32. A New Year

Everything is sunshine, kittens, puppies and rainbows and Dean doesn't give a damn about how girly that sounds. He's still riding the euphoric high of sex – even if they basically just dry humped on the couch like a couple of horny teens. To be fair, Cas is probably still coming down off his mating season and Dean hasn't seen any action beyond his right hand in more months than he cares to count. Not to mention that he's been dying to touch Cas and be touched by Cas and dear sweet pie on high, they did it. They finally fucking did it and it was awesome.

And the best thing about it? Cas. Hands down, it was Cas. Every little sound, every movement – Christ, it was completely and utterly unashamed. Most people are at least a little self conscious about what they're doing, or how they might look to the other person. They try to keep enough control to school their face so they don't make any weird expression, so they can keep looking sexy, or they pull out the porn star noises when they're not really feeling it. Cas didn't do any of that. He was so – so fucking open and natural and just really damn amazing.

He'd been all wide eyes, open mouth, clumsy hands and just fucking perfect. It had been completely Cas-like to dive right into it without thinking, watching and touching and tasting and – fuck, Dean gets chills just remembering it. And that's not even thinking on what it was like to be the one who made Cas like that. If Cas was telling the truth, and Dean wholly believes he was, then he's never been touched like that before and Dean was the first. He was the first to make Cas lose himself in what little bit they did. There's a whole world of other stuff to do and Dean's wants to be the one to show him it.

Being with Cas makes Dean happy. He's known that much for months and not getting to see him for the last three was painful bordering on torture. Getting to talk to him once a week got Dean through most of it, but he it wasn't enough. But being here right now? Dean doesn't need TV, or the internet, or fried foods. Reading, doing things with his hands, talking with Cas, they fill his day and he's happy with it.

Heck, he's even thinking of asking Cas to show him how to make a mat so they could do that together. And if he's going to be out here more often, maybe he'll take up another hobby. Whittling, carpentry, knitting – okay, maybe not knitting. But he should take up some kind of new hobbies. He could start make models and shit, take up painting, or drawing, or anything will do because he'll be happy with anything as long as he's with Cas.

Finally knowing that he's got all of Cas, Dean's happy as hell. It's the first time he's felt properly complete in a really long time. Heck, he can't even remember the last time he was this happy. He doesn't even know if he's ever been this happy before and it feels fucking fantastic.

“You didn't change.”

Dean looks up from his bag. Cas is standing in the entrance of the cave and he's just wearing a loincloth – which really isn't fair. How's Dean supposed to focus on anything else when Cas is walking around like that and especially when Dean's allowed to touch now? Willpower. He's going to need a hell of a lot of that if he's going to be a good little boy.

Cas has a couple shirts, pants, and even more underpants in his arms. After what happened on the couch, they agreed to change their underclothes and Cas was going to show him how he washes his clothes. Apparently he's been putting it off and this is just the kick in the pants that he needed to get on it. It's kinda cool to learn that even Cas doesn't always do all his chores.

Far as Dean can tell, they're doing it old school. Which means in a pot with soap root and if Cas pulls out one of those cheese-grater washboard things, Dean might actually laugh himself to tears. He thinks maybe he saw something on the discovery channel about clothes being beaten on rocks at riversides. But they probably won't be doing that here.

Before he got changed, Cas had uncovered the secondary fire pit and got a fire going there. He put the grate over it, propped up higher than normal on some rocks, and their bath water was topped up and moved there. The waters been at a steady simmer for a while now and Cas goes over, dumping in a few of the clothes. He gets the fire power and starts using that to stir the clothes around.

“I'm already done, actually.” Dean grins, standing. He tosses the shirt he'll wear later over the back of the chair and holds up his balled up boxers. “Got a new set already on.”

“Good. Just throw them in here.” Cas gestures at the pot and Dean crosses over to him, dropping them in and watching Cas push them to down with the stick. “We’ll let them soak for a little bit before we’ll rub soap into them, soak some more, and beat them clean on the table. By then it should be okay for you to wash the dye off and put a shirt on again.”

Dean shrugs and drops back onto the couch, stretching his legs out and reaching for a book. “Maybe I'll just keep it off for the rest of the day. You keep it nice and toasty in here, so it's not like it's a problem.”

Cas looks at him from across the room and Dean knows that look. He's still getting used to seeing it on Cas's face, but he knows want when he sees it. Maybe him going around shirtless has the same effect on Cas that Cas going around practically naked has on him. Judging by how twitchy his wings are getting again, Dean's leaning heavily toward that being a 'yes'.

“Like what you see, Cas?”

“You know I do.”

He's so stupidly blatant about everything now and Dean grins. “How much attention d'you have to pay to the clothes? Could you afford a kiss break?”

“We did plenty of kissing ten minutes ago.”

“I know. I was there.” They're some damn good memories. “And I'm pretty sure we did a heck of a lot more than just kissing. Doesn't mean that I don't want to do it some more. I'm all nice and shirtless over here, and you're all nice and nearly naked over there. I say we should make the most of it.”

Cas rolls his eyes and stirs the pot again. “I need to mind the clothes and get back to the mat. I have orders to fill for the gathering next summer. Besides, I don't recover that quick and I know for a fact that your refractory period isn't that short either.”

“And how do you know that?” He grins and raises his eyebrows suggestively. Of course he's not ready to go yet, but teasing Cas is pretty damn fun. “You been timing me or something?”

His feathers puff up again, and he shoots Dean a dirty look. “I've been around Hamiaah with Human mates during the mating season. I've heard the whining.” Cas puts the stick aside and walks toward him with a small smirk that might be driving Dean a little crazy. “They can't keep going and get tired too quickly. You're lucky you missed it.”

“Hm, we'll see about that next year.” He laughs, reaching out to catch Cas's hand to pull him down next to him on the couch. “Or actually, I should say this year. Yesterday was New Year's Eve and that makes today the first day of the year.” Dean leans over and kisses him, loving that feeling of right when he does it. “Happy New Year, Cas.”

“Happy New Year, Dean.” Cas murmurs against his mouth, bringing up a hand to cup his jaw. He's got a thing about touching and it's a thing that Dean really, really likes.

It sucks that Cas wasn't kidding about needing to do stuff. Dean barely gets his hand on Cas’s knee before he’s getting up and going back to the pot to keep stirring their clothes. And Dean just watches him. Watches the flex of muscles under his back and in his arms while he stirs; the way his wings shift when he moves – and he thinks about the power in them. Angels are stronger than they look and Dean’s pretty sure Cas would have no problem picking him up if he wanted to, and he’s going to save those kind of thoughts for later.

Right now he’s more interested in thinking about all the little things that he doesn’t know about Cas. There’s a whole other side to people when they’re in a relationship and Dean feels greedy. He wants to know what Cas is like in bed, sure, that’s a given. Dean’s a creature of physical pleasures after all. But that’s not the only thing he’s after. He wants to know what Cas is like without any of his little guards up. They’ve gotten pretty fucking close in the last several months, but Cas still had walls up between them – not that Dean didn’t have those too. But now they can drop them and just be them and he wants that. Jesus Christ, he wants that bad enough it kind of scares him.

“Dean?” Cas looks over his shoulder. “May I ask you something?”

He looks away from his wings to slant a smile at him. “Go ahead. I’m an open book.”

“Why do you put significance on the beginning of the year?”

“You’ve never made a new year resolution before?” Dean puts the book he never even opened back on the pile on the stump and crosses his legs, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. Cas just shrugs and shakes his head, so Dean continues. “It’s about new beginnings, a chance to be a new you and improve on what you didn’t like about yourself in the last year, or make plans to do something that you’ve been putting off. Planning for the future and all that.”

Cas hums, a little noise in the back of his throat that he makes when he understands and he’s just thinking it over. “Do you have any resolutions for this year?”

He always hates getting asked that question. Dean slumps back against the couch and looks up at the nest. There’s always the usual – the lose weight, tone up, eat healthier bullshit. Since there’s nothing wrong with the shape he’s in, Dean’s not going to bother thinking about that. And since he met Cas, he’s already improved on his eating habits because he’s picked up the cooking bug and hasn’t lost it since.

“I dunno, Cas.” Dean sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. “I want to help people, so I guess I’d like to try hunting more. And I want to spend more time with Sammy, and I definitely want to spend more time with you, but that’s kinda in the air because of the shit about the war. I have to find dad and make sure he’s okay – and I want to figure out a way to get him to stop killing Angels. Oh God, I’m going to have to figure out how to tell him that I’m not going to be an Angel hunter anymore either.” He shrugs and looks back down at Cas. “It’d be nice to try and get other hunters to stop killing you guys too when you don’t deserve it at all.”

“Not many deserve death, Dean. But don’t forget that there are still quite a few Human haters among us.” Cas glances back at him. “And there are some who do act on that aggression. To my understanding, it’s very rare and the vast majority of what we’re blamed for is caused by the Hamiamma.”

He sighs again, crossing his arms and frowning down at the floor. “I know. And trying to convince anyone to stop hunting you guys will need a reason. Which means telling people about the Hamiamma and I promised that I wouldn’t. It’s your guys’ ‘big shame’ and all, right?”

Cas nods and looks away. “If anything good comes of this war, I hope it will be getting the Hamiamma under control. The monsters their children become are too numerous for us to handle, but hunters like you help a great deal.”

Dean gets up and crosses the room to sit next to Cas and sling an arm around his waist, leaning into his side while he stirs. “I just don’t want anyone hunting you. Not all hunters are as awesome as me.”

A wing drops across Dean’s shoulders, curving around his side. “The world would be a better place if they were.”

“You don’t need to butter me up for kisses, Cas. I’ll give ‘em freely.” He grins and presses one to Cas’s shoulder before stretching up to plant one under his ear. “Y’don’t even need to ask.” He murmurs against his jaw before Cas turns his head so he can kiss him nice and proper.

It’s short and sweet before Cas shoos him back to the couch so he can focus on the laundry. Dean entertains himself with a book until Cas gets him to come help with soaping up the clothes. All that involves is taking the pot off the grill and rubbing soap root into the fabric. While Dean does that, Cas takes the water outside to find a place to dump it and comes back with the pot full of snow. It melts quickly over the fire and they wash the soap out in that.

The fun part is spreading everything out on the table and beating the shit out of them with an honest to God paddle. Cas only has one and he puts himself in charge of smacking  the dirt out, though he does let Dean take a few swings. Dean gets the job of hanging whatever Cas is done with from the nest so it can drip dry in the heat from the fire.

“They should be dry by suppertime.” Cas points out while using a cloth to dry the table a little. “We’ll clean the table properly before we eat.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean drops back onto the couch and picks up the book he abandoned. It’s not cold enough inside for him to want to put on a shirt and he figures he’ll leave the dye on until he absolutely needs to get dressed. Like if he’s got to go outside to take a piss or something. That kind of need.

It takes nearly two hours for that need to come up and Cas helps him was off the crusted dye. He’s very careful and very attentive with the damp cloth, cleaning the new tattoo in small increments and smiling softly the whole time. Dean gets out his cell phone and takes a picture of it, and then for the hell of it, he takes a picture of him kissing Cas. Whether it’s proof for Sam and Jess, or it’s just for his own personal library, he doesn’t really know. But it was a spur of the moment decision and Cas doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve made a new resolution.” He announces when he comes back inside and kicks off his boots. “The new resolution is to build a bathroom in this place or something. How the hell can you stand going outside like that? What if it was a blizzard outside? Would you still try to take a piss in that?”

“I have covered jars that I –”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Dean covers his ears and makes a face at the confused look Cas gives him. “It’s gross, Cas. If you had, like, a port-a-potty attached to the side of the house that we could get too without going outside, think about how nice that would be?”

Cas just rolls his eyes at him and goes back to making his mat. Dean still counts it as a victory. He’s planted the seeds of now and all he has to do is get some wifi for some research on ancient septic systems or something. The more info he can get for Cas about it, the better. Not that he’ll really need it a lot right now, since five days from now he’ll be heading back to the clan. It shouldn’t be right, or healthy, for Dean to hate people he’s never met for making Cas do stuff he doesn’t want to do (and for taking him away from him). But Dean’s more than a little miffed at it and tries not to let it bother him. Or at least, he tries not to let Cas know that it bothers him.

When they’re sitting down for supper, Cas finally has pants on again and he’s wearing the poncho Dean gave him. Everything is folded and put away nicely and the table got scrubbed down while the pizza they made tonight baked in the domed oven.

“D’you have any resolutions?” Dean asks, nudging Cas’s knee with his foot. “You’ve had a few hours to think about it. Got any plans?”

Cas puts his slice of pizza down, staring at it for a minute before he starts slowly. “My future is not as steady as yours. If don’t know where I will be a few weeks, or even a few months from now. I don’t even know if I’ll be allowed to leave the clan again before the next mating season.”

That makes his stomach twist and Dean puts his slice down too. Not getting to see Cas for a year is probably the best appetite suppressant he’s ever come across. “Oh.”

“I don’t think I can make resolutions, but I can make wishes of the hopes I have for the coming year.” Cas says softly, rubbing his ankle up Dean’s calf. “Such as how I wish the war would end. I want Lucifer to be stopped and for everyone – Human and Hamiaah – to be safe. And, of course, I hope that we will be able to see each other more, which plays into my hope that Raphael doesn’t decide to move our clan south to join with Michael’s in the rainforests.”

Dean stops trying to hook his foot around Cas’s leg to pin it in place. “Wait, what?” Apparently that’s something he forgot to mention before and Dean does not like the sound of it.

Cas flinches, hunching his shoulders and curling his wings in tight against his back. “I didn’t think it necessary to tell you when I first heard about it a little over a month ago. And since our relationship evolved, I hadn’t thought about it until now.”

“No, that’s fine. I figured that much out.” He waves his hand like that’ll clear the air or something. “No, I’m more concerned about the whole moving away thing. What’s the deal with that?”

“Lucifer is taking down the clans across the sea. There are only two clans left in the western hemisphere since his was destroyed – my own in the northern mountains and Michael’s in the southern rainforests.” Cas explains, staring down at his pizza like he’s getting all his answers from it. “Gabriel’s clan fell to Lucifer’s armies just before my training started. Raphael has decided that if any of the others fall, he’ll move our clan to join with Michael’s. Together we’ll be stronger and safer than if we were apart.” He shifts in his seat and looks up at Dean. “And there’s the very real possibility that they might decide to send us overseas to meet Lucifer head on before he can make it here.”

Dean shoves his plate away and slumps back in his chair. Any thought of finishing supper is long gone and he’s not sure if he’s going to want to eat breakfast either. How the hell is he supposed to take the news that it’s entirely possible he won’t get to see Cas again after this for a year or longer? That’s not fair. They just got together and now they might get pulled apart even more? God fucking dammit.

Cas hesitates for a second before he gets up and comes around the table. Dean turns into him without thinking about it, leaning his cheek on his belly and wrapping his arms around his hips. It gets really dark when Cas folds his wings around him, but Dean doesn’t mind. When he does that, it’s like Cas is cutting off the rest of the world and it’s just them for a little while. He did that early on the couch and Dean decided then that he likes it.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas says it as softly as he runs a hand through Dean’s hair. “As soon as I return to the clan, I’ll see if I can negotiate time to see you more when I notify them of the change in our relationship – though the majority of my clan already believes that you and I were more than friends.”

He snorts and muffles a laugh against Cas’s hip. “We weren’t that obvious, were we?”

“Apparently we were. The rumours started almost immediately after Hester reported to the clan that I had a Human guest while they were here. I don’t think sharing my nest with you helped in that regard.” Cas keeps talking all soft and whatever he’s doing to Dean’s scalp with his fingers is all sorts of magical. “Balthazar believed me when I said that you and I were just friends, but I think it was fairly obvious to him that I wanted to be more. He said I sounded ‘bitter’.”

Dean hums, tilting his head into Cas’s hand so he doesn’t stop with the magic fingers. “If they know we’re more than friends now, does that mean they’ll let me visit you at the clan? Even if it’s in Canada, I’ve got a passport and everything. I could drive up there and visit you easier than it would be for you to keep on having to come back down here – if that’s gonna be the biggest problem for them.”

“I don’t know if they’ll let you come to the clan itself without them meeting you first to make sure that you’re trustworthy.” Cas’s voice rumbles down through his belly and under Dean’s cheek. It’s pretty damn soothing too and Dean moves one hand to start petting one of Cas’s wings, trying to return at least a little bit of the head massage goodness. “But it might be possible to meet at a location closer to the clan. There’s a human town full of our allies that isn’t far, and they have several log houses that we use to meet with them in should we need to discuss things.”

“It almost sounds like you’re talking about conjugal visits.” He tilts his head to rest his chin on Cas’s stomach so he can look straight up at him. Cas looks down and Dean grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I’m game for that.”

At least he gets a smirk out of Cas for that, but it also gets him a twist of fingers in his hair. Cas probably would’ve flicked him on the nose too if Dean hadn’t turned his face back down and squished his nose against his belly. He presses a kiss just below Cas’s belly button and contemplates the pros and cons of trying to blow a raspberry. Maybe later. Right now, he’s kind of rocking the whole hug thing.

“Do you think you’ll be able to finish eating now?” Cas asks after a few minutes. “Or would you rather we retire to the othil to read?”

Nothing ever really squashes Dean’s appetite for long, and hearing that Cas is going to try and work it out with his clan to get to see him more often really helped. He hums against Cas’s skin and resists the urge to rub his cheek against it. Dean is not a damn cat.

“Pizza. Reading. Kisses. Sleep.” He presses another kiss to Cas’s belly before he lets him step away. “That sound good to you?”

“Of course.” Cas cups his cheek and tilts his face up as he dips down to give him a lingering kiss.

One pizza, a decent chunk of their books, and a couple separate make out sessions later, Dean’s tucking up under the blankets with Cas’s wing folded over them. Cas is up against his side and worming an arm and leg over him before Dean’s even completely settled. He keeps pressing kisses to Dean’s shoulder, or his collarbone, or even his neck if it’s within reach and every touch makes Dean feel warm inside in a completely different way than he’s used to. These aren’t kisses to turn him on. They’re soft, gentle, a little bit sleepy, and they make Dean feel important, special, loved.

He draws Cas up close and they don’t say anything – no goodnight, or the other words that keep getting stuck somewhere down in between Dean’s lungs. They don’t need to say it. All the words are in the little tender kisses that go everywhere first before they manage to find their way to each other’s lips. Dean smiles into it and runs his free hand down Cas’s arm until he can find his hand on his chest and link their fingers together.

Yeah. Being here with Cas is definitely the happiest he’s been in a very long time.

x

There are many reasons that Castiel likes waking up early in the morning. Most of them revolve around being able to get more done during the day if he wakes up early and well rested. Some of them involve how he likes the morning songs of the birds and the smell of the forest during a new dawn. And he always enjoys the feel of the day’s first sunlight on his wings when he’s flying.

Now Dean has given him another reason to enjoy waking up early. Or more accurately, waking up first. If Castiel thought waking up next to Dean during the week they shared his nest before was as good as it was going to get. But now, waking up next to him and knowing that Dean is his – it’s the best thing to wake up to Castiel has had in a very long time. Even just watching Dean sleep makes him happy. The deep rhythmic sound of his breathing, and how perfectly relaxed Dean is, it borders on amazing. And perhaps the knowledge that he could kiss or touch Dean until he’s awake is rather heady in itself.

Castiel listens to the beat of Dean’s heart until Dean wakes up. He’s barely finished stretching and yawning before Castiel kisses him. With all the different kinds of kisses they’ve had, Castiel isn’t sure which he likes best – although he is leaning heavily in favour of the slow ones. They’re the ones that are more than just a physical connection between them. There’s no passion or lust fueling them, it’s simply about feeling each other out slowly. It’s in those kisses that Castiel almost thinks that he can taste Dean’s emotions.

They discover, shortly after getting out of the nest, that it is snowing heavily outside. Today will be another day they spend in doors and Castiel doesn’t mind that. Dean seems content with reading or playing on the machine he brought while Castiel works on his mat. There are points during the day where they don’t talk for a few hours, and there are times between and during meals that they barely stop to breathe. And there are many, many times where the silence is filled with the sweep of hands, the press of lips, the slide of tongues and, on the odd occasion, the drag of teeth. It makes time that should feel like it is moving slowly pass much faster than expected.

By the time they’re returning to the nest, Castiel feels tired but he also feels like he’s only just woken up. Tonight, after their kissing is broken by a mutual yawn, Castiel curls against Dean’s back. He slots his knees behind Dean’s and wraps his arm around his waist. Without a blanket between them, the heat radiating from Dean through his clothing almost negates the need for as many blankets as they have. Dean even laughs when Castiel rubs his nose against the back of his neck, warming it against his skin.

He doesn’t have words to describe how it feels to have the person he cares for fall asleep in his arms and under his wing. There’s an overpowering sense if complete to it. Like this was what he needed to stop feeling so empty and alone. Castiel can’t stop thinking about how the change to their relationship has affected their lives now. In some places, there are many differences, but in others there is none.

The only difference that he can find in most of the things they do is that they’re both much more free with touches. Dean will often, almost absently, reach out to stroke Castiel’s wings. Or he’ll lean over to press a kiss against his back, his shoulder, his cheek, or even just fully kiss him. This happens when they’re reading, talking, or cooking. They had smaller touches before, but those felt stolen and left Castiel craving for more than what he was allowed to have.

But now he can have it and it’s a concept he is still having trouble grasping. Each time Dean lets Castiel kiss him, he always steps away feeling strangely full. He feels satisfied and everything has an odd sense of perfection to it. Castiel is well aware that things are far from perfect, but this is the closest he thinks they can come to it now. Perfect can’t be achieved when in four days time he’s going to have to return to the clan.

Morning comes with a loud scuffling sound outside the salman. It’s enough to wake Dean and they get dressed quietly, investigating together to find Silvanus digging out the paths again from the snow that fell yesterday. Castiel has barely thanked him for helping without being asked when a loosely formed ball of snow breaks apart against his one of his wings.

He turns to find Dean grinning at him and already scooping up more snow. “You ever had a snowball fight, Cas?”

“No.” Castiel frowns, shaking his wing out and watching as Dean packs the snow together into another ball. “Why did you throw that?”

“For fun. It’s like a game. The person who gives up first loses.” He tosses the ball from one hand to the other after it’s formed. “What d’you say, Cas? Wanna play?”

This is something new. He never played games in the snow with his parents when he was a child, and after their death he was too focused on training and earning the respect of the clan to pay attention to the children when they were playing. Granted, by then he wasn’t entirely a child himself anymore.

Castiel ducks under the next snowball Dean throws and he crouches to form his own. Silvanus huffs at them both as he clears the path through the field, dividing the sides that he and Dean take up. Dean’s laughter echoes in the forest, but his aim is almost as deadly as Castiel’s. Once or twice, when his snowballs catch Dean by surprise and nearly knock him off his feet, Castiel can’t help a laugh of his own. He never thought playing in the snow could be so much fun.

The snowball fight ends on a mutual agreement when they’re both too hungry to continue. Their clothing dries by the fire while they make breakfast and eat it, stopping often for breathless kisses as Dean whispers praise about Castiel’s snow-battle skills into the crook of his neck.

Dean is giddy, grinning and laughing and full of energy. As soon as they’re finished cleaning up from breakfast, he’s dragging Castiel back outside. They walk with Castiel’s hand in Dean’s pocket again, taking the cleared path to the clearing with Dean’s car. Silvanus is carefully digging around it and Dean helps, getting a shovel from the space in the back of the car to dig closer to her body. He gives Castiel a brush to dust the snow from her windows and roof. Dean lets her run for a few minutes, explaining that he needs to do it so she doesn’t freeze.

When they’re done, they return to the clearing around the salman and Dean shows him how to build a snowman. They build two, one in the conventional way, and one in their own way. Any attempt to give it wings doesn’t work out well, but it was fun trying. They also build a short wall – one on each side of the clearing – that Dean claims are ‘forts’. The walls don’t provide much coverage for the second half of their snowball fight, but Castiel still enjoys himself.

Silvanus’s return from finishing the roads is the deciding factor for when they retire inside. Castiel hangs back to spend a few moments with him while Dean goes inside with the instructions to fill the large pot with water and set it over the fire. Despite the cold, they’ve both worked up quite the sweat in their outdoor clothing and it’s about time that they bathe anyway.

You are happy, Qaal. Silvanus nudges him with his snout, nearly knocking Castiel over. Happier than I have ever seen you.

“I am.” He smiles and leans against him. “I am very happy with Dean.”

Good. Tell me if he hurts you. I will eat him.

Castiel muffles a laugh under his hand and shoves at him, stepping away in the same motion. “You will do no such thing. You should give Dean the same amount of trust that I do.”

Silvanus huffs and whips his tail through the snow, narrowly missing their snowmen. Maybe. Go inside now, Qaal. He is waiting. He twists to press his nose under one of Castiel’s wings. I will be back to take you to the clan, or sooner if it snows again.

“Thank you. We appreciate your effort.” He rubs gently between his eyes. “Stay safe.”

He waits until Silvanus has lumbered out of sight before going inside. Dean is kneeling by the fire, already stripped down to his undershorts while he feeds kindling into the flames. The water is warming over the grill and his clothing is already hanging from the nest to dry. Castiel leaves his boots next to Dean’s at the entrance and undresses slowly on his way to join Dean by the fire.

“Do you want them on or off this time?” Dean asks without looking up, using a cloth to check the temperature of the water.

The question is one he was expecting. Castiel knows he told Dean that the next time they bathe together they would remove their underclothing and, truthfully, he’s been thinking about since they decided earlier that they would bathe after the finished playing outside. He still hasn’t come to a decision. A part of him wants to see all of Dean, but another part of him is worried that if he does, they won’t be able to keep from touching and what would touching lead to?

It’s not that Castiel is afraid of sex, or even particularly naïve about it. And he’s certainly not uncomfortable with the idea of being naked around Dean. The thought of Dean being completely bare to him sends a shiver through his wings. The only hesitation he has with his answer is that they haven’t talked about anything yet. Castiel doesn’t know how to broach the subject and he’s not even certain if there’s been a moment between them where that discussion would have been an appropriate segue.

Dean left it up to him to decide their pace and so far Castiel hasn’t been able to get them much further than touching one another through their clothes. Yesterday they were both aroused and Castiel had enjoyed the gentle caresses, but neither of them had continued touching the other enough to actually achieve orgasm. They had gotten too lost in simple kissing and the moment for that had burned itself out. Even though Dean didn’t seem to mind, Castiel was slightly frustrated with it all. He wants more. Now that he has Dean’s heart, he’s more than ready to have his body. He just not sure how to get it.

“Off.” His answer surprises him, but Castiel doesn’t let it show as he unties the strings of his qaa.

“Am I allowed to touch you?”

Castiel looks up to find Dean standing, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his undershorts and his eyes locked on him. His wings fan out at the thought of Dean’s fingers on him without that final barrier of clothing and the first pulse of heat starts to curl in his veins. If Dean touches him, even if it’s not meant to be sexual, he’s not sure what he might do.

There’s an all too knowing look in Dean’s eyes and he takes the few steps between them to cover Castiel’s hands with his own. He leans in and kisses him lightly. “Hey, I’m not going to do anything you’re not ready for. You know that.”

“I know.” Castiel tilts his head to rest his forehead against Dean’s. “I’m more worried about what I might do when you touch me.”

“Do what you want, Cas.” Dean pulls Castiel’s hands from his qaa to rest on his hips. “If you want to touch, you touch. If you don’t, you don’t. It’s simple. I just want to know if you’re okay with me touching you too.”

The understanding and acceptance reflected back at him in Dean’s eyes seals the decision for him. Castiel presses a kiss to Dean’s lips, murmuring against them. “I am.”

He pushes Dean’s underpants down and keeps kissing him until his qaa is on the floor too. They step apart still holding each other’s eyes until, but unspoken agreement, they look down and take in the full sight of each other. Dean isn’t aroused at the moment, but he does seem to be somewhat above average – or at least the average to Castiel’s knowledge going by the clan. In his all, with his scars and freckles, Dean is very beautiful.

“Uncut.” Dean looks up at him again, grinning. “I totally called it.”

“Why? Because I’m a Hamiaah?” Castiel rolls his eyes and pushes past him to take the water off the grill. “There are plenty of us that have been circumcised for medical reasons. It’s not a foreign practice to us. I didn’t need it since I never had the problem of phimosis and I clean under the foreskin daily.”

Dean picks up one of the cloths and dips it into the water as soon as Castiel puts the pot down on the table. “It’s not a bad thing, Cas. I just kind of had a bet going with myself about how accurate all my fantasies about you have been. Now turn around and let me at your shoulders.”

Castiel doesn’t object. He turns around and drops his wings to give Dean more room. The water is even warmer than it should be on his skin, still cool from outside. It’s exquisite, and only more so when Dean rubs firmly in all the right spots. He lets his head drop forward and closes his eyes while Dean massages his shoulders and makes sure to clean everywhere around his wings. He doesn’t follow the path of the cloth with his lips and Castiel doesn’t ask why. It feels too good for him to want to worry about that at the moment.

He leans forward when Dean works the cloth further down his back, stopping only to soak the cloth again. His wings twitch slightly when Dean swipes over his lower back and continues to his backside. Dean gives as much attention there as he has everywhere else before he moves to Castiel’s legs, doing one from thigh to foot on one before moving to the other. Castiel hums little sounds of pleasure through it all, especially when Dean digs his thumbs into his muscles and rubs firmly down each leg.

At the guidance of Dean’s hands, Castiel turns around to face him. Even during the last time that they cleaned each other like this, Dean wasn’t this attention. They were still extremely new to the change in their relationship then. What Dean is doing now is the closest to reverence that anyone has given to his body before. It’s a dizzying feeling and when he meets Dean’s eyes again, the warmth in them isn’t just the heat of desire.

Dean leans in to kiss him while he runs the cloth over his throat and collarbone, passing under his jaw and ears. It’s simple, and tender, and it says a thousand words that find their way into the very fibers of him. Castiel’s wings fold forward, draping themselves around Dean as he pulls him forward to keep kissing him as Dean works the cloth over his chest and along his arms. They stop when Dean needs to rewet the cloth and Castiel looks down, watching him pass it over his stomach and across his hips.

When Dean touches his penis to carefully run the cloth over and around it, Castiel bites his lips and keeps his eyes firmly on what’s happening. It’s not a sensual touch meant to arouse him, but he can’t help the shiver of pleasure down his back. This is the first time he’s had someone else’s fingers touch him there and he almost feels too sensitive. At least Dean doesn’t linger there, moving to wipe down the front of his legs after he’s done. But by then, Castiel has already started to harden just from those simple touches and the thought that it’s Dean paying such close attention to his body.

He pulls Dean to his feet when he’s done and kisses him soundly as he takes the cloth from him. Dean back smiles into the kiss and his grin only grows when Castiel steps away to put the water over the grill again. “I’m a lucky man, Cas.”

“And why is that?” He asks over his shoulder, ducking into the cave to put this cloth into his now empty bag of things that need to be washed. Castiel grabs a clean one from one of the shelves and returns to where Dean is waiting, leaning back against the table and drumming his fingers on its edge. It doesn’t escape his notice that Dean is slightly aroused now, but he pays no more attention to it than Dean does to his own state right now.

“Because I got you.” Dean pulls him close before Castiel can check the water temperature. “You’ve got the best wings around, you’re smart as hell, you’re drop dead gorgeous, and best of all you actually put up with me. Yeah, I’m a lucky, lucky man.”

“I could say the same to you.” Castiel’s smile gets lost in the kiss Dean gives him and he leans into the stretch of warm skin and solid muscle. He puts his hands on the table instead of on Dean’s hips. If he wants to wipe him down too, he’ll need to keep from touching Dean for as long as he can. It’s quickly becoming a pattern that as soon as he’s allowed to touch, he can’t stop.

This proves a difficult decision, especially when he ends up pressed against Dean’s side and the slide of his penis against Dean’s heated skin nearly crumbles his resolve. It’s enough to pull a gasp from him, his hips almost bucking to rub against him purely on instinct alone. Dean licks out to taste the soft sound of surprise, tongue teasing against his own. Castiel’s wings itch to fold forward and surround Dean and the twitch against his back with every push and pull of Dean’s kisses.

“Enough.” He manages, pushing himself away. “You still need to bathe.” There’s a trembling in his limbs and he needs to grip the handle of the pot with both hands to move it to the table or risk dropping it. “Turn around, please.”

Dean grins at him but does as he’s asked and Castiel carefully begins his own process of wiping Dean down. It doesn’t help his situation when Dean insists on making his own quiet noises of pleasure, curving his back under the press of the cloth. He hums repeated and more than once he lets out a soft groan. Castiel can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose to work him up, or if he’s truly just enjoying the warm cloth and Castiel’s ministrations.

Judging by how Dean is in the same state as he was when he turned around, barely even half erect, Castiel thinks it might be the latter. A white hot bolt of heat sizzles down Castiel’s spine to settle in his gut when Dean tilts his head back, exposing his throat. It’s such a submissive gesture and it’s one he isn’t sure Dean knows the connotations of. He bites his lip, trying to focus instead on the cloth moving over Dean’s chest and the stark star below his collarbone.

The sharp breath Dean takes when Castiel moves below his stomach is not missed and Castiel forces himself to remain clinical. If he’s going to touch Dean to pleasure him, it will be after he’s finished cleaning him. It takes quite a bit of his willpower not to rush through wiping down his legs. Dean doesn’t make it easy for him as he spreads his legs to give Castiel better access to the white insides of his thighs.

No sooner has he finished does Castiel drop the cloth into the pot and step in between Dean’s legs. When he folds his wings forward and around him, one knocks the pot of water over and he can’t bring himself to care.

“You are insufferable.” He mumbles against the curve of Dean’s jaw, mouthing at the thin stubble there from a day without shaving. “You couldn’t even let me wash you properly, could you?”

“Like it was so easy for me.” Dean hisses, his hands sweep up Castiel’s back and stop dangerously close to the downy feathers around the base of his wings. “I was singing Hakuna Matata in my head the whole time I was wiping you down.”

Apparently Dean has much better self control than Castiel gives him credit for. He rolls his hips into Dean’s and muffles a groan against his throat. Without the barrier of clothing between them, the friction is maddening. The rhythm they set is slow, matching the slide of their kisses and the careful touch of their hands. Even now the curl and press of fingers doesn’t feel like it’s meant to arouse, although they certainly do. Each stroke of a palm over a hip is a gentle caress.

Castiel only pulls away when he wants to touch Dean properly, when he asks against his lips for Dean to show him how he likes to be touched. He learns how Dean prefers to be stroked and lets Dean’s fingers guide his own to the places that make him twitch, or arch his back, or drop his mouth open to pant for breath. Every movement and reaction is watched closely and Castiel devotes all of it to memory.

There is no basis for which moments with Dean are the most important. Castiel enjoys them all equally. But right now, when he’s holding Dean’s eyes with his own and watching for the moment when they glaze over, this is when he has all of Dean. These are the moments when he has Dean’s mind, his body, and his heart. Two of them shake apart under Castiel’s hands as halting, broken gasps work their way out of Dean’s throat. The third is written across his face and in the kiss he pulls Castiel into, filled with the words he said with the flowers still blooming brightly in the small pots gathered together on the table behind him.

When they’re like this, Castiel doesn’t have the time or the mental capacity to think about anything beyond Dean. He can’t think about more than Dean’s hands sliding sure over his skin, searching for himself all the ways Castiel likes to be touched. Dean asks with curious touches, never giving voice to the same questions Castiel asked him before.

Losing himself in everything that Dean gives him is far better than falling to his worries about the war and the effect it will have on their fresh but still achingly familiar relationship. This intimacy between them is so new, but it feels like this was what they were working toward from the very beginning. It feels so right and Castiel can barely believe he was so blind that he didn’t see just how very possible it was for him to have Dean months ago.

If only he didn’t have to leave him again so soon.