The ride didn't take long, despite Dean doing Cass the favor of driving according to the speed limit, because: “I want us to arrive in one piece... dear!” When they're home, Castiel has to really slow Dean down, as he throws off his tie and jacket right after coming in the front door, kicking away his shoes and tugging at his belt: “Wait! I... Um... Can't we do this together? You-you said you would go easy on me!” When Dean looks into his flushed face, he's ashamed and agrees: “I'm sorry love, you're right! How selfish of me. Where would you like to start?” Cass remembers Sam's words and, with a dry voice, answers: “Your room? And could you get me some wine, I'd... I would like to drink to our engagement!” Dean's happy face makes Castiel's stomach turn, but at least the hunter is quick to oblige, rummaging in the kitchen, while Cass already goes into the bedroom.
When he sees the new sheets, lined with some rose pedals, the lump forming in his throat seems to grow to boulder size, but he tries to focus, looking around for some glass, cup or other container holding a liquid that might be the potion. He spots a chalice on the windowsill, but before he can reach it, Dean returns with a wine bottle, two glasses and a wine opener. Before opening the bottle, he holds up the corkscrew, looks at Cass with a smug smile and claims: “You know, there is a technique that's named after this lil thing! If you like, I'll show you later!”, and then, winking at the angel, continues to open the wine. He pours them each a glass and is about to hand one over, when Cass finally comes up with a way to distract him: “Wait. You're supposed to let it breathe for a while. And an... anyway, would you do me a favor?” Dean sets the glass back on the table and immediately replies: “But of course, anything my darling, what can I do for you?”
Castiel's cheeks are getting hot as he lies: “Well, you offered to... do... me... in every room, right? Would you please see to it, that all the curtains are drawn? And can you make sure, the lights are working? And... And get some candles to set the mood?” He's now very uncomfortable, but Dean beams at him, stepping close to him and taking his ringed hand to gently kiss it, before giggling: “You know angel, you're even cuter when you're being cheeky! Yeah, I'll set the mood alright! Should have thought of that myself, actually.” But when he notices Cass' trembling hand, he ever so softly plants a kiss on his cheek, just to whisper in his ear: “Don't be scared my untouched darling, I won't bite... unless you ask me to! I'll be careful and take you on this journey step by step, making sure you won't stumble or fall. There is no rush, cuz...”, he pulls back to look into Castiel's big blue eyes, “We now have all the time in the world, haven't we baby?” Cass has to work really hard to not melt down crying, but he manages to put on a friendly face and nod. Dean kisses his hand again and then rushes off to make sure the flat is set for some hardcore action that won't get noticed by the neighbors. Or at least he thinks so.
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Meanwhile, swallowing all his feelings, Castiel closes the door to have a moment of privacy. He has to relax, become whole, give in to his angel spirit to touch his wings. However, this usually puts him in a place where the other angels are connected with him, the state that the Winchester's mockingly call the angel radio. And that's the last thing he wants now. 'Please Lord, I need a part of my wing to save Dean.', he silently pleads, 'He and his brother are protecting this world from so many evils, he deserves to live, he... He has a good heart! A pure heart! Please don't let him burn if my grace touches his lips, please...'
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He finds that praying relaxes him, and without knowing how it came, Castiel is holding a tiny piece of his wings in his hands. He can feel it aching, can feel it missing from himself, hurt surging through his chest and all through his body. The pain swells and is numbing him, but then he looks at the chalice and suppresses the throes, moving fast to add the tiny piece of himself to the potion that hopefully cures his friend from the exhausting infatuation he has with him. As soon as the little 'feather' falls into the black liquid, it swirls and bubbles, turning the concoction to a bright pink instead. Cass can hear Dean's footsteps and hurries back to the table, quickly pouring the drink into the wine and throwing the chalice behind a pillow on a chair, just as Dean re-enters the bedroom.
He looks so content, eager to get on with the task at hand, setting two candles on the table, lighting them and drawing the curtain behind Castiel, shrouding them in a romantic light. Cass is breathing heavily from the agony of losing a piece of himself, but he knows that it will fade. Yet the lump in his throat, that makes inhaling hard, and the fist in his stomach, together with the throbbing pulse in his head from his eyes constantly holding back the tears that want to drown him, really put him on the brink of a breakdown. And just then, Dean again tenderly holds him from behind. But this time he isn't pressing his loins into his back, he just cuddles him, petting over his chest, rubbing his head against his neck and shoulder. It should hurt even more, this fake affection, but somehow Castiel lets it comfort him now instead.
“I've arranged everything. Are you ready, Cass?”, the hunter coos softly. The angel decides 'What the heck!' and rubs over the strong arms that hold him, explaining: “Sure love. Just the wine, I still want to have a drink first.” 'Can't hurt, no matter how this goes now.', he ponders. So when Dean releases him, he picks up his drink, waiting for the hunter to do the same. As soon as he touches the stem, Cass laconically proposes: “To us.”, raising his glass for the toast. Dean snorts a laugh, and adds: “Yeah. Short and to the point... To us. Let's fuck!” Had Cass already taken a sip of his wine, he would have spit it out in terror. But having a mouth so dry, you could drain sand of its fluids, he keeps quiet. Even still when Dean doesn't drink, but comes close again, reaching out with his spiked wine. First Cass looks puzzled, but then he understands: Dean wants him to drink from his glass and the other way around.
“No!”, Cass suddenly cries. “But... what's the matter honey?”, Dean asks with concern, pulling back the glass to set it down on the table. Dammit, he almost had it, how can Cass get him to drink? He spontaneously thinks up a lie: “No, I... would rather have us keep to the old Hebrew tradition: first the groom downs his cup, and then the... the bride downs hers. It's supposed to bring good luck.” Dean picks up his glass again, but refrains from drinking, looking at Cass with a wicked smile instead. Finally he chuckles: “So you aren't drinking with me, because... you are my bride?” Castiel's cheeks flush again and he stutters: “W-well your brother thought so anyways, so...” “Why did he think that?”, Dean shoots back. Cass answers weak: “Because I'm wearing blue, and apparently it's the brides job to do so, to symbolize virginity.” Only afterwards does he realize his words, and looks at his feet, embarrassed. “Oh. Well. Not very subtle then...”, Dean muses, the glass still hovering in front of his lips.
“Does this mean, you want to be the bottom too?”, he interrogates, raising one eyebrow, his lips curling upwards. Cass isn't sure what it means, so he simply states: “I don't care. As long as it's you, I'm fine.” Dean seems to consider this and then gives him a warm smile, observing: “I'm flattered by your trust, babe. It's nice to see you're not afraid anymore!” 'If you knew,' Castiel thinks, 'I am afraid! Afraid of losing. Losing my virginity, losing my grace, losing my faith, losing your friendship, losing your trust, but most of all, losing your life! I don't know what I'll do, if this kills you! I'm so afraid, Dean, you have no idea!' And so, since it may as well all go to hell one way or another, when Dean finally tilts his head to empty his glass, the angel, for the first time aloud, confesses to himself and the hunter: “I... love you... Dean Winchester!”
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