A companion piece to my friend Brittany's Sabriel fic, "Forgetting Last Night" (AO3: /works/462679).
It's a Saturday night, and instead of a million other more enjoyable Saturday night pastimes, the Winchester brothers are up to their eyeballs in research.
Dean can't even see Sam around the stack of books on the table in their hotel room. He's wedged between the wall and the bathroom door, reading yet another ancient text on the Great and Demonic What's-His-Nuts, and they've been researching for three and a half hours now, and Sam has been awfully quiet for the last one.
"Sammy, you awake over there?"
He tries to lean around the books at the edge of the table to where Sam is sitting and ends up with his face inches from Castiel's.
"Your brother left forty-five minutes ago."
Dean startles, knocking volumes and loose papers to the floor as he flails backward.
"Dammit, Cas! You almost gave me a freakin' heart attack."
"Sorry." Castiel picks up a few of the books and puts them back on the table in a tidy stack.
"Where the hell did Sam go?" Dean rubs at his blurry eyes. He's really not cut out for the research part, that's more Sam's thing. It's been two days since he's had to shoot or stab anything, and he wonders what it says about him that he misses fighting.
"Your brother went to the bar with Gabriel to play darts and drink copious amounts of alcohol."
"He took the car, didn't he."
When Castiel doesn't say anything, Dean shrugs on his jacket and heads for the door. But when he grabs the handle, his way is blocked by Cas.
"Dean, you need to stay here. We've got to figure out what kind of demon this is."
"We? Didn't see you hitting the books with me, Cas."
Castiel doesn't move, and Dean sighs.
"Look, I just need to get out of here for a while, okay? My ass is going numb from sitting in that damn chair, and if I have to read about one more decapitation—"
He stops when Castiel steps out of the way. That was easier than he'd thought it would be.
When Dean steps outside, he leaves the door open and walks a few feet before turning to look back, hands wedged in his jacket pockets.
"Well? You coming?"
They meander down the quiet streets. This part of the city is less crowded; the partygoers and college kids stick to downtown with its neon signs, thumping music, and watery drinks. It's a temperate night, just cool enough that Dean's glad of his jacket.
"He never answered my question."
"Huh?" Dean turns to Castiel, who has stuck his own hands in his coat pockets. Angels don't get cold. Dean smirks but doesn't mention it.
"Sam. He never told me about what happened to his neck three days ago. Gabriel told me I should ask you."
A flush creeps across Dean's neck when he realizes what the angel is talking about.
"Dean, you're blushing."
"No, I'm not!" He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Cas's eyes.
"You're embarrassed. I don't understand."
Dean stops. "You know that I'm embarrassed, but you don't know what a freakin' hickey is?"
Castiel just gives him that look, the one with his blue eyes wide and his head slightly tilted to the side. The clueless one.
"What happened to Sam's neck is your brother decided to suck on it."
There's no denying his blush now. Dean can actually see the moment Cas finally gets it.
"Oh."
Dean shoves his hands in more firmly into his pockets and starts walking again. Thank God or whoever that Cas didn't ask why anyone would want to give someone a hickey. Maybe he's worked it out for himself.
They walk in silence until they're almost back to the hotel. It's peaceful. Dean missed peaceful, during all the monster-chasing and apocalypse-preventing. It's kind of nice, he thinks.
Then Cas speaks.
"I've never kissed anyone."
"What? You're like, thousands of years old, how is that possible?"
He stops and stares at Castiel, who had been gazing upwards vaguely towards the moon but returns his eyes to Dean.
"I've been in existence for eons, Dean, but not on Earth. Not with humans, like Gabriel. It's different."
Dean walks again. "I know, heaven's fulla prudes."
He doesn't notice that Castiel hasn't caught up to him, even though the hotel is in sight. Dean glances over his shoulder, but he barely has time to turn forward again when Cas materializes in front of him, barely inches away.
"I'm not a prude, Dean."
Whatever retort Dean was preparing is cut off by Cas's hands gripping his face as the angel presses his lips to Dean's. The kiss is gentle but, surprisingly, not exactly chaste, and Dean can feel his heart lurch in his chest. His hands grip Cas's arms, but he can't quite get his brain to function enough to decide if he wants to push him away.
When Cas finally pulls back, all of Dean's nerve endings are sizzling, and for once he can't think of a damn thing to say. He should probably be outraged or something, but those blue eyes are distracting him from doing anything from staring right back and trying to catch his breath.
"Dean?" The word comes out a little breathlessly, and Dean's rarely seen the angel look as flustered as he does now.
"Jesus, Cas. That, uh, that was…"
And then Castiel absentmindedly licks his lip, and Dean couldn't care less what the hell is going on in his head right now. He grabs a fist full of trench coat right above Cas's hip and presses their mouths together again.
Whatever's left of his brain forgets that he's kissing an angel, and a very inexperienced one at that. One hand slips under the trench coat around Cas's back to hold him even closer, while the other slides up to rest on the back of his neck. He feels a shiver run through the angel under his fingers as he deepens their kiss. Cas feels boiling warm against him, and Dean licks at his lips until Cas parts them with a small gasp.
Dean finally manages to regain some semblance of control and pulls his mouth away. Cas is practically panting, having apparently forgotten that his human body needs to breathe. Not that Dean's faring much better. He sucks in a breath and sees that Cas's pupils are blown wide and his lips are blushed red.
"There are tongues involved?"
The question makes Dean want to show Castiel exactly how much tongues are indeed involved, but he musters up every remaining shard of willpower and lets the angel go. Sure, Cas may be an eons-old being, but Dean can't jump him after a few kisses when they're his first few kisses. Even if that's very much what his body would like him to do. Dean's body thinks it's about time.
"Uh…yes. There are. We should go back, you were right, there's a lot more research to do."
Cas follows him into the hotel room, not speaking while Dean hangs up his coat and rolls his sleeves back up.
"Did I do it wrong? I don't understand why you stopped."
Dean tilts his head back and scrubs his hands over his face. If Cas would just stop looking at him like that, he might be able to at least pretend to concentrate on research or something.
"No, Cas, you didn't." Dean realizes that he forgot to lock the door, but when he reaches it, he finds his back pressed to it…and Castiel pressed to his front.
"Cas, we can't."
"Why not?"
It's the most rational damn question Dean's heard all night. When he doesn't answer, Cas bends to press their lips together again, and soon they're both gasping. Dean's legs almost buckle when Cas slides his tongue to meet his. His heart feels just might give out and he wonders why the hell they haven't done this before. For someone so inexperienced, Cas is a damn good kisser.
Dean has managed to keep mostly quiet, but when Cas tentatively moves his mouth to place a sloppy kiss on that one spot on his neck, he can't help the groan that escapes him.
"Fuck, Cas."
Cas pulls back, startled by the whine in Dean's voice.
"Are you all right?"
Dean stares at him and opens his mouth to reply. And then there's a knock on the door.
Cas disappears silently, and Dean growls in frustration, turning to open the door.
Sam's standing outside, grinning drunkenly. "Gabe said I should pro'bly knock. Didn't say why. How's the research going?"
Dean grits his teeth and silently sends beams of hate out to Gabriel as he moves to let Sam in.
"Fantastic. Get in here."
It's going to be a long night.