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Sam is a dead man. He’d better run, hide, change his name, move to another continent or some shit, and even that’s not gonna be enough, because there’s nowhere he can go that Dean can’t track. And when he finds him? Ohh, he’s gonna kill him.
“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Sam’d said. “Practically a milk run, Dean.”
And Dean, stupidly, had believed him.
Well it wasn’t, and it hadn’t been, and now Dean’s out here in the backwoods of Vermont, stuck in a camp full of hippies that think he and Cas are married.
It’d been Sam’s plan all along, Dean can see that now.
“Seems like the easiest cover would be to go in posing as a couple.” Dean’s conniving brother had casually dropped over breakfast, two days prior.
He’d just stared at Sam, not remotely following. Hadn’t they just been talking about how to infiltrate the peace, love, and abduction camp that had a string of unfortunately unexplained disappearances?
“Uh, as a couple of what?”
Sam had just rolled his eyes, pulling one of those completely fucking annoying you-know-what-I’m-talking-about-Dean faces, the ones he made whenever Dean had, in fact, zero goddamned clue what his brother was talking about.
“A couple, Dean. Like a romantic couple? You know, people who are dating, who are in love? Since this is a getaway for couples.”
Honestly, he’d thought his brother had finally cracked, had spent one too many nights on the internet or something, trolling those message boards where fans of Chuck’s books wrote fantasies about him and Sam—well, about the characters of Dean and Sam… or Dean and… yeah, never mind.
“Ri-ight, okay Sam. I mean, I’m all for lying to get the job done, but I’m not sure I wanna pretend you and I’re a romantic couple, y’know? Kinda weird, man.”
Dean remembers a look crossing Sam’s face at that moment that really should’ve clued him into the lengths his brother was willing to go to to enact his evil scheme. It was a warring look of frustration and astonishment, and all of it focused with laser-precision at Dean.
“No, not—not us, Dean. Not you and I. Cas is—”
Sam’s exasperation had been nearly palpable, but Dean still hadn’t figured out why at that point, and boy, is he kicking himself now.
He also hadn’t worked out why Sam was so insistent on including Cas, but that’s because he’d still been underestimating the depths of his brother’s cruelty.
“—not coming, Sam. I told you, he’s not ready.”
Sam had opened his mouth to argue, but a voice from the doorway beat him to it.
“Actually, I am ready, and since I’m older than you both by more years than your human brains have the ability to comprehend, I’ve decided I‘m coming.”
Dean had spun around in his chair to find Cas standing just inside the Bunker kitchen, one hand on his hip, wearing an irritatingly sassy expression on his face.
And Dean had really tried to go easy on him, honestly.
“Cas, look. I get it. You’re old, older than dirt, older than time, yadda yadda yadda. But you’ve only been human for a few months, and so that makes me older. Or wiser, I dunno. Whatever, just—trust me on this, okay?”
‘Cause Dean really does get it. Being sidelined sucks in general, he can only imagine how much worse it feels when you’re used to being a multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent and now you’re just a lowly human—it’s gotta feel like a major downgrade, but why can’t Cas ever see that Dean’s just looking out for him?
Cas’s face had softened into something Dean’s having trouble looking at even in his memories, so he focuses instead on Cas’s next words, the bastard.
“I appreciate your concern, Dean, I really do, and I understand that your love language is a suffocating-level of overprotectiveness, but you don’t get to make these choices for me. Please try to respect that.”
Dean had gaped at him, unsure which part of his statement to take offense to first.
Meanwhile, Sam had sat there across from Dean, doing an absolutely shit job of holding back his amusement, so Dean had decided to just ignore them both in favor of finishing his coffee.
That was his first mistake. They might not’ve ended up in this absurd situation if he’d just fought a bit harder. But no, Cas had to just keep being so fucking stubborn.
He’d sat down next to Dean with an annoyingly smug look on his face, as though he’d won something just there. Disregarding Dean completely, Cas fixed his attention on Sam, and asked about the case.
Sam, at least, had the sense to look somewhat guilty before he gave Cas the rundown—a weekend retreat company in Vermont that catered to couples had been dealing with a string of missing persons cases, and the only common denominator amongst them was that all the men who’d gone missing were gay. Local authorities had been coming at it from a hate crime perspective, which Dean would’ve agreed with at first glance, but then Sam’d found an eye-witness account from the partner of one of the abducted men, and well, it definitely had some less-than-natural red flags.
“So as I was trying to say to Dean, I think you two should pose as a couple on the next trip, see what we can find out.”
Here, Dean sees another instance where he should’ve protested more, but inexplicably, he didn’t.
Nearly choking on his sip of coffee, he’d sniped at Sam.
“Why’s it gotta be me and Cas, huh? Why not you and Cas?”
Sam had just stared at him for far too long, like he was trying to use some kind of mind control on Dean, before finally giving a—craptastic—answer.
“It’ll be more believable with you two, trust me.”
Yeah, no. Seriously, what was Dean thinking, trusting Sam on the case logistics? He never comes up with the good plans, those are always on Dean.
Cas had turned to them both, and Dean recalls feeling a moment of relief—surely Cas would have something to say that would kill Sam’s ridiculous plan before it ever got off the ground.
He was about to be sorely mistaken.
”That’s fine with me, I have no problem acting out a role for the job.”
So there it is, the reason why Dean is now facing this insurmountable obstacle. He can’t figure out a way around it, and he doesn’t know how exactly he’s going to go on.
Just then, Cas walks in the cabin behind him, duffel over his shoulder.
”Honestly, Dean. It’s just a bed, it won’t bite.”
Dean jumps at his voice, looking up at Cas as he opens a dresser and starts to unpack his clothing.
“You don’t know that,” Dean mutters, sighing as he looks at the singular king-sized bed in front of him, confident that this is going to end poorly, one way or another.
*
Even with driving in shifts, it’d still eaten up the greater part of two days to road trip from Kansas to Vermont. Once they’d arrived, they’d dropped Sam downtown to find a motel so he could scope things out with the local law enforcement, and then Dean and Cas had booked it to the woods, getting to their weekend getaway just a little late.
Not that that’d been a problem, at least not according to Camp Counselor Kelly.
“We’re just so happy you guys made it! We’ve got you all set up in our most romantic cabin, I can’t wait to show you!”
The woman at the registration desk—actually named Margot—had practically crowed at them, arms full of beaded bracelets that’d clacked together when she’d clapped her hands in excitement.
It’d taken her a few minutes to find their reservation, and Dean had let his eyes wander around the interior of the main ‘community cabin’—“where we do our group activities and sessions, of course!”—while she’d worked.
The building is a one big open space, kitchen off to one side with several long dining tables, a fireplace with lots of small couches around it—all sized for two, Dean had noted—with several smaller rooms and private nooks leading branching off from the main area.
The reality of what he’d committed himself to was just starting to sink in for Dean but before he’d been able to voice a single thought about it, shed announced that their check-in was complete and whisked them out the door, her sensible, wide-strapped sandals crunching along the gravel path outside the building.
Leading them away from the community cabin and down a path towards the lake, she’d rattled on enthusiastically about all the things lined up for the week—”yoga, hikes, kayaking, talk exercise, intimacy stretches…”—Dean had been doing his best to tune her out, but that last one caught his attention with an unpleasant jolt.
What the hell are intimacy stretches?
Before he’d had a second to decide if he’d even wanted to know, they’d stopped at what appeared to be the most secluded cabin in the arrangement, spitting distance from the water.
“Thank you, Margot, this is perfect. Right, sweetheart?” Cas’s voice had been sticky sweet when it met Dean’s ears and he’d nearly jumped when he’d felt a hand slide into his back pocket and squeeze his ass.
Trying not to blow their cover before they’d even gotten started, Dean had cleared his throat and pasted on a smile. “Yeah, uh, yes, wow, this really is so… solitary—“ he’d glanced around, quickly taking in the eye lines of the other cabins and realizing that none of the access points to this particular building seemed to be visible from any of the nearby ones. “I mean, it’s so quiet and peaceful. We love it!”
He’d put an arm around Cas and squeezed his shoulder back, grinning and hoping she couldn’t see through him already.
“Awesome-possum! Okay, I’ll leave you two to get settled in and don’t forget, evening group starts at six!”
With a cheerful wave, she’d headed back down the path, her sandals sounding her departure.
*
Evening group turns out to be a pre-dinner feels-fest, where they all declare their personal and couples intentions for the trip.
All Dean hears as they go around the circle is a buncha woo woo crap.
Cas, though? He manages to shock the shit outta Dean.
“Personally, I’d like to spend some time working on my yoga practice and really see if I can get deeper into my chakras. And as a couple, well, it would be wonderful if Dean and I were able to connect more profoundly, on every level—emotionally, spiritually, sexually. Things are good now, but I just know they could be great.”
All eyes turn to Dean once Cas finishes speaking, and he’s not sure how any of them expect him to form full sentences after that.
*
It’s late when they finally escape the community cabin and head back towards the lake. Group session had turned into dinner which turned into post-dinner breakout groups, which were—according to the brochure Cas had been reading to Dean for the last hour—“a time for them to meet their neighbors and get to know what ‘normal’ looks like for other couples”. Dean’s not sure a single one of these other couples comes close to any definition of normal, not if they’ve willingly signed up for a weekend of this shit.
“I liked how Silas described the purpose of the breakout groups tonight.” Cas states as he walks past Dean and into the bedroom.
Having been on the road for close to three-quarters of the day and then subjected to… whatever that was at dinner—he’s not sure which was worse, the rabbit food or the people constantly trying to share their feelings—Dean’s running on empty as far as brainpower goes, and his response shows it.
“Huh?”
Halfway to the bathroom, Cas turns back to him. “The session leader tonight, remember? He said it was a way for us to ‘view love through another lens,’ and I just thought that was a nice way to phrase it.
Dean rolls that thought around in his head, watching Cas as he puts paste on his toothbrush, and finds he has no words to describe the feelings today has put inside him. Deciding he’s really had more than enough of feelings for the next year, he defaults to snarky.
“You know we’re just undercover, right? We’re just playing a part but we don’t gotta buy into it all.”
Cas looks up at him, toothbrush halfway to his mouth, brow raised in a face that plainly says, are-you-fucking-kidding-me? “Do I know we’re not actually in a relationship, here on a retreat vacation? Is that what you’re asking me, Dean?”
Unexpectedly flustered by Cas’s response, Dean turns to his duffel under the pretense of looking for his pajamas, muttering, “I hope I don’t have to ask that, Cas.”
There’s no response, just the swish of Cas rinsing his mouth and the sound of running water in the attached bathroom.
Moving closer to the bed, Dean grabs a pillow and a throw blanket from where it’s folded neatly over one corner of the mattress.
“You can take the bed, I’ll just sleep in the recliner tonight.” Dean fiddles with the tassel on the blanket, knowing if he makes eye contact with Cas, it’s gonna end in some weird push-pull discussion.
He’s probably just imagining things, but on their walk back to the cabin just now, Dean got the distinct impression that Cas was a little miffed at him for not having better answers in the session tonight. He just wishes he knew why it mattered.
“That’s unnecessary.”
Well, apparently we’re gonna do this anyway.
Dean sucks on his bottom lip for a moment, unsure if he’s got enough left in the tank for sassy Castiel.
Throwing caution to the window, he asks, “And why’s that, Cas?”
Dean looks up as he speaks and just barely manages to not squeak at the sight in front of him. Cas is in nothing but his boxers, folding down the blankets and getting into bed and Dean has to forcibly stop himself from averting his eyes.
Because that’d be weird, right?
Cas is answering him, Dean realizes, and ooh, yeah he is definitely annoyed about something. “Because, as you can see, Dean, this is a very large bed and there’s more than enough room for us to both sleep comfortably.” Cas settles back against the pillow and spreads his arms, gesturing at the unoccupied space.
Dean shakes his head. “Yeah, but—“
Cas cuts him off with a pointed look. “There are also lots of very large windows and no curtains, and anyone who walks by would be able to see you sleeping on the chair and not in bed with me, so… what do you think that would do for our cover?”
Feeling like he’s somehow paying penance for a crime he’s not sure he committed, Dean decides it’s not worth arguing. Instead, he strips off his jeans and socks and climbs into the bed, making sure to stay as close to his side as possible.
Reaching up to shut off the light, Cas stares at Dean for a moment, expression inscrutable.
“Good night, Dean.”
Dean rolls over, body wound tight with a feeling he can’t place, and mumbles a response.
Lying there in the dark, he’s starting to wonder if he’s gotten in way over his head here, and for once he’s not referring to the hunt.
*
The next day throws them right into the thick of things, and to say Dean’s feeling a bit off about it all would be an understatement. Cas has really latched onto this whole peace, love, and feelings thing, and as a result, Dean keeps finding himself in increasingly intimate and mildly awkward situations with his best friend.
Take this afternoon, for example.
Not having forgotten that they’re here on a job—unlike some people—Dean spent his morning talking to the staff and trying to figure out who or what’s been abducting a seemingly random string of gay men, but he came up pretty much empty.
He feels pretty confident that it isn’t any kind of hate crime thing though, because unlike he’d initially pictured when Sam described the retreat to him, Dean’s realizing there are a lot more gay couples here than straight. He forgets sometimes that Kansas is hardly representative of the attitudes of the whole nation—not that Vermont is either, really, they’re both on pretty opposite ends of nearly every spectrum.
The only thing he has determined is that all the missing men were staying in the same cabin as he and Cas are currently in, so they’ve got not having to commit a B&E going for them, at least.
Dean’d wanted to head back to their room right after lunch to turn it upside down—Orla, the kitchen manager, had divulged that info to him as she scooped him a very large helping of chickpea salad—but Cas informed him they had a full afternoon scheduled, and “wouldn’t it be best to talk to as many of the staff as we can, and then search the room at night when everyone’s asleep?”
Unfortunately, Dean couldn’t really find a hole to poke in that logic, so he let himself be dragged through an endless and exhausting series of exercises, working on things like “active listening”, “growing emotional muscle”, and this extended eye-contact assignment that all the other couples ended up giggling about, commenting how it felt like a really intense staring contest, but Dean couldn’t pinpoint why it didn’t feel weird with Cas.
*
There’s a solid wall of heat curved against his body, and Dean stretches just slightly, hips pressing forward. His mind’s drifting at that warm, pleasant edge of sleep, and he ruts forward unconsciously, the light friction teasing his morning wood to full hardness easily.
He groans, wishing he could stay in this hazy, delicious dream for a month or two, when suddenly the warmth against him shifts, presses back against him, and fucking moans.
Dean’s eyes snap open, horror coursing through him at the realization of what’s happening—though it does nothing to stem his arousal, unfortunately.
Jerking away from Cas, Dean watches him roll over, his body angled towards Dean, but Dean’s not playing that game. He’s stopped short of throwing an arm over his face, like somehow not making eye contact will negate the fact that he was rubbing all up over his best friend’s ass just now, but he’s got a raging fucking boner barely concealed under the blankets that says otherwise.
“Dean.” Cas already sounds smug, like he’s about to impart some sass, or wisdom, or sassy wisdom, and Jesus fuck, can Dean get a fucking minute? He’s barely awake, he hasn’t had any coffee yet, and despite how goddamned embarrassed he is, his dick is still standing tall, demanding acknowledgement.
“Really, Dean,” And ugh, the fucking eyeroll is audible. “It’s more than fine. For one, it’s a normal physiological occurrence, and two, honestly, it could be considered going method for our undercover work, which I’ve read is a highly respected process in the acting profession.”
Dean knows Cas is just trying to get a rise out of him at this, because there’s no way he’s actually suggesting they continue this together… right? Unable to help himself, Dean shifts his eyes from where he’s glued them to the ceiling and boggles at Cas.
Neither of them speak for a minute.
With a curt nod, Cas pats the mattress once and sits up. “Well, since that idea obviously makes you uncomfortable, I’ll give you some privacy to take care of it while I shower.
Cas moves the blankets, throwing them off his body as he stands and stretches, his own boxers tented enough to be obvious, and Dean can’t quite help but stare. He’s not altogether sure what’s going on this morning, but he’s experiencing some pretty confusing and arousing mixed signals.
With a wink, Cas grabs his towel and heads into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click.
Dean flops onto his back, mind racing. Is he really gonna do this? Jerk himself off while Cas is in the shower, knowing what Dean is doing out here? And then a thought occurs—wait, is Cas jerking off in the shower??
That idea sends a wave of heat through his body so intense it makes him gasp, his dick somehow even harder, feeling more aroused than he’s been in ages, and oh, he’s so far beyond just a normal physiological response, Dean, now.
Dean hears the water turn on in the shower and he shoves a hand into his boxers without thinking, biting his lip to stifle his groan.
Fuck, he’s so goddamned turned on right now and he can’t—won’t—think about why, he can’t deal with any of that right now.
All he can do is pump his aching cock, spreading pre-come down his length and fucking into his fist, hips pistoning upwards like there’s still a hot, hard body pressed against him.
His brain flashes images of warmth, of the sleepy, cozy feeling he was just wrapped up in, of the sight of Cas half-naked, still aroused even after Dean rubbed his dick all over his ass. Or wait, was it because Dean rubbed himself all over—
“—fuck—!“ Dean comes embarrassingly hard, knuckles stuffed in his mouth to keep from moaning aloud, boxers soaked through with the evidence of taking Cas’s advice.
Standing to strip off his soiled clothing and stuffing it all in the bottom of his duffel, Dean wraps a towel around his waist just as he hears the shower turn off.
Cas exits the bathroom a minute later, looking especially relaxed and a little pink in the face, and Dean just—he just can’t.
Shoving past Cas to get into the en suite, Dean shuts the door behind him and drops his head to his chest, sucking in a deep breath.
His heart is still racing with embarrassment and the waning high of orgasm as he flips the shower on, turning the water to scalding. Getting under the spray and starting to aggressively scrub himself off, Dean recalls the conversation he’d had with Sam right before they’d brought him to the motel—they’d stopped for coffees and Cas had gone inside to order.
“Yeah, but Sam,” Dean had hissed at his brother. “I’m not—I’m not gay, so this isn’t going to work.”
Sam had just rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Dean? We’re not Feds in real life either, but we do just fine playing the part. What’s the difference?”
He hadn’t been able to come up with a good explanation then, but thinking back over the last twenty minutes, Dean can’t help but feel a little like someone’s pulling one over on him here.
*
Much as Dean would like to pretend this morning never happened, every moment of the day seems to be conspiring against him ever forgetting it.
Under the guise of speaking with all the staff members, Cas had signed them up for each of the different activities available, which Dean would’ve been fine with if they were actually using the time to talk to the instructors, but instead it feels like they’re doing a lot more participating than he expected, certainly much more than he and Sam do when they’re undercover.
He’s starting to wonder if Cas has taken his own comment about method acting to heart, because if not, well… Dean’s not really sure what to call what’s going on between them.
They tossed their cabin last night, looking for any sign of the supernatural but found absolutely nothing, and Dean was a little frustrated at being dumped back at ground zero, doubly so because their schedule is so full of crap today that not only can he not find a second to pull any of the staff members aside to question, he also can’t escape the presence of his ‘loving husband’, and he’s mildly concerned they’re not gonna win this one.
Dean reaches for his phone at lunch time to text Sam in the desperate hope that he’s solved the case and they can go home when he realizes with annoyance he must’ve left it in their cabin. Makes sense, really, since his brain felt like the scrambled eggs he wished they were serving in the vegan cafe when they stumbled out the door together for breakfast.
Figuring Sam will call Cas if there’s any update, he doesn’t bother going back to get it, resigning himself to an afternoon of couples yoga and meditation.
Unsurprisingly, questioning the instructors today didn’t shake anything loose, and Dean’s kinda at a loss. Cas is out of ideas as well, so when the evening’s breakout groups migrate to the indoor fireplace to relax, they decide to join them, even venturing to try some craft beers from a local brewery—not really Dean’s speed, but not half-bad.
The other couples—the couples, Dean corrects himself—aren’t half-bad either, now that they’ve gotten to know some of them. There’s Angie and Drake from upstate New York, dating five years and here to jolt a little life back into their relationship via improved communication; Ned and Finn, a very visibly newly-engaged pair, at the retreat to quote, “go into their union with their eyes and hearts wide open”; Nora and Emmett, married more decades than Dean’s been alive and annual pass holders at Camp Talkalottafeels; and a couple named Thelma and Louise, honest to god, who kindly humor Dean’s endless references and jokes, even if he suspects they’re too young to really have a clue.
This evening’s group session was about relationship history, so Dean’s learned much of this information over the past few hours. Settling himself in for however long Cas wants to sit here and talk—because he’s well-aware Cas is running the show here—Dean swallows a long sip of his beer, enjoying the warmth in his belly from the alcohol and the heat on his face from the crackling fire.
“So Dean, you’ve been awfully quiet these last few days.” Drake’s voice cuts through the soft chatter and all eyes turn to look at him and then at Dean, including Cas.
Surprised at the sudden attention, Dean lets out a quiet laugh and shakes his head, taking another pull of his drink to stall having to respond. “Yeah, well, not really much of a talker, I guess.” He shrugs.
“Seems sort of odd to come to retreat like this and not be ‘much of a talker’, don’t you think?” Drake’s got a mean look in his eye and Dean sighs, ‘cause he can already tell this guy isn’t gonna drop it.
Truthfully, Dean had his eye on Drake from the jump, just based on his attitude towards him and Cas, but Sam had checked him out and found nothing, and Dean was forced to admit he didn’t see Drake behaving poorly towards the other same-sex couples, so maybe it was just them he took issue with?
Or, as Dean’s now realizing, maybe it’s just him.
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s why I’m here then, you think of that?” He drains his beer and puts the empty on the table beside him, leaning back into the oversized chair next to Cas.
Drake shakes his head. “Yeah, I did, but I don’t think that’s it.”
Dean sits forward again, eyes trained on the other man, and he sees Cas shifting next to him—it’s a tiny movement, but he catches it anyway. It feels like a warning, or maybe a request. Either way, Dean’s not into whatever this guy is putting down, whether it’s homophobia or just plain dickishness.
“Well then, since you seem to know more about me than I do, tell me what you think it is.”
Cas puts a hand on his knee at that, and when he flicks his eyes towards him, Dean can see the concern written there. He knows Cas agreed with his earlier sentiments about this guy, so he can only assume the worry is about blowing their cover.
Well, he’s not gonna do that, but he’s not rolling over for this asshole either.
“I don’t think you guys are really even together.” Drake drops that into the middle of the group and for a moment, no one touches it.
Before anyone even can, Angie turns to him, her eyes flashing, “Drake, stop it.”
“No come on, Ang, I wanna see what he’s got to say for himself. All week we’ve heard Castiel sing this guy's praises and we’ve gotten nothing out of Dean in return except some one line answers that sound like he googled them before class, and a lot of weird staring.”
Dean lets out an unamused laugh at this, rubbing his hand over his mouth and looking around to see Ned and Finn making matching sympathetic faces in his direction. Nora and Emmett are staring at Drake, expressions filled with a mixture of sadness and anger, and Louise is tucked up against Thelma, a whispered conversation going on between them.
“Drake, really, you need to stop it. You’re being rude.” Angie’s voice is incensed, her attempted whisper echoing loudly off the high ceilings.
Drake shakes her off, barreling forward as he addresses the rest of the group. “You guys don’t think it’s odd? We’re at a couple’s retreat and no one’s seen them kiss, not even once.”
Cas chimes in at this. “Dean’s just not really into public displays, that’s all.” There’s an underlying sadness in his voice Dean’s unsure he’s ever heard before, and wow, Dean hates that it’s even possibly there because of him, hates it more than he wants to clock that Drake guy, which is saying something.
Before he can question what he’s doing, Dean sits up, turning Cas towards him with a palm on his jaw.
“Dean, you really don’t have to—”
Shaking his head, Dean presses his thumb to Cas’s lips, effectively shutting him up. “Believe me, sweetheart, I’m not doing this for him.”
He can feel the jump in Cas’s throat at those words, can feel his heartbeat thumping wildly under his skin, and with a last glance at those deep blue eyes, Dean leans in.
Their lips meet softly, barely enough contact to be called a kiss at all, and Dean can already feel Cas pulling away.
So he stops him. Shifting his hand around to cup Cas’s neck, he pulls him closer, sliding their lips together again. He catches and releases Cas’s mouth a few times, trying to ignore the heat blooming under his own skin at the soft sounds Cas is letting out. Chasing them, losing all sense of where they are or who’s around them, Dean teases at the seam of Cas’s lips with his tongue, smiling as he’s rewarded with a soft moan.
“Alright boys, point made.” Dean startles back to reality when Emmett claps him on the back and he looks up at Cas to find him looking as disheveled as he currently feels, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-bitten.
There’s a unanimous shuffle of people getting to their feet around them, muttering things like, “it’s getting late,” and “we’ve got an early morning yoga class,” so Dean and Cas join them, nodding their goodbyes to the others and slipping quietly down the gravel path.
*
The air between them is a little tense when they re-enter the cabin, but not quite awkward, so of course Dean does the sensible thing and dives back into the topic they’re both not addressing.
“Man, that guy was a dick, huh?”
Cas hums, slipping off his shoes and jacket, clearly thinking. “His methods lacked finesse, yes, but I can’t deny that he got results. Though perhaps not the results he expected.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Dean, really?” Cas sighs. “Even if he wasn’t seeing what I see, Drake knew he wasn’t seeing the whole story when he looked at us… you know, sometimes it seems like…” He shakes his head softly, moving towards the bedroom.
Clearing his throat, Dean presses him. “It seems like what, Cas?”
Castiel stops and turns to face Dean, his eyes shining with a little more honesty than Dean’s used to seeing. How is he just now realizing how much of a mask Cas normally wears around him?
“It seems like everyone else can see it, except you.” Cas lets out a soft sigh.
It’s not like he doesn’t know what Cas means, of course. And after everything this week, Dean knows this is horrifically selfish of him, but he desperately needs Cas to lead right now. Dean swallows hard, his voice practically a whisper as he asks, “What am I not seeing, Cas?”
Cas steps closer. “Me, Dean.”
There’s no one around now, there’s no audience for their act, and Dean knows Cas is being more honest with him than he ever has before. He thinks maybe Cas has been being honest with him about all this since longer than Dean can even recall.
He closes his eyes for a beat, lets himself breathe, and when he opens them, Cas is still right there. He’s watching Dean, clearly waiting for something.
So Dean gives it to him. With the slightest nod of his head, Dean pulls Cas to him and seals their mouths together again, barely stifling a whine as Cas snakes a hand up into his hair and holds Dean’s head in place as he tongues into his mouth.
And now that Dean is giving? Hoo, boy, Cas is taking. His hands are roaming, touching every place on Dean he can reach, down his shoulders, up his arms, skimming over his ass, tugging their hips together.
This… whatever this is between them has existed at a low simmer for so long, Dean could almost ignore it. But between their—shared?—jerk off session the other morning, their public kiss this evening, and all the emotional honesty he’s been subjected to this week, Dean feels like his body’s been heated to boiling point. All these little moments of touch and affection between them have set him alight in ways he hadn’t expected, could never have imagined.
The kiss was just the catalyst, and fuck, now that they’re here—Dean wants it all.
Grabbing Cas under the thighs, he lifts him up and walks them the few feet to the bed, smiling against Cas’s mouth when he lets out a surprised gasp. Depositing Cas on the pillowy surface, Dean crawls overtop and resumes their kiss, taking his own turn to taste and explore Cas’s mouth.
Cas hooks a leg around his and pulls him flush, takes Dean’s weight on himself with a contented hum and kisses Dean back, thrusting his hips upward, both of them groaning at the friction.
Sliding their palms together, Dean presses their hands into the bed just above Cas’s head, sitting back on Cas’s lap just enough to provide a bit more direct attention to their growing erections. He breaks their kiss to look at Cas, wanting to see the arousal on his face.
And fuck yeah, it’s there. It’s painted all over Cas, flushed cheeks, blown pupils, his lips parted on a soft breath.
“God you’re gorgeous.” Dean mumbles, sliding his lips over Cas’s as he grinds his hips downwards.
Cas lets out a noise Dean’s never heard from him and fuck, it just spurs Dean on. He leans into his movements, rubbing their cocks together through their pants, feeling his arousal spike higher with every hitch of Cas’s breath.
Their faces are hovering about an inch apart, and he’s still got Cas held against the covers, pinned down by his hips and hands. Cas tries to angle closer for a kiss but Dean just grins at him, ghosting his lips over Cas’s mouth but not quite touching.
With a growl and a display of strength that’s as unsurprising as it is fucking thrilling, Cas rolls them over and kisses Dean senseless, pressing his wrists to the bed with one hand, the other slipping between them to fight with buckles and buttons.
Releasing Dean after a moment for the sake of expediency, they scramble to get their clothes off, Cas stretching back out beside Dean on the bed, pressing their now-naked bodies together.
“Dean.” Cas licks into his mouth, hips tipping forward to meet Dean’s in a needy thrust. Their cocks brush against each other, heavy and hard, and it’s Dean groaning this time, mouth open and panting against Cas’s at the hot velvet slide.
Reaching down, Dean takes them in hand, fingers splayed around their lengths for a few strokes, spreading their slick precome around and easing the skin-on-skin friction.
From there, it’s a race to the finish and Dean knows without a shadow of a doubt, he’s gonna lose.
Or win. Guess that all depends on point of view.
He’s already so fucking keyed up from their earlier kiss and from finally letting himself acknowledge how badly he wants this, that fuck, actually doing it? He’s about to blow and god, he can’t be bothered to care if it’s too quick.
“Cas, oh fuck, I’m gonna—”
Sliding his teeth over Dean’s bottom lip in response, Cas encourages Dean towards release with his hands and his mouth and the roll of his hips, moaning along with Dean as he reaches his peak.
“Dean, yes—oh, please yes, I need—ahh—”
Orgasm rushes through Dean with a surge of toe-curling pleasure and he gasps as he comes, spilling hot and fast onto his fingers, dripping all over Cas.
He strokes them through it together, keeping up a decent rhythm for Cas ‘til it gets to be too sensitive. Releasing himself, Dean wraps his hand around Cas’s cock again, using his own spend as extra lubrication.
Cas keens at the feeling, fingers grabbing at Dean’s hip to leverage his thrusts better. Looking down between them, Dean watches as Cas fucks into his fist, flushed cockhead sliding through Dean’s mess.
“Mhm, that’s it baby, come on, want you to come for me.” Dean murmurs, kissing Cas’s lips, his jaw, any bit of skin he can reach, watching in awe as Cas goes still, climax making his body jerk and rock into Dean’s grip, whimpering as Dean keeps pace for him, stroking him through the last trembling spurts of his orgasm.
Releasing Cas and dragging his thumb softly over his slit, Dean smiles when Cas twitches and groans at the overstimulation.
They trade soft kisses, both of them breathing heavily and Dean slides his clean hand up to tangle in Cas’s hair, letting the soft strands slip between his fingertips.
When he pulls away, he finds Cas just watching him, smile on his lips, his eyes so full of so much, and it grabs ahold of Dean, this wild, reckless, joyful burst of feelings.
“Hey.” Dean bumps their foreheads together gently.
Cas kisses him in response. “Hey.”
Holding up his sticky hand in explanation, Dean rolls off the bed and heads to the bathroom to rinse off. He wipes himself down and grabs a clean cloth for Cas as well, handing it to him with a kiss as he passes by the bed.
“Just gonna grab a water, you want one?”
“Please.” Cas nods, watching Dean walk away with a smile on his lips.
Rounding the partition wall that separates the room from the kitchen area, Dean grabs two bottles of water from the mini fridge and heads back, cracking one open and drinking deeply.
He’s walked about ten feet away from Cas, is gone for about thirty seconds, but when he steps back into the bedroom space, it’s empty.
A quick glance tells him that the bathroom is unoccupied, and just when Dean thinks he’s hallucinating, he notices the back slider door is ajar, just about an inch.
Tearing the door open, Dean hears a muffled shout and splashing, but it’s too dark to make out anything that’s happening.
“Cas?!”
*
Dean’s back inside in a flash, fumbling for his phone and smashing his thumb against Sam’s contact.
”Finally, Dean!” Sam sounds angry but Dean can’t focus on that right now.
“Sammy, it took Cas.”
There’s silence on the phone for a minute, nothing but the sound of Sam’s breathing, and then, “Shit.”
Dean’s halfway into his jeans, flannel hanging off one arm, and that single syllable’s got his heart up in his throat.
”What, Sam?”
There’s some muffled noise on the other end and then a pinging sound, like an open car door. “It’s a vodyanoy.”
Tugging on his boots so hard he almost snaps the laces, Dean looks at the phone in confusion. “A what?”
“A vodyanoy. It’s a Slavic water spirit. They live in lakes and other small bodies of water, preying on anyone who dares to swim or bathe in their waters without making them an offering.”
Dean tries to absorb this, but none of it explains why—or how—the creature took Cas.
“What about people who get snatched from a cabin next to the lake?” He asks, rubbing a hand down his face, trying to swallow his fear.
They just started to—
No. He can’t do that right now.
“The lore also says they sometimes take people as slaves, and sometimes as ‘wives’, though the translation is probably just outdated, I think it actually means ‘helpmeet’ or even ‘companion’, so it doesn’t have to be women.”
Dean sits down on the bed, adrenaline draining from his body at Sam’s words. “So he’s probably alive?”
”Yeah, there’s a good chance of it. Now, which cabin are you in? The one closest to the lake, you said?”
Dean stands up in surprise, shrugging on his flannel. “Yeah. You here?”
There’s a knock at the front door and then Sam enters, pocketing his cell phone. “Yeah, well, when you didn’t answer me all day, I decided I’d just come out and check on you. I figured out what we were dealing with after talking with the last victim’s husband, and from what I can tell, they primarily hunt after dark, so we were getting too close to the creature’s active hours.”
He drops a couple of army surplus bags on the floor by the door and shuts it behind him.
“Okay, from everything I’ve been able to dig up, the vodyanoy are humanoid and according to some legends, can shape-shift.”
Dean groans at this. “Great.”
Sam nods. “Pretty much. They keep their captives in an underwater cave, but it can be difficult to find, often sealed off with a heavy stone. So I brought supplies.”
Grabbing the bags he dropped at the front door, Sam pulls out masks, flippers, waterproof flashlights, and two sets of small air tanks.
“Ready for a swim?”
*
Swimming in a creepy-ass lake in the dark of night is legitimately horrible, but Dean’s motivated. It’s Sam who finds the cave entrance, blocked as he described by a large circular stone. Getting it to budge is a whole ‘nother story, requiring some complicated leveraging with nearby rocks and logs, but they manage it.
The tunnel is a tight squeeze, so they cautiously enter single-file, only to surface and find Cas—still naked—kneeling over the creature’s bound body, the three other missing men huddled to one side, clearly in shock.
“Cas?” Dean approaches him, staring down at the creature. “What happened?”
Cas steps away from the green-skinned thing, part-frog, part-man. “We knocked it out, and then I tied it up. I think it suffocated, we’ve had it out of the water for a while.”
Sam walks over at this and stares down at the vodyanoy. “Hm. Pretty clever, actually.”
*
Getting everyone back to the surface takes a few trips, and Dean’s loath to leave Cas’s side for any of it.
Once they’re finally back on dry land, Sam dials the husband of the solo victim and he drives right over to pick up all three men, thanking the brothers profusely for their rescue efforts and agreeing to a cover story where the men had been lost in the woods.
None of them protested too hard to divulge the truth, clearly still struggling to process what they’d been through.
*
Several hours later finds them exhausted and about to crash, planning to head out early in the morning.
Cas is in the shower, trying to scrub off the layer of ‘slime’ he said the creature doused him in—there was some explanation of waterproofing, but Cas said he was too disgusted to get into the details, so Dean didn’t press him.
Currently, Dean’s leaning on the kitchen counter, sharing a wordless beer with Sam, drained and ready to leave this place.
Sam, of course, seems to think this is prime—time for a feelings debrief.
”So what happened?”
With a sigh, Dean recounts the thirty seconds between retrieving the water bottles and Cas being abducted, leaving out everything but the open door, the shout, and the splashing.
Sam rolls his eyes. “Right, okay. And before that? Do anything to work up such a thirst?”
Dean chooses to ignore the question and instead picks up his phone, scanning back through the dozen or so missed calls and texts from Sam with a shake of his head. “Why did it show up tonight? We’ve been here for four nights and haven’t seen or heard a damn thing.
Sam looks around the cabin, eyes lingering knowingly on the bed and the pile of Cas’s clothing strewn on the floor.
“Well, did something happen between you two?”
Dean scowls but he knows his face is flushed red, betraying him. “What the hell would make you think that, Sam?”
“I dunno, Dean, maybe ‘cause I’ve read the books?” Sam mutters, “Or because I have eyes?”
Scoffing, Dean rolls his eyes. “We weren’t that obvious dude, come on. We’d barely even acknowledged it to ourselves.”
Sam lets out a slightly hysterical-sounding laugh. “What show have you been watching?”
“Huh?” Dean just stares at him, confused as all get out.
“Nothing, Dean. Nevermind.” Dropping his empty bottle into the provided recycling bin, Sam claps Dean on the shoulder. “I’m just glad everyone is okay now.”
Dean nods, allowing himself to think Sam’s done with his prying bullshit.
A mistake.
“Hey, you know Dave? Mark’s husband? We got to talking and come to find out, he’s actually not gay. He’s bi. I think that had something to do with why the creature didn’t take him, but obviously I can’t be sure.” Sam appears lost in thought.
Dean sighs, waiting for the point. “And?”
”Hm? Oh, nothing else. Just thought that was kind of interesting, you know? A little food for thought?”
Sam smiles at Dean, a shit-eating grin if Dean’s ever seen one, and settles himself into the recliner.
“Get some sleep, Dean. It’s a long drive home.”
*
Cas is climbing into bed when Dean leaves Sam in the other ‘room’, and all thoughts of his annoying brother are replaced with the palpable relief Dean feels at seeing Cas safe and sound. Slipping under the covers, Dean wraps himself around Cas, hugging him tightly.
“That was fucking terrifying. I never want to lose you like that again, okay?”
Clinging right back, Cas nods and buries his face in Dean’s shoulder, the both of them breathing each other in and slowly, incrementally relaxing.
“I hope you know I meant everything I said this week, Dean,” Cas mumbles.
Dean pulls back to see Cas’s face, kissing him softly and nodding. “I know. You had me feeling all kinds of naked the past few days.” He kisses Cas again, winking.
Cas rolls his eyes but kisses Dean back, sinking against him happily.
With a groan, Dean stretches up to click off the lamp, and they settle into the silent darkness of the cabin.
At least, it’s silent until Sam calls out from the other room. ”Just wanna say, you guys are fucking adorable!”
”GOOD NIGHT, SAM!”