#ch8se

Dean doesn’t trust his dick to stay down when Castiel is rubbing up against him, the solid weight of his arms around his neck as Cas stares up shyly from under his eyelashes. It’s so fucking perfect and he wants to keep Cas like this forever, even if he won’t admit it. He plants his hands on Cas’ hips and okay, yes; maybe he does pull Cas into him a little harder.

“Nice outfit,” Dean smirks, and Cas’ cheeks flush even darker, that pretty blush dipping all the way beneath the neck of his sweater. Dean leans in a little closer so that Cas can’t bow his head in embarrassment this time, and he has to hold his gaze with dubious smile.

“I look like Gabriel,” he says with a small laugh, and Dean would be lying if he said the sound didn’t warm him all the way to his bones. He’s completely aware of how bad an idea this whole thing is, that at least when they were bickering in moving vehicles Dean could pretend not to notice all these things, but now he can’t hide from them – he doesn’t want to.