror.
Sam nudged Dean in the arm. “Hey, man, when I said he needed his own clothes, I didn’t mean to step on your toes or anything. I’m sure it’s some kind of thing you two do, having him wear your clothes, or whatever,” and Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Huh?” Dean asked. “What thing we do?”
“I’m just saying,” Sam went on, picking at a thread on his sleeve, “It’s sweet, but he really does need his own clothes. But I maybe over-stepped my bounds. Sorry.”
Dean shrugged. “Dude, it’s Cas, he has no personal bounds.”
Sam looked over at Dean and then at Castiel, still staring at himself in the mirror. “Well, it’s good to know you have progressed to the no-personal-bounds stage, but I’m just saying, you know, whatever.”
“Man, I have no idea what you are saying. But it’s cool, Sammy,” and Dean reached over and ruffled the younger man’s hair.
“Dude,” Sam protested.
“How does my ass look?” Castiel asked. “I don’t want to have a saggy-ass problem, like Sam.”
“Hey!” Sam objected and then flicked Dean in the side of the head. “Turn around a little,” he added and made a motion for Cas to rotate.
The former-angel turned so said ass was right in their line of sight.
Dean cocked his head, looked at the way the jeans fit snug across…
Huh, Dean thought.
“I, uh, those look great, I have to…you got this right, Sammy?” and Dean headed for the far corner, just to grab Castiel some socks.
“Is everything alright with Dean?” Castiel asked.
“Other than being on the rag?” Sam replied without hesitation.
On the other side of the store, Dean was trying not to look back at Cas.
“They act like such an old married couple,” Dean said and waved his hand at the TV screen.
He was stretched out on the motel bed, back against the wall. Castiel was next to him, working on a crossword puzzle.
Sam was on the other bed, trying to sew up a hole in his favorite jacket. Dean hoped it would mean his brother would stop bitching about how Castiel had ruined it by letting that poltergeist smack Sam around on the last job.
“What the hell is this?” Sam asked, without looking up at the TV.
“NCIS, Los Angeles,” Dean told him.
“Why are we watching this?”
“Dean likes it,” Castiel chided. “Be nice.”
“LL Cool J,” Dean said, like that was the only answer Sam could possibly require.
“I can help with that,” Castiel said and looked over at where Sam was stitching up his jacket.
“Don’t do that,” Dean told him. “Samantha can sew it just fine by herself.”
“It’s my fault…”
“It’s not. And it’s a hazard of the job. Things get ruined. We fix them. Sam’s just a whiny emo today.”
“You’re a whiny emo everyday,” Castiel replied, but slid closer to Dean on the bed.
“You must be rubbing off on me,” Dean said and slung an arm around Castiel’s shoulders.
“Why are they like an old married couple?” he asked.
Sam leaned forward to catch Cas’ attention. “They’ve got that known-each-other-forever comfortable vibe going on,” he said and then scrunched up his eyes. “Kind of like you and Dean.”
“Weird,” Dean said and then disentangled himself from Castiel to head to the bathroom.
“Kind of like you and Dean,” Castiel said to Sam.
“Because Dean and I are brothers. We’re not…you know.”
“LL Cool whatever,” Castiel said and waved his hand around in the air, “and the kid from that Batman movie could have a brother thing going on.”
Sam started for a second at Castiel’s movie knowledge, then pressed on. “They could. And it’s true, Dean and I have known each other longer than you and Dean have…”
“I didn’t say that,” Castiel bristled.
“Sam,” Cas said quietly and slid forward to the edge of the bed. “I’ve held Dean’s soul in my hands and stitched him back together. That was an eternity.”
Sam jerked his head up, felt his mouth fall open a little. “I…yeah.” And then Sam was smiling softly. “Okay. Okay, Cas. I think I needed to hear that.” He stood and motioned at the door. “I’m just going for a walk, for a bit. And…Cas?”
“Yes, Sam?” Castiel asked, looking up at him.
“It’s good, you and Dean, you know?” and Sam let himself out of the room.
Castiel watched him until the door fell closed.
When Dean came out of the bathroom, Castiel was sitting on the end of the bed. Tears were sliding down his face as he worked the needle on Sam’s jacket.
“Cas? Man, what happened? What’d Sam say?”
Castiel shook his head. “Nothing. Good things. Sam said good things. It’s fine.”
“Then why are you crying?” Dean asked and settled on the bed next to his friend.
“I’m not the same being that held your soul in his hands.”
Dean blinked at him. “No. You’re not.”
“Hazard of the job. Am I ruined?”
“No, no, Cas,” and Dean placed his hand on Castiel’s back, between his shoulder blades, let his fingers spread out.
“But…can you fix me anyway?”
Dean slid his hand up, carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair and pulled the other man against him. “Nothing to fix, Cas. You’re perfect just like this.”
Castiel threaded his fingers through Dean’s free hand.
“Huh,” Dean said, watching the way their fingers fit together and then looked back at Cas.
Castiel turned his head up, met Dean’s eyes through wet lashes. “Alright, Dean?”
Dean nodded. “You know it, right?” he asked and smiled down at his friend. “You’re perfect just like this.”
And Castiel smiled back at him.
“This is ridiculous, Sam,” Dean called out.
“Shut it,” Sam grumbled from the front seat. “We’re all too tired to keep driving. It’s just for a few hours.”
“Dean, your elbow is in my ribcage.”
“Sorry, Cas, sorry. Here let me…” and Dean readjusted, let Cas turn on his side a little more. “Here, put one of your legs over my hips, like…”
“I told you two to behave back there,” Sam said and kicked at the back of his seat.
“Just trying to get comfortable, Sammy.”
“If that’s what you kids are calling it these days.”
Dean shifted, tried to push at Castiel’s head. “Dude, come on, turn your head or something. Your mouth is like all over my neck. You’re gonna give me a hickey.”
“What’s a hickey?”
“Oh good lord,” Sam shouted and threw open the car door. “I so do not need to hear this. Can’t you two behave for like two seconds?” and Sam stumbled out of the car, tugging his quilt along with him.
“What’s his problem?” Castiel asked and pressed up against Dean.
Dean wanted to say something like ‘the front seat is empty now, Cas, move up there,’ but the other man was warm and draped half over him and breathing pleasantly across Dean’s throat and…
Huh, Dean thought.
“All good, Dean?”
Dean just slid his arms around his friend’s back. “Go to sleep, Cas.”
But it was a long time before Dean did.
“You should have ordered your own bacon,” Castiel said and snatched his piece back from where it was hanging out of Dean’s mouth.
“I was gonna, but then you did. Did we forget to teach you about sharing when you became human?” Dean asked playfully and grabbed for Castiel’s last piece of toast.
“You two are so adorable I want to squish your stupid faces until they explode,” Sam grumbled from over the rim of his coffee cup.
“Maybe you wouldn’t be in such a piss-ass mood, if you didn’t keep sleeping in the car, Mr. Grumpy-Pants,” Dean told his brother.
“And yet, you never use the other bed. You like those cuddles from your boyfriend, eh, Dean?”
“What?!” Dean cried and accidentally kicked Castiel under the table.
“He said, you like those cuddles from…” Cas started.
“I. Heard. Him.”
The former-angel just smiled and clasped Sam on the shoulder. “I am going to relieve myself. Do not let Dean eat my breakfast potatoes.”
“Dude,” Sam said, “I am so not getting in the middle of that one.”
Once Cas was gone, Dean grabbed a forkful of hash browns off the other man’s plate.
“Dean?” Sam asked after a moment of silence.
“Yeah?” Dean answered around a mouthful of food.
“You’re happy right?”
Dean stopped and looked at his little brother. “Yeah, I’m good, man.”
“And Cas? He’s happy?”
“Sure. What’s up, Sammy?”
“Nothing, no,” Sam said and shrugged. “Just checkin’. It’s cool, man. I’m happy for you then.”
“Wait, what?” Dean asked, as Castiel slid back into the other booth.
“You ate some of my potatoes,” Cas chided, but he was smiling when he reached across the table and swiped a piece of hash brown off the corner of Dean’s mouth. Cas licked the piece from his finger and then sucked the end between his lips.
“Huh,” Dean said and continued to stare at the place where Castiel’s finger disappeared into his mouth.
“I got us two rooms,” Sam declared when he came back from the motel office.
“What the hell for?” Dean exclaimed. “Wasting all my hard earned money.”
“Your illegally and immorally earned money, I believe would be the correct way to phrase that,” Castiel told him.
Dean just scowled at him.
Sam laughed. “Dude, Cas, you finally get a room all to yourselves, you probably don’t want to ruin it by starting a fight right now.”
“What?” Dean asked, but Sam was already sliding a key into his palm and walking off.
“Good night, boys! Sleep well!” he called as he disappeared into the room marked 1E.
Dean looked down at the key, labeled 1D, and then back up at the room Sam had entered.
“Sam seems in a good mood tonight, yes?”
“Yeah,” Dean answered and slung an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, Angel-Boy.”
“Would you care to play some cards? Sam taught me how to play Rummy.”
Dean just smiled and dragged Castiel into the room after him.
Fifteen minutes later the TV was droning CSI in the background and Dean was down twelve bucks at the table. He threw his cards down and scowled at Cas.
“Think you’re cheating over there, buddy.”
“I am not cheating, Dean. I can just read your facial expressions. You are an easy read.”
“Like hell I am. I have a poker face, dude.”
“Well, I find it easy to read you,” Castiel replied and shrugged.
“Huh,” Dean said and stood up to fetch himself another beer.
Cas started dealing the cards again.
“So,” Dean said, “Sam gave us our own room.” He uncapped the bottle and leaned against the mini-fridge in the corner.
“Perhaps he is in need of some alone time,” Castiel said without looking up. “Do you understand what I am saying, Dean?”
Dean chuckled. “I think you were going for ‘if you know what I mean’, but yes, Cas, I do. And I don’t think that’s the reason.”
Castiel was looking at the TV, where that chick Dean couldn’t stand was waving her gun around.
“What do you think it is then, Dean? What is wrong with Sam?”
“How long have we been in this room?” Dean asked, instead of answering his friend.
Castiel glanced at the clock. “Nearly twenty minutes.”
Dean nodded and fell onto one of the beds. “I think this is why Sam didn’t want to share a room with us,” he said, and then grabbed a hold of the headboard and slammed it into the wall. “Fuck, Cas, jesus, fuck,” he said rather loud and rather breathy.
Cas stood up from the table abruptly and his chair rattled to the floor. “Dean! Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
Dean just smiled and slammed the headboard against the wall again. “Oh God, Cas, come on, baby.”
“Tell me what you need!” Castiel cried and then stopped short of the bed. “Did you just call me ‘baby’?”
Dean grinned. “See, Cas, Sam thinks you and I need some alone time.” And Dean bounced up and down on the bed, making the old springs creak and groan. “Fuck me!” he yelled towards the wall and then turned back to smile at his friend, huge and bright. “If you understand what I am saying, Cas.”
Castiel stood there for a moment, stock still and stared at Dean. Dean just crashed the bed against the wall again and made an obscene noise rise out of his chest.
Castiel cocked his head at Dean. He moved to the bed then and shoved Dean over until there was room for them both.
“Oh, Dean, yes,” Castiel said in a near monotone voice.
Dean slapped him on the chest. “Loosen it up, baby,” and then he grabbed a fistful of Castiel’s shirt and slammed him against the wall, hard.
“Dean!” Cas hollered and batted at Dean’s hold on him.
“That’s it,” Dean said, and then louder, “Come on, baby, let me hear you. Don’t gotta share the room tonight, you can make all the noise you want.”
“Dean!” Castiel hollered again and then looked at Dean pleadingly.
“Try ‘fuck’,” Dean whispered in his ear.
“Fuck, Dean, fuck!” Castiel screamed and slammed the bed against the wall again.
Dean laughed and started bouncing on the bed. He reached over and took Castiel’s hand in his own and urged the other man to bounce with him, the bed creaking ominously under their weight.
“Come on, baby, beg for it,” Dean said.
“Oh, please, Dean, please,” and Castiel was bouncing and out of breath and flushed and…
Huh, Dean thought and pulled Castiel flat on his back.
Cas blinked up at him with wide blue eyes and Dean straddled the smaller man, leaned down and whispered in his ear. “We’re going to slam this monster into the wall together, Cas. You ready?”
Castiel licked his lips until they were wet and shiny and …
Huh, Dean thought again and started rocking his hips. There were inches separating them until Castiel reached up and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck to help match his rhythm. Then their hips slid together and Dean felt himself nestle in between Castiel’s legs.
Dean groaned out, long and low and real. Castiel’s breath caught in his chest and his eyelids fluttered closed. Dean leaned down inexplicably and kissed each one. Castiel gripped the back of Dean’s neck, fingers clutching desperately at the short hairs there.
“Dean,” he gasped out, “Oh. Dean.”
The bed was still slamming against the wall, Castiel’s face was flushed and Dean’s chest was heaving.
Castiel opened his eyes and blinked up at Dean. “Alright, Dean?” he said, the words rushing out, breath tickling Dean’s nose.
“Yes, Cas, yes,” Dean answered and when their lips met against each other, everything else fell away.
If they had noticed anything at all right then, it would have been the sound of Sam’s motel room door opening and then slamming closed, followed by the all-too-familiar creak of the Impala’s back right door echoing against the night.