Who's A Good Boy?

Untitled Part 1

Dean woke before he opened his eyes, before he even moved, and was immediately irritated. Why was he so irritated?

"Wake up, Dean!" Oh, yeah. Sam was in his kitchen.

He pulled the comforter over his head and contemplated the likelihood that his little brother would take a hike.

He heard his bedroom door open and prepared for the assault.

"Come on, Dean. I'm not going to let you wallow another day in bed. I'm taking Bones to the beach and you're coming along." Damnit, this would have been easier if Sam was angry or something.

"Dean," he singsonged, "I brought coffee."

The beach wasn't really crowded this time of year but the sun was still warm and the breeze felt nice. Dean was almost grateful Sam had convinced him to come out. It definitely took some focus off of his current mood.

He turned at the sound of his name to look down the beach and froze; his eyebrows shot up as his mouth fell open. Coming down the shoreline, right toward him, was a gorgeous man with tousled hair. He was grinning as he jogged closer.

Dean didn't recognize him, had no idea how this man knew his name. But in that moment he didn't care. He bit his bottom lip and shifted his feet as he tried to think of something witty to say.

Then the man spoke.

"Who's a good boy?" Christ Almighty, his voice was deep. It nearly gave Dean's neglected cock palpitations. And without even thinking he opened his fool mouth.

"I'm a good boy, Daddy." He wasn't even sure it came out that loud at first, but then the stranger's step faltered as his eyebrows knitted together and he tilted his head curiously.

The smile didn't leave his face as he came to a stop a few feet from Dean and started to bend down.

Then a large, wet, furry creature nearly barreled him over. Suddenly Dean couldn't breathe.

"Good boy, Bee," he said scratching the dog and squinting up at Dean. His heart stuttered in his chest and he wasn't sure if it was the undivided attention of clear blue eyes or the fact that he'd called this stranger Daddy. Dean was ready to turn and run back to Sam's car when the guy stood slowly, keeping him pinned with his gaze.

He still had the half-smile on his lips and that cute tilt to his head and Dean couldn't help but feel he was being appraised. And that only made the situation in his pants worse.

"Hello, I'm Castiel." He reached out with a sure hand, maintaining eye contact. Dean pressed his lips together and lowered his eyes to Castiel's hand before taking it and giving it a strong but quick shake.

The man, Castiel, smiled wider and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He stood staring for a moment before raising his eyebrows and looking like he was waiting for something. Dean's face warmed a bit as he realized he left Castiel hanging with his own name.

"I'm Dean," he said before shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn't fidget, he knew better, though he desperately wanted to move. He couldn't reach Castiel's eyes either, staring at his chin and wondering what the hell was going on.

"Hello, Dean." His eyes did fly up at that, to meet the amused gaze of the other man's. And fucking hell, he knew that look. "Are you here with anyone?"

"No, sir."

"Mmm, you are a good boy, aren't you?" What the ever-loving fuck?

It slammed into him then, all at once, the thought that they were standing here on a beach in the middle of the day, and Castiel was looking at him like that. Castiel's dog was circling them unevenly, sniffing at the sand and digging small holes. He hoped Sam wasn't watching.