Let's Just Get a Beer Instead

The song the jukebox was playing was familiar to Castiel; Dean had played it many times in the Impala since Castiel had started paying attention. Sometimes the angel had just been listening from afar, tuned in to Dean, checking in on the young human, taking a break from battle to hear what thoughts and fears and oddly beautiful "classic rock" might be passing through Dean's mind. On other occasions, Castiel had been in the center of the rear bench seat, leaning forward and making a conscious effort not to allow his vessel's breath to pass too close to Dean's neck.

Castiel recognized the tandem guitar and steady drumbeat immediately, but oddly, it was the back up vocals which always gripped his attention. He had sometimes wondered whether Earthly beings had some subconscious awareness of the Host's eternal song. When he allowed his mind to wander on the topic of praise, or 'music,' as humanity considered it, some still, small voice always made him believe that the human invention of Vocal Harmony had not been totally original. This connection between all of his Father's creation brought to mind that, after all, both Heavenly and Earthly beings were fearfully and wonderfully made. Still, the name by which this particular group of musicians identified themselves confounded him. Blue Oyster Cult. Perplexingly sacrilegious.

Home in the darkness

Home on the highway

"Cas, buddy. You look a little lost. This bar too loud?" Dean grabbed another wing and bit into it, eyebrows arching up questioningly. He had a half-full beer in front of him, and already the pretty server was eyeing their table, presumably in hopes they would order another round.

"I'm navigationally sound, Dean. And no, I find the music pleasing. Much better than the lurid, percussive filth we heard at the brothel."

Burn out the day

Burn out the night

I can't see no reason to put up a fight

I'm living for giving the devil his due

"Ok. Good. I know you had sorta planned to, uh, sit there quietly tonight, that's all." Dean finished his bottle in a few swigs, perhaps to quell the heat of the unfathomably spicy chicken pieces he was consuming. "Want another beer?"

Castiel nearly declined, simply out of habit, but instead glanced down at his empty bottle as he reconsidered. He was enjoying this evening quite a bit. Even more so now that they were merely drinking alcohol, rather than trying to proposition loose women in that den of iniquity Dean had previously lured him to.

"Yes, please. Another round. And Dean, I don't want you to worry about my status as a so-called 'virgin.' Tomorrow, I will die having experienced fellowship greater than any physical bond could possibly offer. I find your feeling of guilt about that detail troubling. For an angel of the Lord, sexual intercourse is so inconsequential-"

Time ain't on my side

Time I'll never know

"Whoa," his friend interjected. "Cas, you're speakin' blasphemy right now, you do realize. Nothin's better than sex. Still don't feel good about you dyin' a virgin."

Castiel knitted his eyebrows, preparing to defend his position, but then the pretty blonde came by to take their next order.

"Two more, and bring a couple shots of Kentucky's Best. Thanks." Dean flashed a smile at the scantily clad woman, which she returned with knowing eyes.

I'm not the one to tell you what's wrong or what's right

Castiel always had to fight down what he knew were his vessel's bad reactions to other humans who paid Dean their attention and interest. Hormones and synapses and the entire physicality of residing in a human body were nothing new to Castiel, but this vessel in particular seemed drawn to Dean's presence. This was in addition to the bond Castiel himself had with Dean's soul, after having raised him from Perdition. It was a love he knew he could not explain to Dean with words.

Burn out the day

Burn out the night

I can't see no reason to put up a fight

Their drinks arrived and Dean raised his shot. Castiel mimicked him, by now having memorized the ritual.

"Listen, Cas. I'm not real great with words. You know this. I just wanted to say thank you. You saved me from hell, and you've saved my ass a few times since then. It's not enough, just sayin' it, but I know I couldn't live with myself if I never got to tell you..." A hesitance weighted Dean's voice as he trailed off.

Castiel, taking the cue, touched the edge of his glass to Deans and locked eyes with the man for what he deemed an appropriate amount of time, then downed his stinging, hotly alcoholic shot in one gulp. He felt his eyes watering, but wasn't entirely sure whether his vessel was reacting to the shot or Dean's acknowledgement.

"You're most welcome. I hope you'll always understand that I've loved you fiercely. My blood runs hot with the love of a warrior." Castiel almost smiled after giving so manly a display. Surely Dean would appreciate the masculinity he'd shown. He tried not to appear as though he was gloating, though he was certainly feeling something akin to pride.

"Dude. Easy with the love crap. I mean, our waitress is gonna see you talkin' like that, and I know you don't care about getting laid tonight, but I might still have a chance." Dean was smiling, but Castiel didn't feel as though he was in on the joke.

I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you

He was really most disheartened, and he felt a physical ache in his chest, but tried to retain his composure.

"I'm afraid I still don't have a perfect grasp of the modern idiom. I apologize." He lifted his chin toward Dean, but not his gaze. So it was still a love unreturned. But what could he expect? Dean was only human.

"Aw, man. Don't make me feel bad, you're messing with my mojo. Cas." Dean reached across the table, but stopped short of touching Castiel's hand. "Y'know, sometimes you're such a girl."

"Dean, I honestly don't know how to explain myself any more clearly. My entity, my being, my selfness is neither male nor female. I am of the Host of Seraphim, I am not man, nor woman. We are commanded to dwell in male vessels, as it has been since the birth of humanity, and that is all." He took a few generous drinks of his own beer, and settled back into a slump.

"Ok, ok. You're not down with the whole gender identity thing. I get it. And I'm sorry. I can be... insensitive, but I'm workin' on it. I was trying to tell you I feel the same way about you." Dean's eyes shined with some untold hope Castiel hadn't expected, and now he did extend his hand to brush Castiel's across the table. "I was trying to say that I," the man uttered with some effort, "I love you too. Don't go being a smoosh about it, cause that's it. That's all. I love you and that's all."

Castiel was now experiencing something he thought he had learned about humans over the millennia, but he'd never experienced this "tunnel vision" before. It was disorienting. He felt somewhat nauseated, and his palms were for some reason damp.

The edges of his peripheral were actually blurring considerably, and he was unsure he could remain upright much longer. His stomach tightened, and he feared he might lose consciousness entirely. He couldn't allow himself to become such a spectacle, so instead he lunged forward, rather gracelessly, and touched two fingers to Dean's temple.

They were instantaneously transported back to the motel room Dean had stashed his belongings in earlier.

"Dude, what the crap!"

"I'm sorry, Dean. I felt suddenly...unstable."

"You know I don't do well with that kinda travel! Makes my stomach hurt and my butt clench up."

"Perhaps if you'd just relax and trust me, Dean," Castiel started, but thought better of completing his sentence once he saw the testy look on his friend's face. "Why don't you sit down. I'll make us some tea."

Castiel was still feeling somewhat dizzy, but he'd managed to focus on thoughts of peace and calm enough to quiet the storm of nausea he'd experienced in the bar.

"Tea, Cas? Do I look like the queen of England, here? I'll get us a couple beers. Guess we still have time before we have to get back to the house and ruin that demon's day." Dean strode over to the mini-fridge. "Thoughtfully stocked by yours truly," Dean quipped, grinning over his shoulder as he grabbed a couple of bottles. Then he stood, wedging the beers between his arm and side, and fished a bottle of bourbon from a brown paper bag atop the fridge. He bit off the foil, unscrewed the top and took a long pull from the liter. "How do you justify stiffing the waitress like that, anyway? Identity theft is one thing, but a man never walks out on his tab."

"Trust me, walking out on a thirty-dollar bar tab is the least of our concerns. May I have my beer, please?" Castiel sounded to himself a mite snarky, but thought it justified. "I could really use it." He sat down at the small table next to the window, and Dean joined him, twisting off the top of one of the Buds and sliding it across the worn Formica.

"I'm sure you could, bud. Sorry we didn't have more luck tonight. I was really hoping to show you a good time, but I guess that wasn't in the cards." Castiel thought Dean's eyes were smoldering a bit more than usual. Maybe it was the booze. If that really was the cause, he thought he could use a bit more of it, and took the whiskey bottle from Dean's hand.

"Stop apologizing," he said sternly, and drank a shot from the bottle. He winced, but he was beginning to feel warm, and he wanted more of this, so he took a second pull.

"Hey there, cowboy. Might wanna take it easy. I'm guessin' you're a lightweight, and I'm gonna need you in fighting shape before too long."

"On the contrary, Dean. I could drink you under a table several times over. This will, as you like to put it, just take the edge off." Castiel took one final swig and slid the bottle back across the dated kitchenette table.

"Anything you can do, I can do better," Dean grinned, and took another gulp or two, then chased it with a swallow of beer.

"That's patently untrue. But your tolerance is impressive, for a human. Sam occasionally refers to you as a 'BAMF,' when it's just us, and I concur." Castiel's eyes began to dance, feeling the liquor more quickly than he had expected to. "Never used that word in a sentence before. But I like saying it. BAMF."

Dean was chuckling, now, and the mood was relaxing somewhat. It occurred to Castiel that Dean might actually stop pressing him about his experience (or lack thereof) at the brothel. But the angel was now feeling some uncertainty that he truly wanted to drop the subject.

"If I had...followed through...with the prostitute tonight, would you have 'gotten laid' too?" His head pivoted slightly to the right with curiosity.

"At the brothel? No, no, no, brotha. I don't pay for the booty. In fact, I should charge." Dean's grin widened, and he shot Castiel a slow wink.

"I must admit, my interest is piqued. Regarding the physical act of love, I mean. I would almost go as far as to say I am regretful that I waited until the eleventh hour to realize how interested I am." He held Dean's gaze, not entirely sure what he hoped the man across the table would say. His body was certainly responding (he supposed it was his body now, Jimmy's soul having long since moved on). He felt warm in a new way, and the erection that normally only plagued him each morning was beginning to present itself now. He wanted to lean in toward Dean, who was looking increasingly confused. He instead put his elbow on the table, and his fingertips to his mouth. There was a strange tingling in his lips and tongue. He thought it best to stop speaking for the moment.

"Uh, well," the man - that handsome, bulky, deep-voiced man just a few feet from Castiel started, "Well it's like this. It's like, first you're real nervous, even though it's nothing to be nervous about. That's just the beginnings of what they call attraction. Butterflies in your stomach." Castiel knew all too well.

"That leads to, uh, well we call it arousal, if we're gettin' technical." Castiel was pressing his fingers into his face, already well aware of the physical process, but now anxious to hear Dean explain it to him. His cock halfway stiff, but hidden by the table, and Castiel looked earnestly at his human as he spoke. "Your heart races, your blood starts pumping, and leaving out the gory details, you feel all floaty and good. But it's not a 'good' you wanna keep. It's like being hungry, or itchy. You wanna do something about it."

Dean seemed to be perfectly all right explaining all of this. Was it Castiel's imagination, or was the hunter even edging on enthusiasm?

"Well after everyone says they're game, you get to it - sex, that is. And it's like the best feeling you've ever had. Your whole entire body feels good, but it gets intense. And that just gets more and more, till you can't hold off anymore. And then, Cas, it's the best. I can't believe I let you miss out."

Castiel's mouth was watering, and he knew his eyes were wide, but Dean was looking right into them, leaning in and his hands were on the table, within easy reach, and Castiel was so ready to give in, so ready to make Dean his first, probably his only. His breaths were shallow and now he was painfully hard, bulging in his slacks, slightly drunk and so desperate he closed his eyes just to imagine Dean's lips on his.

"God Cas, you want this too." Dean's voice cut through the angel's reverie, and it was deep and thick and husky with desire. Castiel opened his eyes again, and looked right at his human, and the intent expression on his face made the angel squint and shift in his chair. He was unsure how to proceed, but then Dean stood, shoving his chair back and closing the two-step gap between himself and Castiel in a second. He pulled Castiel up off of his chair and shoved him against the wall, kissing him immediately and fiercely on the lips.

.

For Castiel, this was like fire that burned as pleasure, like being blinded by a beautiful and loving and painful and sacred light. He was floating, but fought to stay present in his physical body. His hands were clenching curtains, through which his knuckles roughly scraped the textured paint on the wall. He managed to bring them up to Dean, to tangle and crush fingers through his hair, scrape fingernails over his shoulders, grasp and pull at his shirt.

His human then pressed his entire body up against Castiel, hard, hot members pressing together through their clothing, and Dean moaned a low, primal moan.

"Cas, I never thought you would." The hunter grasped the small of Castiel's back for leverage and began grinding slowly. "I never --" Dean's breath hitched as he moved against the other. "Fuck, I never thought I'd get to touch you. Cas, do you want to go to the bed? I want to do bad things to you, Angel." Now Dean's fingers were fisted into Castiel's shirt, and his lips had moved down to the Seraphim's sensitive neck. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," and Castiel felt Dean's jaw clench against him as their hips moved. "So good you scream. Tell me you want that too, baby. Tell me."

This was more than Castiel could take. His knees were weak, he'd begun to sweat, and he could feel every one of his heartbeats throbbing in the head of his cock.

"Dean," he managed, "Yes. Now."

"Oh, baby, yes." Dean's strong arms scooped Castiel up, and he moved them in a moment to the motel queen. Castiel was on his back now, and Dean was burying his nose in Castiel's shirt, nuzzling and inhaling and moving his hands over the other's stomach, and down, deliciously close, but then back up to undo shirt buttons. Castiel had no time for it, ripping open his own shirt, needing Dean. Tie off. Needing so badly.Undershirt up and over his head.

"Please, please," the angel begged, quiet, but expectantly, with eyes tightly closed. "I need you now, Dean, I can't wait." His hips were lifting off the bed, in his effort to rub himself on Dean's leg. Castiel couldn't get the manage the right angle, and made a sound of immense frustration. "Please, do it, I need you now." Dean sat up enough to look into the angel's frantic eyes.

"Sh, I got you Cas, I'm gonna take care of you. I promise." He slid a hand down to undo Castiel's slacks, then slid his fingers lightly over the waistband of Castiel's briefs. He brushed the slick head of his arousal, peeking out and pressed to his stomach, dripping precum. Castiel couldn't help the grunt that escaped him. Dean continued to explore with his hands, softly stroking through briefs, then cupping and caressing, then touching every sweet little spot. Dean's lips were hungry, but his hands were patient, and one more time, Castiel managed, "Please."

Dean quickly finished undressing Castiel, then knelt over the angel. Leaning down to kiss and caress Castiel's neck once again, he brought his other hand down between them and began very gently stroking. The angel moaned softly, then more loudly as his hips began to buck again. His voice cracked and he arched into Dean's touch, but the stimulation maddeningly stopped.

"Ssshhit, Dean!"

"I know, angel. I got you." Dean was pulling off his own clothes, lips on Castiel's once again. His fingers came up to their kiss, and dipped in between lips, sliding under and against tongues, then they disappeared for a moment, until gloriously they found an area so sensitive, Castiel jumped up against his human as he was touched. One of Dean's fingers was gently working the little pucker; Castiel's nipples were being kissed, and sucked, softly bitten. His senses were overwhelmed, and his breathing uneven.

"Relax for me, baby, that's it. You tell me how it feels," His voice was soft as he circled and circled Castiel's entrance, nudging gently in, producing moans and whimpers. He broke his series of kisses and nibbles, reached his free hand into his duffle and produced a bottle. Sitting up and helping the writhing angel position his legs, he drizzled cool liquid onto his fingers. This he quickly spread all around Castiel's hole and began working him open in earnest. Another squirt to the shaft and the fist of Dean's other hand was around Castiel's cock. He began stroking again, soft but quick, in time with his ministrations to the angel's hole.

At this, the angel's mind went white and he let the syllables pour from his mouth, Dean's name but maybe not in Dean's native tongue, it didn't matter, it was too good to talk through. "More," "Yes," those words he tried to force out as the man's hands expertly worked to pleasure him. Then he somehow felt what was coming. Heat in his stomach started to spread and he remembered Dean's words, and the intensity was building.

Dean slowed just a little, like he knew, and Castiel whined, trying desperately to pump his cock into Dean's fist. "Is it coming soon, baby?" Dean whispered into the angel's ear.

Ragged breaths and ragged words from Castiel, all he could manage, "Yes. Yeah, yes I think so. It feels like-" his thighs and buttocks were spasming as his body tried to tense for the approaching climax, but Dean stopped touching his cock for a few moments, instead hooking one finger up, and then the angle, the rhythm, then the depth was just right. Somehow the most intense pleasure yet was now coming from inside and now it was absolutely imminent. Castiel arched up, shoulders and upper body entirely off the bed as it started. Dean blessedly started stroking him again.

"Come on, baby. There you go, come for me Angel. Tell me who you love."

And it was all happening, and Castiel was a shaking mess of orgasm, screaming for Dean and clutching and grasping, spurting rope after rope of ejaculate till finally, breathlessly it slowed. Dean was nuzzling his head under Castiel's jaw as he caught his breath, then kissing his damp forehead. "There you go, baby. I still got you." Still placing soft kisses, still touching him gently as aftershocks continued. "Love you so much, Cas. Love you so much."