it's all destiel now. i'm sorry

~~

With Castiel cradled on his lap, Dean's mouth is dry and his lips are swollen. He and Cas have been making out for who knows how long, both happy to relish in each other. It's still a new affair, this whole making out with each other. Sleeping with each other. Feeling Cas's hard cock through his trousers.

It's that that makes Dean think they're going somewhere with making out, but when Cas pulls back, it's not to tell Dean they need to move to the bedroom, get more comfortable, have some fun. Those are easy words to say, Cas has been saying them almost every day for a week. He's insatiable, his little angel back from the dead. No, instead Cas sniffs the air. Leans back a little, Dean's arms wrapped around his back, rocks with his thighs, loses himself in thought. He sniffs the air again, then moves closer to Dean's nose. Dean wants to take it as an invitation to kiss his angel again, distract him from whatever weird thing he's doing, but Cas pulls back right as Dean goes for his lips.

Cas puts his hand on Dean's bladder--no, just slightly above his bladder. He presses down slightly, but mostly his touch is gentle. "Cas, what the hell are you doing?" Dean demands. He's got a particular look on his face, almost the same look Sam gets when Dean hasn't taken the trash out in a while. Dean was hard, but it's quickly going away.

"Dean, you might be pregnant."

Dean sputters, swallows down his spit. "What?" he practically yells, then he laughs. About five different emotions rolled into one, but Cas only stares quizzically, looking right through Dean. "Cas, buddy, I know you're not human, but you gotta know by now that men can't get pregnant."

Cas hums, a soft sound from the back of his throat. "I understand that. But you smell pregnant. I can't seem to figure out why."

Dean doesn't know how to respond to that. He knows Cas has some type of freaky angel nose, he can smell things about humans that Dean is glad he'll never get the chance to, but what could Cas possibly be smelling that would indicate Dean were pregnant? He knows they've been having a lot of sex lately, he knows he's got a newfound love for bottoming, but still-- the confusion is there.

"Cas, are you smelling--" he hesitates, has to move his eyes to the wall. "Are you smelling your come inside me? Because I know I've cleaned it out, but you've got a big dick--"

Cas interrupts him. "No, Dean. I know what that smells like and this isn't it." He climbs off of Dean's lap, leaving Dean feeling cold and empty, but he's immediately distracted when Cas is smelling his crotch like some kind of dog. Cas pulls back, lifts his face towards Dean, and is he... is he smirking?

Dean squirms in his chair, about to take Cas by the hair and push him away. "Cas, dude," he mumbles.

"I figured it out, Dean. You are, in fact, not pregnant."

"No shit," Dean deadpans, his hand twitching to grab Cas already.

"However, your testes are not producing the testosterone they should be. Your luteinizing hormone levels are too high, they're getting stuck in your testes. I had mistaken them for human chorionic gonadotropin, I do apologize. Often times the smells can mix together and when I am otherwise occupied," he trails off, places a hand on Dean's thigh.

"You think I'm pregnant," Dean responds.

"Precisely. It would be quite endearing if I could get you pregnant, though." He's smiling again, this time much more brightly, and Dean wants to enjoy his joke, this angel who rarely ever jokes, but instead he's focused on what Cas had said.

"My testes--balls," he corrects himself, as if that makes the sentence more masculine, "aren't making testosterone?"

Cas makes his way back up his body, hands sliding easily underneath Dean's shirt. "Nothing to worry about," he promises. "The likely cause is from when I damaged your testicles the other day."

"Something you won't do again."

"No, I assure you it was merely an accident. I can speed up the healing process for you if you would like, but I must admit, I quite enjoy the scent." He sniffs the air again, the hands under his shirt tightening onto Dean's biceps. Dean softly gasps when Cas brushes against a hard nipple.