Sarcasm or Suckage

Title: You Must Remember This
Fandoms: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: about 8000
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slight BDSM and dub-con
Beta: my always awesome dansetheblues and inbetweencabs who barely flinched when I told them I was writing bondage. And then went and did research. ILU guise!
Summary: based on prompt SPN #1024 by the amazing emlyn2 written for spn_reversebang

BEAUTFUL ART POST: here



the pic that started it all behind the cut






When he opens his eyes, he doesn’t know where he is. He blinks and sits up, looks around for something, anything familiar

But the landscape is foreign. Miles and miles of corn waving in a slight breeze that he is sure had not been there when he went to sleep.

“Good, you’re awake.”

He turns to look at the speaker. Another anomaly. The white suit and dark beard look out of place here in this sunny place.

“Do I know you?” he asks the stranger.

“You’ve known me for a very long time,” the smile that crosses the stranger’s face is fond. “Although we haven’t seen each other for a while.”

“What’s your name?”

“You can call me Chuck,” he says and sits down on the ground, cross-legged, next to him.

“What’s my name?” He suddenly realizes that he doesn’t know.

“You have a couple that you answer to,” Chuck tells him, “but I’ve always called you Castiel.”

He tries the name on his tongue. “Castiel.” It seems to fit.

“Will you tell me where I am and what I’m doing here?” Castiel looks at Chuck, hopeful and more than a little nervous.

Chuck shakes his head. “I’m afraid I can’t,” he sounds truly regretful. “But I’ve called someone - a friend, if you will. He’s going to take care of you until your memories return.”

The low growl of an engine catches Castiel’s attention and he lifts his head to see what is making that sound. He knows that noise, deep in the heart of him. But he can’t see anything over the cheerful golden heads of corn.

He looks back at Chuck. “Who is coming for me?”

Chuck smiles again; it’s warm and Castiel feels safe. “His name is Dean and he’s your destiny.”

And then he disappears.

Castiel jumps to his feet, spins in a frantic circle to see where Chuck has vanished to but he has truly gone. His heart races and he tries to calm himself down.

A door slams and then running feet and then…

“Cas?” A body slams into him, arms grabbing onto him and holding him in an almost painful embrace.

Castiel’s arms come up without thought, wrap around the waist of the man who has buried his face against his neck.

“Dean?” his voice is soft and unsure but Dean hears it.

Dean lifts his head and looks into Castiel’s eyes and there are tears in his own. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he whispers.

“I am here,” Castiel points out and Dean’s choked laugh is almost a sob.

“So I see,” he says and his hands come up to Castiel’s cheeks, holds him as he presses his forehead to Castiel’s. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel feels the need to apologize because this man obviously cares for him, but he can’t remember.

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean stays in place for a moment and then steps back. Castiel misses him immediately. “Chuck warned me that you’ve lost your memories.” He smiles and his face changes from handsome to spectacular. “I’m just happy that you’re alive.”

He takes Castiel’s arm and starts leading him out of the field. Castiel follows without protest; it feels as though he’s done this before. Following Dean feels as natural as breathing.

At the edge of the field stands a black car; long, sleek lines, brightly polished paint. She triggers a memory. “There is a plastic toy soldier in the glove compartment,” he says with certainty but looks to Dean for confirmation.

The pleased smile tells him that he’s right. “Yeah,” Dean says and pulls the passenger door open. “That toy soldier ended up being really important in the larger scheme of things.”

Castiel gets into the car and feels a sense of displacement. When Dean gets in behind the wheel, he turns to him. “I am not the one who sits here, am I?”

Dean’s smile dims. “No,” he admits. “Sammy’s usually there.”

“Sammy,” Castiel tries the name and it isn’t quite right. “Sam.”

Dean nods. “My brother,” he clarifies.

“He is not with you?” Castiel asks.

Dean shakes his head. “He’s…not been well. He’s staying with a friend for a while.”

Castiel doesn’t understand but he nods anyway. “I’m sorry,” he offers.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean starts the car and pulls back onto the road. Castiel thinks that there is more to Sam’s absence than Dean is saying. But he doesn’t ask.

“Cas,” he tries the short form of his name and finds it pleasing. “You are the one who gave me that name.”

Dean sends him a pleased smile. “Yeah, not that you ever admitted liking it.”

“I like it,” Castiel tells him. The smile Dean gives him this time feels like a reward.

He watches the miles of golden corn pass for what seems like hours. Dean sits silent behind the wheel.

“Where are we going?” Castiel asks eventually, when the golden fields turn to asphalt highway and electricity lines.

“We’re going to see a friend,” Dean’s tone is sombre. “I’m hoping he can help you remember.”

“Who is this friend?” Castiel asks, hoping that a new name will strike a spark of memory.

“You’ve not met him,” Dean keeps his eyes on the road. “He’s an old friend of the family.”

Castiel nods, prepared to wait. His mind is a swirl of murky clouds. “Chuck said that you are my destiny.”

The car swerves a little on the road and wide green eyes stare at him. “Chuck said what?”

“He told me that you were coming to get me and that you were my destiny.” Castiel clings to the hope that Dean will know more than he does about this.

“Chuck is full of shit,” Dean mutters.

Castiel feels his shoulders slump.

“Aw, Cas, don’t look like that,” Dean pulls the car off the highway, flipping off the driver who hoots angrily at him. He turns in his seat and takes a breath. “Did Chuck tell you who you are?”

Castiel shakes his head. “He said he knew me.”

Dean puffs out a short, unamused laugh. “That’s fucking rich.”

“What?” Castiel asks. “Who is he?”

“Let’s just say that he’s a relative of yours,” Dean hedges.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

Dean shakes his head. “Chuck said that I have to help you remember, not tell you.”

Castiel sighs. “And your friend can help?”

“Let’s just say, he’s got an ear in high places.”

Dean sets off again, refusing to say anything more and Castiel whiles the time away by changing the radio channels, listening for news until he thinks Dean’s jaw will crack from being clenched so hard. He’s learnt that Dean does not like country music.

Eventually they pull up to a church in a remote spot. It looks small and run-down.

Dean clambers out of the car and smiles at the trim older man who comes out to meet them.

“Dean,” he holds out his arms and Dean walks into them, comfortable and relaxed. Castiel has to remind himself that he has no claim on Dean.

“Padre,” Dean murmurs and Castiel watches the lines of tension in his body leak out as though someone has opened a valve.

“My Dean,” the man holds him close and Castiel wishes the feeling of possession away.

Dean pulls back and motions Castiel forward. “This is Castiel.”

The man looks intently at Castiel, eyes liquid-dark and deep. “He is lost,” he says and looks at Dean.

“I need you to help me try to get him to remember who he is,” Dean’s voice is whisper-soft.

“He is important to you?” the faint Spanish accent makes the words sound like something more to Castiel.

“Along with Sam and Bobby, he’s the most important person in my life,” Dean sounds sure. Castiel feels a little wobbly.

Padre smiles and asks, “What is your name, my son?”

“I am told that I am Castiel,” and it is somehow the easiest thing he’s ever done to lean down into that embrace.

“I’m Father Lopez but everyone calls me Papa or Padre,” he smiles, his hands are rough on Castiel’s cheeks. “You’ve been through much, my son.”

“I don’t really remember,” Castiel admits and then Dean is beside him, his tall, comforting presence makes him feel safe enough to relax. It does not go unnoticed.

“You care for Dean?” Padre asks.

“He’s all I know in this world,” Castiel’s honesty is greeted with a smile.

“I think he’s been all you’ve known in this world for a very long time.” That cryptic announcement is followed by an invitation to come inside.

Castiel doesn’t understand, but he trusts Dean and so he follows them into the small church. He stops and looks up at the stained glass window. It’s a picture of a man, arms outstretched and a sort of agonized ecstasy on his face. “Who is that?”

Padre’s small chuckle is genuine. “That is the one who inspires us all, my son.”

Castiel is confused and he looks at Dean.

“I don’t really believe in him so I’m the wrong guy to ask,” Dean sounds almost apologetic.

Padre snorts. “I should take the cane to your behind for that, Dean Winchester.”

Castiel still doesn’t understand. Padre takes pity on him. “That is Christ, the son of the living God.”

Castiel stares at the window as the last rays of sun turn the pane to blinding light. “Michael,” he murmurs.

“What?” Dean is close by and he leans in. Castiel smells sweat and oil and something that he thinks he will always know is Dean.

“Nothing,” Castiel shakes his head and they follow Padre into the back of the church to a small living space that seems no bigger than the interior of Dean’s car.

Castiel inspects it as intently as he inspected the car and the church. “You live here?”

Padre smiles. “I need to be available for my sheep.”

“Sheep?” Castiel has a sudden vision of white, fluffy four-legged creatures and wants to tell Dean that he has retrieved a memory. That he’s remembering on his own.

“The flock under my care,” Padre explains. Castiel still thinks he may not understand what Padre is saying.

“People, Cas,” Dean bumps his shoulder. “He’s talking about people who come to the church to worship God.”

“Oh,” Castiel wonders about God. “Is God a popular person then?”

Dean’s laugh is not pretty and Castiel knows that he’s said something wrong.

Padre pats his arm gently, ignoring Dean. “I’ve got something for you,” he says and heads into a back room.

Dean is at the door, looking like he’s wanting to bolt. “You should go if you have things to do,” Castiel tells him, not wanting to be a burden.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again, Cas,” Dean’s words are like bruises to Castiel’s skin. He knows that there is more to their story. Somehow he knows that there are things he should apologize for.

“Tell me what I did,” he says suddenly, stepping closer to Dean. “Tell me how to make it right between us.”

Dean’s breath hits his cheek; it’s hot and sweet and Castiel wants to breathe it in, take it inside him and make it a part of him. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Dean’s response is a lie. Castiel knows it’s a lie.

“I cannot make it right unless you tell me,” he urges, desperate.

Dean looks at him, bright green gaze like a truth serum. “I don’t care what you did, Cas. I’m just so fucking grateful to have you back.”

“But if I remember…” Castiel trails off, suddenly afraid. “Will you still care for me?”

“You are my family,” Dean’s hands come up and land on Castiel’s shoulders. The heat of them is warm, assuring. “There is nothing you could do to make me stop lov…caring about you.”

Castiel hears the slip of the tongue.

He lets it lie.

Padre comes back into the room and stops when he sees them standing so close. “Am I interrupting?” he asks and it’s not sly or snide.

“No, sir,” Dean steps back and nudges Castiel towards the priest. “What’s that?” Dean points to the cloth-bound book in Padre’s hands.

The book is big and when Padre puts it down on the kitchen table, dust flies up. “This is the Book of Men.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that one,” Dean says and peers over Padre’s shoulder. “Have you been keeping things from me, Padre?” The question is only half teasing but Castiel can hear the genuine query in his tone.

“I only got this about five years ago, Dean,” Padre’s expression is fond exasperation. “John Winchester has much to answer for by making you so paranoid and suspicious.”

“Hey,” Dean protested. “Paranoia has kept me alive.”

Padre’s face grows sad. “I know that you and Sam have saved many lives, but part of me wishes that you had never entered this life.”

“What life?” Castiel asks and they both stare at him as though they’d forgotten he was there.

“Um,” Dean says and looks at Padre.

“Hopefully something in this book will help explain what’s happened to you, Castiel.” Padre neatly sidesteps the question and hefts the book open. He holds his hands over it and murmurs, “Verum invenire.”

“Find the truth?” Castiel realizes that he understands the words only after Dean’s gaze focuses on him.

“You can’t remember your name, but you can understand Latin,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Fucking figures. Sorry Padre.” He flicks an apologetic glance at the priest. Padre just shrugs. He seems accustomed to Dean’s profanity.

The pages of the book suddenly start fluttering as though someone is paging through it rapidly. Castiel’s heart is beating so fast and hard that he’s sure that Dean can hear it. The book falls open and Padre leans over it, peering down at the pages that have been revealed.

“Hm,” he muses and then falls silent.

Castiel can practically feel Dean vibrating with anticipation. “Hm, what?” he demands. “Is that a good ‘hm’ or a bad ‘hm’?”

Padre looks up at Castiel. “You are not in your own body,” he says.

Dean opens his mouth and then shuts it again.

Castiel frowns. “It is the body I woke up in.” He isn’t sure what else to say.

Padre frowns. “You are the reason the Leviathans are in the world.” He looks at Dean. “Why did you not tell me this?”

“Oh shit,” Dean spins in a circle and throws his hands in the air.

“Leviathans?” Castiel feels a sick twist in his stomach. “I know that name.” He looks at Dean. “Why do I know that name?”

Padre steps around the table and walks up to Castiel. “They were here,” he presses his hand against Castiel’s chest. “You need to get rid of their poison before you can remember.”

Dean moves to Castiel’s side. “What poison? How do we get rid of it?”

Padre watches Castiel. “I don’t know of anyone who could help you with this,” he admits.

“Just tell me what to do!” Dean shouts and Padre levels a glare at him.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Dean.”

Dean flushes. “Sorry, Padre, but this is important.” His cheeks burn hot. “Cas is important.”

Padre’s face softens. “I know that, of course I know that. That’s why you came to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Castiel’s head is hurting. It feels like a thousand butterflies are battering at the inside of his skull.

“Cas?” Dean puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You don’t look so great, buddy.”

Padre comes nearer, eyes dark with concern. “His memories are returning, Dean. You have to cleanse him of the Leviathan’s poison before he remembers.”

“Why?” Castiel asks.

“Because the Leviathans are the purest of evil. If even the smallest piece resides within you it can corrupt.” Padre looks at them impatiently when it’s clear that they’re not following. “Castiel, without his memories, is as close to a pure soul as someone can be. For now, the sliver of the Leviathans that remains in him is dormant.” He touches Castiel. “But if you should remember…”

Dean starts going pale. “Okay, I’m getting it, if Cas gets his memory back while the poison is still in him…” His eyes went wild. “How do we get rid of it?”

Padre goes back to the book. “I think there is a ritual.” He turns the page and his ears go pink. “Oh.”

Dean rushes over to him. “Oh what?” He looms over Padre’s shoulder, trying to read. “I should have paid more attention. Sammy’s the Latin fundi.”

Castiel walks over to the table and turns the book around. “Gustum verae dilectionis.” He looks at Padre. “I’m not sure what that means.”

Dean waves a hand in his face. “Hey, Memento, what does it say?”

“The translation is taste of true love,” Castiel says and Dean looks blank. “That is why I told Padre that I wasn’t sure what it meant.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Dean starts pacing the kitchen. “Taste of true love…” He stops. “Pie!” He beams at Cas and Padre who both stare at him. “That’s my true love, right?”

Castiel has a flash of memory, of Dean eating a piece of apple pie with an expression of pure bliss on his face. He winces as something claws at his belly.

Padre sees it. “Stop thinking about your true love, Dean and try and think of what Castiel’s would be.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again. “Well, shit, anything I say might trigger his memories.” He eyes Padre. “Pie would help the thinking process.”

Padre barely refrains from rolling his eyes but he goes to the fridge and pulls out a banana cream pie. “I knew you were coming, so I made sure I was prepared,” he tells a delighted Dean when he sets a piece in front of him.

Castiel watches Dean and thinks that there may well be nothing more beautiful in the world than Dean eating pie. His eyes close and he savours each mouthful as though it is ambrosia.

Dean opens his eyes and his gaze meets Castiel’s. It’s like a punch to Castiel’s chest, the memory this time: Castiel shoving Dean up against a wall, telling him that he’d done everything for Dean.

“You are,” he says softly and Dean’s eyes widen.

“I am what?” he asks and it should be disgusting - his mouth is full of half-eaten food - but it makes Castiel smile.

“You are my true love,” he tells Dean.

Dean about chokes to death on his pie.

Padre pounds him helpfully on his back and watches Castiel.

“What must I do?” Castiel asks Padre and they both look down at the book.

“Sapor autem uera dilectio mundabo anima tua.” Castiel frowns. “That makes no sense.”

Padre’s cheeks seem a little flushed. “I think it means that you will have to experience the pleasure of true love in order to rid yourself of the poison.”

They both turn to look at Dean who is relentlessly shoving another bite of pie in his mouth. “What?” he asks, blatantly ignoring the unspoken elephant in the room.

“I think perhaps it is a good thing I cannot remember all the things that I am sure annoy me about him,” Castiel tells Padre.

Padre sighs. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”

“Hey!” Dean protests. “I’m fucking awesome. Sorry Padre.” He waves his spoon at them. “So what is the big thing you have to do so that you can be Leviathan-free Cas again?”

“Were you not listening?” Castiel asks.

“Pie,” Dean points down as though it’s explanation enough.

“Castiel’s true love is you, Dean.” Padre sounds exasperated.

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean’s face is red but he carries on eating and talking. “What’s that got to do with the poison?”

“Only the taste of true love can cleanse Castiel’s soul of the taint of Leviathan.” Padre is talking slowly as though to a child.

“So what?” Dean lifts his spoon again and it stops halfway to his mouth. “Wait. He has to TASTE me?”

Castiel doesn’t remember much laughter but this makes him laugh. Dean sputters and his pie is forgotten as he stalks back to flip through the book.

“The Book of Men doesn’t work that way, Dean.” Padre pushes him gently away.

“What if I don’t want to be tasted?” Dean’s brows are furrowed and his mouth is tight.

“Perhaps you can taste me?” Castiel offers and Dean makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a squeak.

“There will be no tasting of any sort!” Dean steps back from Castiel as though he’s afraid Castiel’s going to explode into a feeding frenzy.

“I’ve made up your rooms in the old chapel,” Padre tells them when they don’t say anything more. “Perhaps if we sleep on it, the answer will come to us by morning.”

Dean and Castiel follow Padre out the back of the church, across a courtyard to a tiny chapel. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.” Castiel can feel Padre’s discomfort. Dean remains silent, walking on the other side of the priest, as far as possible from Castiel.

They walk through a large stone archway to an open door. Castiel steps into the chapel and looks around. It’s a spare room with two single beds at the far end and a big gas lantern flickering near the bathroom door.

“It’s not much,” Padre says.

“It’s better than a lot of the motels Sammy and I have stayed in,” Dean sits down on one of the beds, folding his arms and appearing a little uncomfortable. “It’ll do fine.”

Padre smiles and turns to leave. Castiel walks back out with him and Padre looks at Castiel. “You don’t have long,” he says in a low voice.

“I know,” Castiel replies, the shards of memory coming faster now and the Leviathan’s poison eating at him from the inside.

“He’ll do whatever is needed to save you.”

“I know,” Castiel says. “I won’t let him sacrifice himself for me, though.”

Padre pats his arm. “Dean’s a grown man, Castiel. Allow him the courtesy of making his own choices.”

Castiel nods and turns to go back inside. He will not allow Dean to do anything he is uncomfortable with.

Dean is lying on the bed and his eyes are closed. “I have excellent hearing,” he announces to the room in general. His boots and socks are in a heap on the floor and the line of his body is taut.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” Castiel tells him.

Dean sits up and swings his feet to the floor. “If the taste of true love thing is what’s going to set you free, then what do you need me to do?” It’s that simple for Dean, Castiel realises. Problem, solution, fix it.

Castiel smiles. “What do you think that means?”

Dean stands up and walks to where Castiel is standing in the doorway. The moonlight coming through the arch catches Dean’s skin and lights him up in pale silver. He’s staggeringly beautiful and everything Castiel sudden realises he can have.

“It means that I’ll do whatever I need to do to save you.” Dean is so close that Castiel can feel the heat pouring off his body. “What do you want me to do?”

Castiel takes a step towards Dean and leans forward, hesitant and afraid, and presses a soft kiss against Dean’s mouth. “Everything,” he whispers. “I want you to do everything.”

Dean laughs suddenly, slightly bitter as he asks, “If I said that this was the place I was always afraid we’d end up at, would you believe me?”

Castiel’s eyes remain intent on Dean’s face. “I trust you,” he says and Dean turns serious.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean asks.

“Yes,” Castiel says and Dean’s mouth is on his. This time there is no fear, no hesitation; it’s hot and slick, Dean’s tongue pressing against his lips for entrance until Castiel opens up and allows him to sweep in and take over.

“Cas,” Dean gasps against his mouth. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him against him so that he can feel Dean’s body from shoulder to knee. Dean’s cock is hard against Castiel’s thigh and he thinks that this at least means Dean is not averse to his touch.

“Can I taste you?” Dean asks.

Castiel’s heart almost stops and he can only nod as Dean sinks to his knees in front of him. He can’t help smiling as Dean looks up at him.

“Chuck is a dick,” Dean tells him as he stares up at him, one hand fisted in the fabric of Castiel’s trenchcoat.

Castiel notices the wet shine in Dean’s eyes and tries to follow Dean’s train of thought.

Dean points at Castiel’s coat. “He brought you back in that coat.”

“Brought me back?” Castiel looks at Dean, who hunches his shoulders.

“Never mind,” Dean says but his gaze stays on Castiel’s coat. “It was the only thing I had to remember you by once you left.” There is a wealth of emotion behind those words and Castiel resolves to find out what they mean. But later. Much later.

He takes a step forward and Dean lifts his hands. “What are you doing?” Castiel asks.

Dean’s mouth opens and closes several times, drops his hands to rest on his thighs. His cheeks are flushed. “I…” he stops and takes a deep breath. “I’m not a good guy, Cas,” he confesses.

“I find that hard to believe,” Castiel says.

Dean shakes his head. “I’ve done things, terrible things and maybe this isn’t just about you, maybe this is about me too.”

Castiel wants to reach out but there’s something untouchable about Dean in this position. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“I know,” Dean holds up his hands again. “I just want you to know that we’re both in this, together.”

Castiel nods slowly. “Very well,” he says.

“So I guess before we go any further, I’m just saying that I want you to forgive me,” Dean says and his kneeling position in front of Castiel is penitent.

Castiel frowns. “But you’ve not done anything that warrants my forgiveness.”

Dean’s mouth twists. “Trust me, once we’re done here and your memories come back, there’s going to be plenty things you’re going to be pissed off at me about.”

Castiel wonders if perhaps forgiveness in Dean’s mind is equated with pain. He thinks that Dean is the sort who would punish himself for perceived mistakes. “Should I punish you now so that we can get that part of the night over with?” Castiel doesn’t know where the words come from but Dean’s breath comes faster, confirming Castiel’s suspicions.

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you back, Cas,” Dean looks up at him from beneath long eyelashes. It’s arousing and disturbing at the same time. “I’ll talk you through everything.”

“Alright,” Castiel says.

Dean smiles and it’s like a sunrise. “I think we should have a safeword, just in case.”

“Safeword?” Castiel doesn’t understand.

“If I say ‘Crowley’, then you stop.”

Castiel doesn’t understand the reference. “Crowley?”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s a douchebag I used to know.” Castiel thinks there is more to the story but Dean asks, “Deal?”

Castiel’s reply is dark and low. “Deal.”

“I need to restrain you, any objections?” Castiel asks Dean and something dark flickers behind Dean’s startled green eyes when he looks back up at him. Castiel knows he’s right about Dean. Will almost always be right about Dean.

“You don’t need to,” Dean says, “but I think perhaps you’re the only person I would ever trust to do it.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow, suddenly feeling completely in control. “Take off my belt then,” he instructs Dean.

Dean hastens to obey, fingers clumsy in their eagerness and Castiel remains dead still while Dean fumbles.

Castiel’s cock is hard and straining but he keeps his face impassive. The sight of Dean kneeling in front of him is almost overwhelming.

Dean pulls the belt from the loops of Castiel’s pants and offers it to Castiel, head bowed. “Use this.” His hands remain held up when Castiel takes his belt.

“Are you sure?” Castiel hears his own voice and it’s rough, a little desperate.

“Yes,” Dean’s eyes are clear and certain.

Dean drops his hands behind his back and Castiel moves behind him, bending to wrap the belt a couple of times around Dean’s wrists. Dean gasps and leans back into Castiel’s touch.

He can feel the jerk-shudder of Dean’s breath as he pulls the belt through the buckle and tightens it around Dean’s wrists. “Tell me, Dean, is that too tight?” he asks, knowing the answer already.

“No,” Dean’s head drops forward, the nape of his neck a vulnerable invitation that Castiel cannot refuse. He bends down and kisses the bared skin softly. Dean stills, every muscle quivering as Castiel opens his mouth and sucks at the spot where he’d kissed.

“Why do you ask for penance from me, Dean Winchester?” Castiel’s question is a low growl against Dean’s skin.

“Because I let you down when you needed me the most,” Dean’s reply is soft, ashamed.

“Tell me,” Castiel orders and rests his hands on Dean’s shoulders.

“I can’t,” Dean says. “You can’t remember until the poison is out of your body.” Castiel isn’t sure but Dean sounds almost glad about that.

Castiel looks down at Dean, kneeling in front of him, his body a curve that calls to him. “You are what I have wanted all my life, I think,” Castiel reaches down and pulls Dean’s t-shirt up over his head, tugs it down his arms so that it forms a second bond to the belt. Dean’s bound hands sit in the small of his back, fists clenched and white.

Dean shudders and sucks in a breath when Castiel runs his hands from Dean’s shoulders down his chest to his nipples. The small nubs are hard and Castiel twists them slowly, carefully between his fingers, wondering how he has this knowledge. “Have we done this before?” he enquires.

Dean’s headshake is slow. “Never.”

“Why not?” Castiel’s hands rub idle circles across the planes of Dean’s pectoral muscles.

Dean leans back a little, lifts up his head and presses against Castiel’s cock. “We were never like this.”

Castiel leans down to take Dean’s mouth in a brief kiss. “That feels like a lie.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but Castiel’s next kiss is hard and bruising. “Quiet,” he tells Dean, “from this point on you should only speak if I hurt you, if I’m doing something wrong, if you like what I’m doing or if you need something more from me.”

Dean’s eyes close and he relaxes back into Castiel, body entirely given over to his keeping. “Whatever you want, Cas,” and he’s a beautiful work of art in Castiel’s arms.

Castiel dips his head to the curve of flesh and bone between Dean’s neck and shoulder, and bites down hard until he can feel the almost-give of Dean’s skin beneath his teeth. Dean is shaking as Castiel moves one hand from his chest down to the front of his jeans. He’s hard and hot and Castiel wants to touch and taste every part of him.

He kneels behind Dean now, knees on either side of Dean’s hips and pulls him back, neck stretched so that the line from chin to throat is exposed. Dean’s body obeys his every wish and his lashes are dark against his pale cheeks.

Castiel puts one arm under Dean’s and wraps it around his chest, lifting Dean slightly so that his ass is lodged against Castiel’s cock. They’re still clothed but Dean makes a short, breathy sound that is half moan, half groan, and Castiel feels his own body heat and harden.

“Cas,” Dean turns his head slightly so that he can reach out with his tongue and lave the rough skin beneath Castiel’s chin.

“What do you want?” Castiel whispers into Dean’s ear and then nips at his earlobe. Dean shudders in his arms.

“You.”

One word, needy, honest. Castiel moves his hand to the front of Dean’s denims again, deftly undoing the button, pulling down the zip and finding skin. Dean tries to buck up into Castiel’s hand but he’s held in place by a strong arm.

“No,” Castiel orders and Dean stops moving. Castiel has a flash of memory, fingers on skin and fills his hand with Dean’s length. He’s iron-hard and burning hot to the touch and Castiel swipes his thumb over the wet tip. Dean gasps and he pushes his face against Castiel’s neck, trying to find something to hold on to.

Castiel moves his hand slowly, stripping Dean’s cock and listening to his broken sounds of begging. “Please, Cas, please.”

Castiel is still fully dressed and the scrape-hiss of Dean’s skin against his shirt and coat makes him shiver. He lets Dean go for a moment and allows him to slump back against him while he pulls the coat off. Dean makes a protesting noise when he jostles him, trying to get to the buttons of his shirt. Castiel hears cloth tear as he pulls, then it’s Dean’s skin against his own and he sucks in a breath.

“This,” Dean tells him and he sounds ruined, “this is maybe what we were always meant to be.”

Castiel doesn’t remember what they were but he knows that the world could end right now and nothing will stop this from happening. “Take your pants off,” he orders and shoves at Dean’s jeans so that they’re falling below his hips, sitting on his thighs. “I need to feel you against me.” Dean kicks out and Castiel helps him to wriggle out of his jeans despite the uncomfortable position. Then Castiel’s jerking Dean’s cock so slowly that Dean cries out at the sharp pleasure-pain of it.

“No more,” Dean begs and he wriggles his fingers behind him and somehow finds the zipper of Castiel’s pants. Slick and quick, he’s pulled it down and reaching inside before Castiel can tell him not to.

Castiel arches up into those calloused, clever fingers and he’s close to coming right there. “No,” he commands Dean and reaches down to pull Dean’s hands away. “Not like this. You don’t get to touch me yet.” His fingers tighten on Dean’s wrist and he can see the shudder that ripples across Dean’s body.

“You like this,” he’s dazzled at the thought and Dean freezes. “You will do whatever I ask of you, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Dean hisses and Castiel allows himself a smile.

He forces Dean forward onto his knees and Dean folds over, graceful and pliant. Dean feels like a statue, hard and smooth and almost inhumanely lovely.

Castiel runs his hands over him, feels the weight of Dean’s balls in his hand. He sucks and licks his way down the bumpy line of Dean’s spine, pausing at the high rise of buttocks. He bites down on one smooth cheek, bending over Dean in an uncomfortable position. Dean jerks once but stays still as Castiel moves lower, to the crease of Dean’s ass.

He can’t help himself. He presses his face close and breathes in the essence of everything Dean is.

“No more, Cas, please.” The cracked voice is like music in his ears and Castiel pulls at his own pants so that they fall to just past his thighs.

He pushes between Dean’s shoulder blades so that he falls off balance, into the firm grasp of Castiel’s other hand. He’s strong, he realises, stronger than Dean, and he knows that this is important. But the noise that Dean makes when Castiel crowds up behind him distracts him, calls to him and he leans forward to press a warm kiss on Dean’s back.

“I’m not sure what to do,” he admits and Dean gives a strangled laugh.

“Back pocket,” he tells Castiel. “Wallet, sachet of lube and a condom.”

Castiel briefly hates the nameless people that Dean has done this with before but he reaches for the jeans, finds the wallet, and fumbles the two small packets out.

“Lube first,” Dean instructs and Castiel lifts the packet to his mouth, rips it with his teeth and the slick, slightly oily liquid oozes out onto his hand. He brings it to his nose and it smells of nothing.

Dean chokes out another laugh and then says, “You’ll need to prep me, open me up.”

Castiel thinks for a moment and then realises what he has to do. “It will hurt?” He doesn’t care too much, he realises.

“Probably, it’s been a hell of a long time,” Dean says, “but this is fucking worth it.”

Thoughtfully, Castiel moves his free hand down to the shadowy space between Dean’s ass cheeks. The quiver of muscle when he touches the small hole tells him that Dean is nervous. “We don’t have to…” he begins, never wanting to stop touching Dean.

“I want this,” Dean assures him and he turns his head, still held half forward by the strength of Castiel’s other hand. “Just do it.”

Castiel pulls Dean back up onto his knees and then tears at the t-shirt and belt binding Dean’s hands. “I want to be able to touch you without worrying about breaking you,” he says when Dean looks at him with a question in his eyes.

“On your knees.” Castiel hears his voice, realises that he sounds different, desperate and his blood boils hot at how quickly Dean obeys. “You don’t do this for everyone,” he notes.

“I don’t do this for anyone,” Dean corrects him, “I’m usually the one in charge,” and Castiel feels a wave of possession roll over him. This man is his and something twists at the possibility of Dean giving himself to anyone else but him again.

“It should remain that way,” Castiel says and he presses his finger inside. Dean flinches against the breach but doesn’t pull away. Castiel feels Dean’s muscles clench around his finger and the sheer logistics of it makes him stop.

“What?” Dean sounds wrecked and he blinks at Castiel over his shoulder.

“This cannot work,” Castiel shakes his head. “It will not fit.” He thinks that he would damage Dean.

Dean’s laugh is slightly strangled. “Oh my god, you’re going to drive me insane.” He pushes himself back against Castiel and his finger sinks deeper. “You need more than one finger to prepare me, that’s what the lube is for.”

“Oh,” Castiel looks down at his hand. Then he presses a second finger into Dean and separates them, stretching Dean.

Dean sucks in a breath and then blows it out again. “Yeah, like that,” he gasps, straining against Castiel’s hand.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks, forgetting the darkness that crowded his mind when Dean was kneeling in front of him , bound at his feet.

“It burns,” Dean admits, “but if you just move your finger…” Castiel moves, “there, god, yes, there,” Dean bucks against him. “Fuck, Cas, yeah, there!”

Castiel holds Dean down with his hand and adds a third finger to Dean’s hole. It’s a tight fit and Dean shudders, but he remains still as Castiel experiments with moving his fingers inside him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Castiel stops his movements when he hears the almost sobbing sounds that Dean is making.

“You’re not,” Dean assures him. “Fuck, Cas, it feels fucking amazing and I need more.”

Something punches into Castiel’s stomach and scrapes down the inside of his skin. Castiel screams in pain and pulls away from Dean, falls onto the ground and curls up onto his side.

Dean is up and next to him a heartbeat later. “Cas!” his voice is urgent, worried.

“The poison of the Leviathans, I think it’s trying to get out,” Castiel looks up into Dean’s eyes.

Dean helps him to sit up and then rocks back on his heels. “Well, then I guess we’d better get this show on the road,” his smile is hard and his eyes are bright. Castiel feels something between love and worship rush through him.

“I think I love you, Dean,” he says.

“And I think that’s something we should talk about when you remember who you are,” Dean tells him and he reaches down to pick up the other small packet. He tears it open and carefully rolls the condom down Castiel’s rigid cock. “Come on, let’s finish this.” He turns his back on Castiel and presents himself - an altar, an offering.

Castiel is moving before Dean has even completed the sentence. His fingers dig deep into Dean’s hips and he lines himself up. Dean is tight, muscles resisting Castiel’s entrance, but he persists. His movements are slow, careful until Dean reaches around with one hand and pulls Castiel closer.

“Hurry,” Dean says, raw and ragged.

Castiel pushes forward again and this time he slides in, hot and hard and home. He holds still, allowing Dean to adjust to him and then his body reminds him that he needs to move again.

He can’t stop the noise he makes when he pulls back, almost completely out and then pushes his way back in again. It becomes a dance then, Dean pushing back against him when he plunges forward. There’s nothing graceful about them though. It’s rough and mad and Castiel feels his skin stretching, burning, breaking apart as his release erupts from him.

He feels Dean’s body clutch at him as he reaches his own climax. He drops forward, body a dead weight against Dean’s back.

“Move,” Dean grunts and there is no more urgency, just a lazy satiation that runs through him like a thick river.

The clawing pain in his belly is gone and Castiel takes a clean breath for the first time.

Dean pushes at him and Castiel rocks back and slips out of Dean. He looks down at himself and freezes.

“What’s wrong?” Dean can obviously feel the stillness of Castiel’s body and he turns around. The condom is a black stain against his body. “Holy shit,” Dean says and reaches out to touch the latex sac.

“No,” Castiel stops his hand and staggers to his feet, holding the base of his cock and the condom in place. He walks over to the gas lamp and pulls off the glass container. The bright flames dance in front of his eyes as he carefully slides the condom off, keeping the black liquid locked inside.

“Burning it?” Dean’s question comes at Castiel’s shoulder and he meets his gaze.

“Yes,” Castiel says. “It seems like the right thing to do.”

Dean looks at the flame. “Don’t know if that’s going to work, Cas, maybe let me build a bigger fire in the courtyard?”

Castiel shakes his head. “It will do, I think. It’s not as though there are fountains of liquid.”

Dean snorts and he’s back to the cocky bravado of before. “Okay, we’ll try it your way.”

Castiel nods and then drops the tied-off condom into the flame. There is a hissing noise and then the sound of screaming fills the air. Castiel’s head explodes in pain and he stumbles back against Dean.

“I’ve got you,” Dean’s arms are a comforting strength and Castiel lets himself fall into Dean’s hold. He realises that the screaming is only in his head and he turns his face into Dean’s neck, breathes him in and closes his eyes.

The darkness takes him under as the shrieks grow softer and softer until Dean’s embrace becomes the one solid thing left in his world.

Castiel opens his eyes the next morning and the sun is shining in his face. Something is tickling his chin and he looks down at a messy head of hair.

It all comes flooding back. Dean, Sam, Lucifer, Crowley, the Leviathans.

He stiffens. The Leviathans are out there in the world and he’s the one responsible for letting them out.

“Stop thinking so hard, you’re giving me a headache.” Dean’s morning voice is a husky rumble and Castiel doesn’t move.

Dean lifts his head and stares into his eyes. “That you in there, Cas?”

Castiel nods and Dean smiles. “It’s about fucking time, bird-brain.” He puts his head back down and presses a kiss at the spot where Castiel’s heart feels like its trying to escape its bounds. “Now, let’s get showered and dressed and go fix Sammy.”

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Castiel croaks.

Dean lifts his head again and his face is sombre. “We’ve both done shit we regret, Cas.” He’s speaking carefully, measuring his words in a way Castiel can’t remember him doing. “Last night was about being sorry and getting forgiveness.”

“And that’s it?” Castiel asks, knowing that nothing to do with Dean Winchester is ever this easy.

“Of course that’s not it,” Dean snorts. “You are going to owe me blowjobs forever.” He grins.

Castiel stares at Dean, thinking. “I can do that,” he agrees.

There’s a knock at the door and they sit up. Dean scrambles off the bed and lunges for his jeans. “Get dressed,” he hisses and Castiel obeys. He thinks that he has been obeying Dean for a very long time. He thinks about Chuck and then flushes.

“What?” Dean asks, seeing the blush.

“Chuck is God,” Castiel explains as he pulls on his shirt.

“Yeah,” Dean admits and goes to open the door. “Your Dad wanted you to have hot monkey sex with me.”

Padre has a tray of fruit and a flask with him. “I thought you might be hungry.” His cheeks are bright red and Castiel watches the realisation dawn on Dean’s face that he has heard that last comment.

Dean takes it from him but keeps his body between the priest and the room. “Thanks, Padre,” he says and it’s a clear invitation to leave.

Padre doesn’t move though, and his eyes meet Castiel’s. “You remember?” he asks.

Castiel nods and places a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It appears that Dean is my salvation,” he says and Dean rolls his eyes but his cheeks are still a little pink.

“Dude, enough with the hearts and flowers, okay?” Dean grouses.

Castiel squeezes and Dean stops moving. They’ve established something between them, and Castiel isn’t quite sure what it is but he means to explore it.

“Thank you,” he says to Padre.

“Whether an angel on earth or in heaven, it is my privilege to help you,” Padre makes a sort of half bow.

Castiel shakes his head. “Only do obeisance to the Lord,” he tells Padre who nods and smiles. “Besides, I would think that I count as fallen by now.”

“You will be leaving then?” Padre looks between them.

“Yeah,” Dean puts the tray down and bites into an apple. Castiel is drawn to the juice that bursts out of the fruit and he wants to taste it on Dean’s tongue.

Dean looks at him and his eyes go wide and then dark. Castiel can’t look away.

“So…uh,” Dean tries to draw his gaze back to Padre and Castiel feels the loss immediately.

“I just wanted to tell you that Bobby called me,” Padre says.

“Oh yeah?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “What did he want?”

“He told me that there is some activity in Wisconsin that you should check out,” Padre tells him.

“Always with the cryptic, that’s our Bobby,” Dean mutters and turns to go and put his shoes on.

Padre clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you prefer to take a shower first?” he asks.

Castiel can see Dean’s face and it makes the corner of his mouth tick up. “Perhaps we should,” he suggests.

Dean scowls. “Yeah, okay.” He glares at Castiel as though this is all his fault and maybe it is.

“Why don’t you go and shower,” Castiel tells Dean. “I’ll just use a bit of my angelic power and…”

Dean points a finger at him. “We are going to shower like real people!”

“Together?” Castiel asks.

Padre clears his throat again. “Perhaps you can use the shower here and Castiel can shower in my quarters,” he offers.

Castiel smiles. “That would save some time,” he agrees.

“Fine,” Dean mutters and strides to the small bathroom, “But hurry up, will you? It’s time to go save the world. Again.”

Castiel’s okay with that.

And they do.