Rewritten

Chapter 6

Bobby does look at them funny when they get back upstairs, but he doesn’t say anything. He does, however, scoff when Dean claims that the books had fallen behind the table (hoping that would be a decent enough excuse for their lateness).

Dean’s past self and Sam are still more than two and a half hours out, and there are several books and files Bobby has marked for organizing. This job would really go a lot easier if there were multiple people working, but they’ll do what they can.

After almost two hours, three different Miscellaneous folders, and five boxes of books, Bobby backs his wheelchair up and yawns. “Can’t decide if I want coffee or a nap,” he mutters, blinking and rubbing a hand down his face.

“I’ll say,” Dean agrees, tossing a few sheets of paper in the trash. “Those aren’t really worth saving – you have better information on werewolves in a couple different books.”

Cas is intent on reading a section from the beginning of a book, apparently bemused.

“Keep working,” Bobby tells him. He starts to roll out of the library. “I’m gonna go pass out. And hey,” he adds as an afterthought, curving the wheelchair so he glances back at Dean. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” He cuts his eyes over to Cas warningly; Cas doesn’t notice.

“Right, Bobby,” Dean nods. “I’ll probably get lunch started in a minute here. You want anything?”

“I’m good. I can get my own later. Just cause I can’t walk don’t mean I need a nurse. Or a chef, rather.”

Dean sets aside a fairly informative book on demonic possession. “Yeah, but you do need a maid,” he mutters under his breath.

“I heard that, boy,” Bobby says on his way out. “Don’t forget, I could charge you two for staying here. You and Sam come in my house, eat my food and drink my beer…” He rolls away, muttering to himself.

Cas sets the book on the same pile it had been on. “Dean…”

“Yeah, Cas.”

“I’m… okay with this, with you and me.” Cas doesn’t quite meet his eye, uncertain and hesitant and cautious.

Dean’s breath catches. “Me too,” he manages. Cas looks at him in wonder.

They’ve been subconsciously growing closer as they speak, and they’re only a few inches from each other now. Cas shuts his eyes, his lashes fluttering down against the omnipresent bags. Dean follows suit and then leans in to close the distance between them.

Cas is frustratingly inexperienced, obviously, and his motions are a little stiff. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands, so Dean lifts them and places them on the back of his own neck before letting his hands slide around to Cas’s back. He slides his tongue forward, not urgently, just tracing along Cas’s lips and letting him know he’s here. But Cas knows what Dean’s doing, and he opens his mouth to let him in.

They shift position, Dean gradually and carefully nudging Cas back against the couch so that they’re semi-lying down. He realizes fondly that Cas’s palms are still on the nape of his neck, and breaks the kiss barely long enough to speak. “You can move them, you know,” he says, reaching up to rub along Cas’s forearm before diving back in to the safety of Cas’s mouth.

He feels Cas’s hands drift down to hold onto the small of his back as they lie fully horizontally, Cas tucked safely under Dean. And Dean lets his kisses migrate down to Cas’s neck, loving every inch of the stubble brushing against his lips along the way and sucking gently. When he increases the pressure, Cas whimpers and his grip tightens on Dean’s skin, nails digging into the skin. He’s hard against Dean’s hip already.

Dean pulls back a little. “You’ve never even had a good necking session before, really?” he asks in astonishment. Cas shakes his head. “I mean, I knew you were basically a virgin angel, but damn…” A slight flush colors Cas’s face, and Dean pauses for a moment. “Are you okay with this, Cas? Do you want to stop?”

“Absolutely not,” Cas says throatily, a bit of annoyance in his gravelly voice. He pulls his hands out of the bottom of Dean’s shirt and reaches up to yank him closer by the backs of his shoulders.

Dean can only hope Bobby’s taking a long nap, because things are getting a little out of control. He slots his legs between Cas’s and opens his knees to open Cas’s knees before lining up against him. When he rolls his hips forward, Cas writhes up against him and calls his name in a wrecked voice. “Dean…”

Oh, he is so going to save this memory, and especially that tone, for alone time in the future. Regardless of what happens. Dean licks his way into Cas’s mouth again, slower this time, taking this chance to explore more of how Cas tastes. He damn sure better change history, because he’s not sure he can stand to be without this now that he knows how it can be between the two of them.

Dean cards his fingers in Cas’s hair, thinking how it’s longer in his time and wanting the chance to do this again when he can really fuck it up.

Cas’s hands are getting greedy now, one sliding back up under Dean’s shirt to press between his shoulder blades and the other grazing down to cup his ass. Dean breaks the kiss off and grins down at Cas. “Fast learner,” he murmurs, thinking of a certain other kiss Cas had with a demon when Dean hadn’t quite known what to do with himself as he stood by and watched.

“Get back here,” Cas all but growls, lifting his head to kiss him again.

Dean can do that.

He might be in trouble here. Cas is driving him closer and closer to the edge. He’s using his grip on Dean’s ass to pull his hips down before bumping his own up, over and over. It’s definitely awkward, and Dean can do his own hip rolls, but he goes with it because watching and feeling Cas learn is amazing.

One particular sharp drag of their bodies forces Dean to push himself up off Cas, propping himself up. “Holy shit, Cas,” he breathes. “I don’t… Oh my god.” It’s hard to find reasons why they can’t finish this, but then: Bobby. Sam. Other me. They’re all due to get back or to wake up soon, and Dean really doesn’t want to give them a show. “Gonna have to… Have to stop here.”

Cas frowns up at him. “Dean…”

“I know, it sucks, but Past Me and Sam’ll be back in…” Dean checks his watch, blinking hard when he reads the time. “Ten minutes? Damn.” He and Cas had been making out for more than half an hour – it had felt like five minutes.

“Dammit,” Cas groans, tipping his head back against the pillow. His face is red and his lips are still swollen, and Dean can’t resist diving back in to kiss him one last time.

Past Dean, he realizes, could very well undo everything. Dean’s no coward, except when he sometimes is. He can easily see his past self denying anything happened – and Cas being a little too unsure to start things with him.

“Hang on to this,” Dean pleads, grasping fistfuls of Cas’s coat. “Once I go back to my own time? Don’t let me – past me – run from this. I know him.”

“He is stubborn,” Cas laughs up at him, running a hand along Dean’s temple. “Are you sure, though?”

Dean nods fervently. “Yes. I know him, myself, Cas. You know when I knew I was sure?” Cas shakes his head. “When you blew Zachariah out of the green room. But I think something’s always been there since the barn and I couldn’t admit it till later.”

When Cas gives him the trademark Confused Squint, Dean can’t resist kissing him again, reaching down to slip his fingers around to the nape of Cas’s neck. “You walked in, all tough boring blandness—,” Cas’s lips quirk at the memory, “—and I just… fuck. I was gone, man.”

Cas kisses slowly along Dean’s jawline, making his way from Dean’s ear toward his chin. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he breathes as he goes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you were an idiot.”

Dean sighs. “So if I really change things, you and I’ll be together, but I’ll never live that spell down, will I?”

Cas reaches his chin and lightly kisses his mouth. “Nope,” he says as he prods Dean’s mouth open again.