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Playing dress-up was fun, and all. But in some ways, the suit and bolo tie felt like a costume. Dean tightened the cords around the silver emblem at his throat, eyes on his reflection in the motel mirror.
On the other hand, the cowboy get-up was... more like a uniform. Sam would be back in a couple minutes, and off they’d go, ready to rid this one-horse-town of its grave-robbing monster. The clothes Dean got to wear were part of the job, like the FBI badge or the park ranger’s outfit they had stashed in the Impala’s trunk.
A means to an end the suit might be, but dang, did it make him look sexy. So he wore it proudly.
He gave the cowboy in the mirror a wink, stroking his hands down the form-fitting blazer. He left the bathroom looking for his hat, the proper felted wool one he’d kept for years, waiting for a chance to wear it for real.
Castiel was perched at the end of Dean’s bed, remote control in one hand, his new trenchcoat crumpled around him like the stone swathes of an ancient Roman emperor. He didn’t blink.
“What’cha watchin’?” Dean asked, bending to slip his socked feet into his cowboy boots.
Castiel was quiet for a moment, then said, monotone, “I don’t really know.”
Dean straightened with a sigh. He glanced at the TV screen, a little bulbous square thing with a serious reception issue. He huffed. “Dude, we watched this infomercial already. Spoiler alert: they offer you a one-time deal, and you gotta buy it five times over before it counts.”
Castiel blinked.
“Gimme that,” Dean said, plucking the remote out of Castiel’s limp hands, aiming it at the TV. “It’s daytime television, Cas, there’s gonna be an Oprah re-run on somewhere. Just gotta find the right channel— Ooh.”
He backed up a few channels, having flipped past something interesting.
Slowly he sank down beside Castiel, boots crossed at the ankle out in front of him. He grinned wildly, brightening inside. “Hey, I ain’t seen this one.”
On the screen was a cowboy, trotting across a desert on a horse.
“What’s the bet,” Dean said. “Judging by the image quality I’d say this was filmed... uh, late eighties. God knows what time period they’re goin’ for— Dude’s got a rifle that wasn’t manufactured until the forties. Jeez. Get a better historian. No wonder this crap never pinged my radar.”
On screen, the cowboy’s horse trotted up to a plateau dotted with bulging red rocks, surrounded by giant cacti. The hiss of insects basking in the desert heat filled up the TV speakers, and thus the motel room.
Another cowboy came into view, sunbathing on a rock. The sizzling sound broke with the soft, smooth voice of a man. “Well, speak of the devil. Ain’t seen you around these parts in some time...”
Dean grinned. “Hey,” he said, batting Castiel’s thigh with the back of his hand. “You oughta practise your Southern drawl before we head out there. Copy what the other guy says.”
Castiel squinted. He listened to the replying script, and then echoed it, mimicking the gruffness and the accent: “Ah only came out here so ah could see your pretty face agin. Jus’ as handsome as ah recall.”
Dean snickered, bowing his head. He felt a sudden heat in his face – embarrassment for the actors, probably. Or for himself, stuck with this goofball angel as his best friend.
Curious, Dean lifted his eyes back to the screen. The cowboys met face-to-face at the shaded entrance to a cave of red rocks. Their hands reached to take each other’s leather lapels, holding tight. Dean expected them to hug and clap each other on the back – maybe draw their pistols. But—
“Whoooooa,” Dean said, eyebrows rising: the cowboys fell against each other, lip to lip. Their hands grabbed each other’s backs and hair, one guy knocking the other’s hat off.
The heat in Dean’s face spread to his belly, to his palms, to his groin. He grew very flustered, very quickly, eyes darting from the dudes making out, to the motel carpet, then back. His hands crept to his lap, holding his own hand to hide his crotch.
Could he change the channel? This was weird. Cas was here and it was freaking him out.
But if he changed the channel just ‘cause they were both dudes, that would be straight-up homophobic and Dean knew it. No way he’d change the channel if one of these cowboys was a girl. He didn’t wanna let Cas think that kind of double standard was okay.
So he left it.
His heart was pounding. Skin burning. Ears burning.
Dick starting to throb. Mouth going dry.
Castiel simply watched, and blinked interestedly. He probably thought this was better than some everlasting commercial. Did he care they were dudes? Did he care they were—
“Okay,” Dean said, eyes skipping away. “Okay, this is porn. This is porn.”
The cowboys were down to their bare chests, one sliding his hand fearlessly the other guy’s leather pants, which he wore under his chaps.
Dean gulped, fists screwing together on his lap. He reached to snatch the remote up again, aiming it towards the TV.
But he watched for one more second. The cowboys were making very content noises, their hands sinking fully into each other’s pants. A nice pair of round buttocks appeared.
Just... two more seconds...
Well... Maybe one more minute...
Gulping around nothing, Dean licked his lips and let his remote-holding hand relax down to his knee.
He blinked slowly, his mind dazed by the clicking of desert ambience, the soft grunts and sighs of two men having a good time. Dean’s dick was half-hard now. He rested a hand over it, and left it there. “Jeez,” he breathed, eyes darting to his lap, then back to the screen. He gulped hard, and his voice came out deep and breathless as he said, “You know, if you look hard enough, Cas, you can kinda see... I guess the filmmakers actually put a lot of work into this thing.”
He glanced at Castiel, adding, “The directing ain’t bad, I mean. Porn is usually crap, to the point where I’m like – what are you filming it on, a potato? Hehh.” Castiel’s expression was inscrutable, so Dean went on, “I-I’m kidding – but... sometimes it pays to be a connoisseur about it. Gotta have some standards, right? I’d say this one’s okay. Even if they did get the historical details wrong. I mean, seriously, if you’re gonna yourself get off, Cas, at least do it while watchin’ something good.”
Now Castiel gave an unsure squint. “Dean?”
“Yeah, buddy,” Dean said weakly, eyes glued to the show.
Castiel hesitated, then asked tentatively, “I thought we weren’t allowed to view pornography when there are others in the room.”
Dean’s lower lip twitched. “Uh? Who told you that?”
“You did. Six years ago.”
Dean blinked a couple times, looking at Castiel. “I don’t... I don’t remember sayin’ that.” He glanced to his crotch, giving himself a quick squeeze. Pleasure seared under his skin, and out came an involuntary sigh of, “Shit.” He wore a flighty smile, his muscles tightening with arousal.
Castiel’s eyes lowered to where Dean put his hands. “You have an erection?”
Dean flushed hot. “Yeah.” He bit his lip. “I-It’s weird. Nothing else... usually gets me goin’ this fast. It’s probably just – good filmwork. A decent director can make you feel whatever they want you to feel, y’know?”
Castiel smiled a little too knowingly. “You really like cowboys, don’t you.”
Still biting his lip, Dean half blushed, half grinned. “Guilty pleasure.”
BAM BAM BAM!
Dean almost leapt out of his skin; someone had knocked at the door. Dean grabbed the remote and changed the channel, not caring what else came up. Anything would be more appropriate than what they’d been watching.
He breathed hard, getting to his feet. “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he muttered, one hand running over his mouth. He looked down at himself, knowing the rise in his suit pants was obvious. He took off his suit jacket and hung it over his arm protectively, then hurried to the motel door.
Sam was on the doorstep, and he entered looking preoccupied, sifting through papers. “I found some info on the graveyard robberies, a local barkeeper used to hunt around here and he’s been keeping records. I got some printouts,” he showed Dean the printouts, “and we just need to run by the library for names before we go digging up graves. Are you two almost ready to go, or—?”
Dean prayed his blush wasn’t visible in the reflected glare of the daylight. “Yeah...” He glanced over at Castiel at the same time as Sam did.
Sam screwed up his face. “Dude. Is Cas watching porn?”
Dean’s skin fritzed with static, but then he relaxed as he heard the purring moan of a woman coming from the TV. “Looks like!” he muttered. “Guess he got horny.”
Sam turned his perplexed semi-sneer on Dean.
Dean wet his lips. “Listen, uh. You and Jack go run your errands at the library, me ‘n Cas will swing by later.” He fretted, then came to a conclusion. “Actually— You know what, you and Jack can field this one by yourselves. Open-shut case, right? Call us if you have any trouble.”
Now Sam just looked baffled. “But...? Dean, it’s cowboy town. You were so excited— You brought spurs for your boots.”
Dean shrugged carelessly. “Yeah, well?! Cas came back from the dead again, didn’t he. Sometimes the people you know best and love the most can still do crazy things you don’t expect.” He shot a smile towards his angel, then returned his gaze to his brother. “I’mma hang out with this weirdo for a while.” He shrugged again, one hand on the door, ready to close it with Sam on the other side.
“Dean!” Sam slapped his hand on the door. “Seriously – are you sure? You’ll be missing out on basically your dream hunt.”
With a determined smile, Dean eased the door closer to the jamb. “Sure as I am you’ll be fine without us. See ya, Sammy.”
Sam stood on the doorstep again, holding all his printouts and looking confused. “See you.”
Dean let the door click shut. And he reached to pull the chain lock across, letting go of a slow, measured breath. Lifting a hand to his throat, he loosened his bolo tie, then took it off completely. He chucked it on the motel table by the window, letting it clatter down.
He returned to Castiel, tossing his suit jacket on the bed as he went. Castiel picked up the remote, changing the channel back to the dirty cowboy movie. Presumptuous, Dean thought. But he had no real objections.
“What’d we miss?” Dean asked, taking his place beside Castiel.
Castiel didn’t answer. He gazed at Dean with a content smile on his face, his eyes gleaming, soft and crinkled at the sides.
“What?” Dean pried.
Castiel poked the tip of his tongue between his lips. “You really love cowboys.”
“Yeah, and?” Dean said defensively.
“And you would rather spend time with me, than spend time dressed as a cowboy, doing cowboy things with other cowboys, in a cowboy town, on a cowboy-related hunt.”
Dean’s lashes fluttered as he averted his eyes. “Well, don’t go readin’ too far into that, pal. I got myself plenty of cowboy right here.” He glanced at Castiel first, although he’d meant to glance at the screen. Inexplicably, however... he kept his eyes on his friend. He felt all squirmy and warm inside now. He smiled.
“‘Kay, seriously, though,” Dean uttered, finally dragging his eyes to the TV. “When the hell did they skip to butt action? What happened to foreplay?”
“It did seem very abrupt,” Castiel agreed, eyes narrowing for a split second, then relaxing. “I can’t imagine that position is very comfortable. I doubt God intended those desert rocks for that particular purpose.”
“Hm,” Dean grinned, rolling his spine down the bed, lower half still sitting. “Screw being hardcore Wild West, Cas. I’d take a clean motel bed with Magic Fingers any day.”
His eyes drifted to the little metal box on the nightstand. “Hey, you got a quarter goin’ spare?”
Castiel began to pat his trenchcoat pockets. “Why?”
Dean scooted up towards the head of the bed, one hand massaging his semi-erection to make it perk back up. “You’ll see,” he promised, grinning as he caught the coin Castiel tossed him. Clink-clank! The coin settled in the Magic Fingers machine, and the bed began to shake.
Castiel startled at the movement, standing up and turning to look at the bed.
Dean laughed, flopping lazily back on the pillows. “Ahh-hah-hah-hah-y-y-y-yeahh-h-h,” he groaned, shaken by the bed’s internal mechanics.
He put his hand on his crotch and began to rub, sighing. “You keep watchin’, Cas, I just gotta... take care of somethin’...”
He knew he was practically out of his mind, doing this while Cas was in the room – but the rule wasn’t merely broken, it was forgotten entirely. Dean just did what he needed to do right now, and that was unbutton and unzip his suit pants. He couldn’t watch cowboys getting it on and not touch himself immediately. To resist was futile, regardless of circumstances or present company. Which was exactly why Sam had to leave, lest he be traumatised for life.
A smirk curled up Dean’s face as he felt the bed dip on his right: Castiel sat down.
Dean’s eyes fell shut; he slipped his hand into his underwear, stroking his fattening member. The vibration of the bed made his whole body sing, and he used the movement to his advantage, thumb strumming a rhythm against his cockhead without him even trying.
Dean felt and heard but didn’t see Castiel release his coat, throwing it to the next bed along. A rush of Castiel’s body scent gushed across Dean’s face a moment later, and he breathed in deeply, smiling, not fighting the wave of arousal that both sank and lifted inside him, crashing on every inch of his skin.
“Mmmm,” Dean groaned, fingers drifting up through his happy trail, lifting his dress shirt as he went. He adjusted his hips, boot soles pushing on the bed, and now his fingers moved comfortably as he began to jack himself at a slow pace, keeping his junk under cover.
Castiel was quiet for a while, and Dean supposed he was absorbed with what was on TV. He peeked open his eyes, expecting to see Castiel looking towards the foot of the bed.
But Cas was kneeling at Dean’s side, watching him intently. One of his hands nursed a thick bulge through his slacks.
“Whoa!” Dean sat up straight, heart leaping inside him. “Whoa-ho-ho there, cowboy! The hell do you think you’re doin’, Cas?”
“What?” Castiel asked, frowning.
Dean licked his lips twice, trying to catch his breath. “You— You’re watching me?!”
Castiel seemed confused.
Emotionally shaken, Dean stared at the ceiling. “You were meant... I didn’t think you’d—”
Damn, he couldn’t put a simple sentence together any more. His cock strained for another touch, and Dean began to stroke himself again, unable to find the words to tell Castiel not to look.
“I thought—?” Castiel started, with downturned blue eyes and the dent of a frown on his forehead. “I thought you recommended watching something ‘good’. Something I found attractive. Arousing.” He met Dean’s eyes, tilting his head.
As his lips parted, Dean fought to find some words and put them together in a way that made sense. He lost the battle. He gaped at Castiel, speechless, entirely stunned by pleasure. He hadn’t expected it to feel so intense, but Cas’ eye contact easily made him twice as excited.
But, suddenly, words arrived.
“So... wait,” Dean managed. “You think I’m... attractive? Like, in a sexy way?”
Castiel smiled as he admired Dean’s freckled face, then his throat, then his shoulders, exposed middle – and the rise in his pants where Dean kept his hand slowly shifting. Then Castiel sighed in contentment. “Yes.” He palmed his erection again, hand rounding the bulge at the top of his thigh.
Dean couldn’t help the thrilled flutters in his belly. “Huh.”
“Do you want me to stop looking?” Castiel asked, looking plainly at Dean. Dean got the feeling it would be relatively easy for Cas to pack up and put his feelings away, not plagued by a half-boner for the rest of the day. Dean could say yes and it would stop, probably without consequence.
Dean lay down, holding Castiel’s eyes, giving a shrug. “I mean...” He flashed his friend a grin. “Do me a favour, Cas? Reach behind you, grab what’s there.”
Castiel did as he was told, and faced Dean again, holding Dean’s brown cowboy hat in one hand. He looked at it, then looked at Dean.
“What, you want a diagram? Put it on.”
Slowly, Castiel lifted the hat, and placed it on his head.
Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He grasped his cock fully, moaning aloud without shame, head lolling back against a pillow. He shut his eyes, a smile dancing across his lips, heartbeat in his throat. He turned his head to look properly at Castiel, and once more, attraction and excitement lit fuses under his skin, gunpowder skittering about inside him.
“Hot,” Dean whispered. “Hngh.”
Castiel smirked. He lifted the hat in one hand, tipping it politely to Dean. “Howdy, partner.”
“Ahh?” Dean whimpered, feeling pre-come spurt onto his hand. “Hmm. Mmm. Oh God. Cas.” He was halfway delirious, eyes rolling behind his hooded lids, lips parted. He shoved his boxer-briefs down and let his cock rise up completely, his hand shifting over the head in a fast motion, fist thumping his hipbone on every downstroke. “Aa-hhaaa...”
Castiel watched, fascinated. He looked down at his own crotch – checked Dean’s face, saw him smiling – and then went for it. He unzipped his pants, pushed down the front of his boxers, and smuggled out his erection. Dean shouted, sweating in hot flashes from seemingly every pore, working his hand faster than he ever remembered working it in his life. He squirmed and trembled and panted, rolling onto his front to hump the vibrating bed.
“M’therffff,” Dean growled, frowning, head thumping the mattress as the pillow slid away. “Aaaah.”
He pressed one cheek to the bed, eyes on Castiel in his pristine white button-down, blue tie, and that cowboy hat.
Dean could’ve wept for how good this picture was. Best friend, alive again, wearing the sexiest outfit known to mankind, looking at Dean with total contentment in his eyes. No, Cas wasn’t lustful and dark-eyed, he wasn’t drooling over Dean. He was just... enjoying himself. Like they were watching cartoons, or debating the spice rating of the sauce on Dean’s burger.
For Cas, this was just... a fun thing to do together. Dean found that reassuring. It wasn’t a big deal! Dean wasn’t a freak for finding the cowboy thing hot. And it could be normal for them to find each other sexy.
Dean rolled onto his back and shivered. He took his hand off his erection, willing himself not to touch for a little while. He wet his lips, hungrily watching Castiel stroke his hand down his full length, then back up.
“Do the voice,” Dean said, reaching to pet Castiel’s knee. “Cas, do the cowboy accent.”
Castiel pondered. “What do you want me to say?”
Dean grinned, shimmying through the sheets and getting comfortable. “Uh. How’s about— You be a cowboy. You... You own some land, some fields, and a barn. And I come lookin’, poking my nose in where it don’t belong.”
“You’re trespassing.”
“Aw, hell,” Dean said bashfully, “I never meant to get noticed by you, partner. I just came by lookin’ for my horse, she ran off earlier today. Figured she might stop by your barn...”
Castiel licked his lips, settling on all fours, crawling a little bit closer alongside Dean. He got so close that Dean felt his warmth against his thigh. “There ain’t... no horse here, neighbour. But there is... hay. An awful lot of it.”
“That’s what I figured,” Dean drawled. “Maybe ol’ Bessie got tired of gallopin’ about, came and settled here for a spell. I know you’d feed her up good.”
“I believe,” Castiel said, frowning for a moment, then smiling, “this hay is primarily for rolling in.”
Dean flushed, feeling like he was glowing like a red coal. “Well, then. What say you and me take a lil’ tumble, huh?” He touched Castiel’s forearm, stroking firm, warm muscle. His fingers trailed up, to Castiel’s shirt collar, his neck underneath... then up, taking hold of Castiel’s hat. Dean lifted it, then set it back down firmly. “You, me. Right here, right now.” Dean winked. “Keep the hat on.”
Castiel bent down and kissed Dean. Straight on the lips.
“Whoa,” Dean said, blinking fast. He breathed out.
“You don’t want that?” Castiel asked.
“Oh—” Dean shook his head. “Naw, I was just surprised.” He breathed out a huff, grinning widely. He played with Castiel’s tie with one hand, and shyly raised his eyes to meet Castiel’s again. “Do it again.”
Castiel took Dean with both hands in his hair, between him and pillow, and kissed him.
“Hmm,” Dean smiled, flooding with bliss as he felt Castiel’s weight press down on top of him. Boner against his hip. A thick thigh sliding between Dean’s bowed ones. A heartbeat, tapping against Dean’s breast.
Castiel exhaled a gush of heat, closing his mouth around Dean’s. “Mm,” he purred, eyelashes stroking Dean’s cheek as he angled his head. His hat shaded Dean’s eyes from the daylight ambience in the room. “Dean.”
Dean’s stomach was swooping like he was on a rollercoaster. “Say somethin’... cowboy...”
Castiel grinned. “Yeehaw.”
Dean swore he almost came. “Shit,” he breathed. “Shit, that seriously does somethin’ wild to me, Cas. Again. Again. C’mon.” He pulled at Castiel’s back, raising his torso to hug him, and in doing so, forced Castiel down to Dean’s ear. “Whisper me something sexy.”
Castiel murmured, “Um.”
“C’mon,” Dean urged, wriggling in the bed so his cock touched Castiel’s. Pleasure stole his breath away, leaving him further wrecked, physically shaking, legs trembling. He gritted his teeth, desperate. “C’monnn.”
“I...” Castiel stalled, then summoned fresh resolve, breathing out. Firmly, he said, “No matter what road, what highway you travel down, Dean – there’s nothing... nothin’ that could keep me from coming back to you. I will always find you. And I will love you endlessly.” He pulled back, meeting Dean’s dumbfounded gaze. “So don’t you go breakin’ my heart.” He blinked, then added as a final touch, “Cowboy.”
Okay, that was not what Dean expected. He’d been ready for Castiel’s voice tip him over the edge, and now that wasn’t happening.
But instead, Dean had just about melted inside. He gazed at Castiel, unsure how to react.
Castiel smiled, and kissed Dean softly.
Dean mouthed him away. “Cas, I— I gotta,” he stammered, a shaking hand placed on Castiel’s heart. Dean frowned. “Ummm.”
Castiel bent to kiss Dean’s neck, and Dean shivered. “Wait,” he insisted. “I gotta tell you.”
Castiel lifted his head. “Tell me what?”
Dean took a breath. He licked his lips. Nothin’ special. Direct to the point, and carefree, like a cowboy. Here goes.
“I... love... you,” Dean said.
He blinked five times, wondering how it came out like that. “I meant—! I mean, like, you’re freaking awesome. And always coming back to me, that thing, that’s cool too. But see... Cas?” Dean looked Castiel in the eye, biting his lip in his nervousness. “Far as I’m concerned, partner, we travel the same damn road. Same highway. You already broke my heart a half-dozen times, but dammit, Cas, it ain’t happening again. And you know why?”
Castiel raised his eyebrows, and Dean lifted his head to kiss him sweetly. “I’ll tell ya why, Cas. Because if you ever die on me again, I know where to find you. Heaven. Hell. Purgatory. The goddamn Empty. You’ll be somewhere, and we can find each other. Either this life or the next, right? It’s only a matter of time before I’d see you again.”
“Right,” Castiel agreed. He cupped Dean’s face and stroked back his hair, a happy sparkle in his eyes. “This life or the next.”
Dean grinned, wrapping both arms around Castiel’s back, fingers scrunched in his shirt. “Now finish me off, dammit. The Magic Fingers only goes fifteen minutes.”
Castiel hummed a laugh, snuggling close. He pushed hard against Dean, surprising him. “Ah—! Oh jeez,” Dean said, laughing. “You don’t go easy, do ya?”
“No,” Castiel said, thrusting harder against Dean.
“Okay,” Dean huffed, getting used to the pressure. “Okay, we’re going there. All right. Auh. Uhf! Yeah. Yeah.”
Castiel took Dean by his thigh and held onto it, steadying them both as they drove their hips together, Dean underneath, Castiel powering against him in hard thumps.
“Oh, Jesus,” Dean breathed, eyes shut, damned by the euphoria that began to shake in his core, dizzying him to madness. “Oh!”
“Deannn,” Castiel groaned, kissing Dean’s cheek as he swept past, back and forth, rocking Dean into the bed. “H’aahh...”
Dean laughed, wrapping his free leg over Castiel’s lower back, making him press harder. “Shit, yeah. Ride me, cowboy.” He admired the hat, still sitting secure over Castiel’s mussed hair. “Uh! Cas!”
Castiel wore a bright grin, holding Dean’s gaze as he swooped and swooped over him. Their rutting hastened, their hands tightening on each other’s skin. Dean began to see random lights popping in his vision, sparkling and vague. He grunted and groaned, whispering Cas’ name on every second breath.
“Cas— Tahh... Talk... cowboy to me,” Dean murmured, eyes unfocused, breaths uneven. “I— I’m almost...”
One word said right, and he’d lose all control. He wanted to let go now – every muscle was aching, his skin was burning; he needed release. Dean couldn’t say it but he knew Cas understood.
Castiel grinned, kissing Dean’s forehead, chin, cheek, nosing at his hairline. “Yippee-ki... yay?” he said.
“The last bit,” Dean panted, begging. “Say the last bit.”
Bolder, deeper, taking Dean’s gaze and keeping it, Castiel said, “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.”
Dean burst out laughing, and all of a sudden he was coming hard, laughing and panting, hands weak on Castiel’s neck, little whimpers escaping him as he breathed. “Oh my God,” he whispered, “Oh my God...” He whined, eyebrows up, grinning helplessly as he smushed kisses blindly to Castiel’s cheek. “Mmh. Mhh. Cas.”
All at once, the Magic Fingers machine went clunk, the bed stopped shaking – and Castiel froze up for a moment, gasping aloud, mouth wide open. He looked at Dean in pure shock, stunned—
Dean felt the heat spreading on his skin as Castiel came.
Dean and Castiel looked down at the same time, foreheads bumping.
“Ow,” Dean complained, rubbing his head. Castiel just kissed Dean’s temple, hot breath pouring out in gusts. Dean’s eyes darted to the Magic Finger machine, disgruntled. “Compliment about my sex stamina aside, that was not fifteen minutes.”
Dean finally looked between their bodies, seeing the mess they’d made. Funny... He’d admired plenty of dicks in his time, but there was something especially thrilling about seeing his own next to his best friend’s, all pink and thick and wet at the tips, having finished having a good time together.
Dean smiled as Castiel kissed his jaw, right by his ear. He swallowed. His throat was a little sore from all the gasping and moaning, but otherwise he felt utterly, unbelievably ecstatic. He was buzzing, both in his body and mind. Euphoric seemed like too tame a word.
He just did it with Cas.
Like... seriously.
C A S.
Holy shit.
Castiel nuzzled Dean’s jaw, then lay down on top of him. The cowboy hat fell right off.
Dean wrapped his arms around his friend, smiling as dopily as he pleased.
With an intrepid hand, Dean moved to lift the cowboy hat. He was about to replace it on Castiel’s head, but instead moved it to settle behind Castiel, out of the way. Dean then ran his empty hand through Castiel’s hair, smiling when Castiel closed his tired eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the caress.
“Think you’d wanna do that again, sometime?” Dean asked.
Castiel smiled. “That depends. Do I get to choose the theme, next time?”
“Sure.” Dean cocked up one eyebrow. “What you got in mind?”
Castiel lowered his eyes shyly.
“Hey,” Dean said, patting Castiel’s shoulder. When Castiel looked at him, Dean kissed his nose, just softly. “Tell me.”
Castiel still seemed unsure, but he took a breath anyway, and when he spoke he did so quietly, one hand on Dean’s heart. “I know you don’t like when I do it. But... I want to watch you sleep. Please. I enjoy it a great deal.”
Forcing himself not to hesitate, Dean nodded. “‘Kay. Y’know. Whatever. If that’s what gets you off.”
“Oh, no,” Castiel shook his head. “It doesn’t arouse me. I just enjoy watching you.”
Dean’s brow wrinkled. “Why?”
Shifting a shoulder, Castiel admitted, “You’re... cute. You look entirely lovable, and the long stretches of silence give me time to... I suppose, let the feelings overwhelm me, without your gruff interruptions. It’s enjoyable so long as I don’t wake you.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah. Then you got an angry bear on your hands.”
“Luckily for you I love angry bears too,” Castiel said, with a happy crinkling of skin beside his eyes, and a wrinkle on the bridge of his nose. “Very much.”
Pleased, Dean settled into the dip in the bed, resting with his cheek on Castiel’s forehead.
“Guess we better get dressed again,” Dean murmured, eyeing his discarded suit, left in puddles of black cloth around the room. “Hunt to get to, and all’a that.”
“Soon,” Castiel said, stroking Dean’s chest through his half-undone shirt, while his eyes rested closed. “In a minute, not now.”
Dean smirked. “You know, we oughta get you your own cowboy hat, Cas. How’s that sound? Maybe a pair of boots. Assless chaps! So you can dress up whenever.”
Castiel lifted his head, resting the point of his chin on Dean’s chest, and Dean peered down so their eyes met. Castiel seemed amused. “You want me to wear a full costume?”
After a moment to consider that, Dean shook his head. “Not a costume, exactly. And not a uniform, either. It’s just somethin’ nice to wear. ‘Cause... listen,” Dean stroked Castiel’s hair back. “We might not have cattle, or a ranch, or a shoot-out to get to at high noon – at least, not before we’ve eaten. C’mon. But we go wherever the wind takes us, don’t we? And we ride side-by-side on the best black steed that ever graced an American highway. We go around with guns in our belts and we take what we need from people who don’t miss it, ain’t nothin’ more cowboy than that.
“We can wear the hat and boots proudly, Cas. And you ‘n me and Sam and Jack can go riding off into the sunset together, like in all the good movies. And someday we’ll go out, guns a-blazin’. But it’s like you said.” Dean gave Castiel a slow kiss, breaking apart with a warm, smiling sigh. “We find each other. Some old broke-ass town, or somewhere up in high Heaven. Only a matter of time.”
He looked at Castiel inquisitively. “So tell me. Boots. Hat. Whole shebang. Yes or no?”
Castiel chuckled. “Of course, yes.”
Dean smirked. “Awesome.”
And in exchange, without a word of prompting, Dean gave Castiel what he craved too. After several minutes of cuddling, he slowly fell asleep. His breaths eased, his fingers went slack; his smile disappeared, and all that showed in his face was a look of complete peace.
Castiel watched, with all his love brimming his heart.
When Dean had relaxed, snoring softly – like a small bear, but a bear nonetheless – Castiel turned, retrieving the cowboy hat. He placed it on his head, and kept it there, lying comfortably next to Dean.
{the end}