RockStarPeach

Title: Don’t Feel Like It Should
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG
Word count: 1400
Summary: For the prompt We need to use more lube next time. Set post S8. Cas is mortal and he needs Dean to teach him some things - things Dean might not necessarily want Cas to know. But Cas is surprisingly good at getting what he wants out of Dean. Basically, just some silly and some happy.
A/N: Written for threeonetwo over at spnspringfling. Reveals are up, so it's re-postin' time!

***

Dean goes tense.

He’s ready for this, he’s sure he is, but he’s still nervous. It’s a big step.

He looks down at Cas’ fingers, where they’re slippery and slick and curled in a loose fist. He feels Cas press forward, moves his own hips unconsciously to follow, alert and aware of every minute shift. He watches as Cas twists his wrist, gets into position and then his fingers dig hard into the bare flesh of Cas’ shoulders.

“Cas, I don’t think it’s gonna fit like that,” he says, shaking his head once, biting his lip. It will fit, of course it will, but only if Cas does it just right, not if it’s too dry and not if he just shoves it in.

“Yes it will, Dean,” Cas insists, eyes still turned downward, locked on his target. “Just relax.”

Yeah, relax, Dean thinks, rolling his eyes. Because that’s really fucking likely.

It’s peaceful and it’s quiet and they’re alone in an old barn out back of the Men of Letters HQ that Dean converted into a garage. The doors are wide open and the daylight is driving into dark corners and shadowed rafters. The shelves are lined with tools and old boxes and cases of beer and there’s a dusty FM radio tuned to a classic rock station. He can feel the sun-warmed metal of the Impala against his legs and he’s got his arms around Cas and really, this is his happy place.

Still, relaxing is pretty much out of the question, at the moment.

“Have you ever even done this before?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Cas pauses, ducks his head and melts into the smooth caress of Dean’s hands as they slide down and over his ribs. Dean smiles and his muscles unclench slightly, despite himself. He inches closer and gives in to the urge to press a light kiss to the side of Cas’ neck, just under his ear before he rests his chin down on Cas’ shoulder. Cas shivers and Dean’s smile grows.

“Stop that, Dean. I’m trying to concentrate.”

Dean chuckles and bites down gently on Cas’ earlobe before he pulls away.

“And no,” Cas admits. “I’ve never done this before. But I’ve seen you do it more than once. I am aware of the mechanics.”

“There’s more to it than just mechanics,” Dean says, fingers curling tighter around Cas’ biceps. “Christ, Cas, this is a big deal. I’ve never let anyone else do this before. Well, nobody but Sam, anyway – and he wasn’t very good at it. Just about tore it to shreds, the fucker. So I’m a little… apprehensive, okay?”

“I will be careful, Dean,” Cas promises. He steels his shoulders, bends down and over and rests his knees against the side of the car, for balance and leverage. “Now relax.”

“Is it slick enough?”

Cas pauses once again and sighs deeply.

“Dean, I’ve used more than enough lubrication. I’ve watched you, I’ve read the magazines you gave me. I am aware of how to do this. Millions of people do this every day, many of those for the first time. It’s usually fine.”

“Yeah, but I’m a little more personally invested in it, this time,” Dean growls. “Maybe this was a mistake. I think I should just…”

He grips his hands tighter around Cas’ waist and starts to push back, leans to the side and shifts to curl his fingers over Cas’ wrist, so he can guide him. Cas turns his head and scowls, shakes Dean off and freezes him in place with just a look.

“Fine,” Dean sighs. “Fine, go ahead. I trust you. Just… go slow.”

Cas does.

He eases forward, doesn’t stop when Dean tenses again, when he whimpers and sucks in a breath, when he jerks and his fingers snap back to Cas’ hips, when they dig in tight and cut down over the sharp jut of Cas’ hipbones. Cas goes steady and slow as he works it in, hands easy and confident while Dean watches, rapt.

“Okay, good,” Dean whispers, willing Cas to move just how and where he wants him. Cas can’t read his mind anymore, but Dean sometimes thinks yes, he can. “Yeah, like that. Okay, now push down… Good. Good. Turn just a little… No, no stop. It’s a little tight. Next time use more lube, okay?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas answers obediently, waits until he feels Dean nod beside him before he continues.

“Okay, yeah, that’s right. Keep going. Almost there… almost… Feel that?”

Cas nods, his eyes wide.

“Just push down a little on the right… twist a little…”

Cas does, and everything clicks into place.

“You’re in,” Dean purrs, straight into his ear. “How’s she feel?”

Cas doesn’t answer, just smiles, stands up straight and fast so the back of his head nearly smashes into Dean’s nose. Dean laughs and staggers back, careful he doesn’t hit his own head on the propped up car hood.

“Well?” Cas asks, stepping out of the way to give Dean a better view. He’s anxious and overly still next to Dean, waiting for approval as Dean leans forward and traces his fingers over the brand new spark plug, fitted snug and perfect and shiny, inside his baby’s engine.

Cas did that. Put his hands inside her and helped make her whole.

Fuck, Dean’s a little hard.

“Looks good,” Dean says, turning his head toward Cas. He takes in the dark smudges of engine grease across Cas’ cheek and forehead and fingers, up his bare arms and over the front of the white wife beater he’d borrowed from Dean. His hair is mussed and sticking up in haphazard tufts from where he’d run his fingers through it. “Looks damn good,” Dean adds and hell, he’s even harder now.

“I meant the car, Dean,” Cas mock-scolds.

Dean smiles and stands up straight again, wipes his hands on his worn, ratty jeans. “You did great, Cas.”

“I told you not to worry,” Cas says, unresisting as Dean hooks a finger into his belt loop and spins them around, pinning Cas against the driver’s side door. “I pay attention when you work.”

Dean presses in close to him, nudges at his chin so Cas tilts his head back.

“She likes you,” he mumbles, mouth pressed to warm skin, tongue licking a wet stripe over Cas’ Adam’s apple. “Went easy on you, ‘cause it was your first time.”

Cas’ breath catches when Dean’s hips angle forward and he sucks at the rapidly thrumming pulse point under his lips.

“You once did the same,” Cas says, breathy and light, pressing into Dean’s touch, “as I recall.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean snickers. He slips the tips of his fingers across Cas’ stomach and under the waistband of his loose-fitting jeans. They’re Dean’s, just like the shirt he’s wearing. Dean’s clothes look good on him. “I like you, too. And we didn’t use enough lube that time, either.”

Dean feels the light rumble through Cas’ throat, the gentle shake in his chest as he chuckles softly and eases Dean back, out of his personal space. Dean frowns and when Cas pushes him back even further, he starts to protest.

“What the..?” he says, blinking. “Hey, get back here!” He reaches again for Cas’ belt loop, but Cas easily ducks out of the way and swings around to open the car door.

Dean narrows his eyes and cocks his head. He pats his pockets quickly before he remembers that he gave Cas the keys earlier, to get the socket wrench out of the trunk.

“Cas? What are you doing?”

Cas smiles as he slips into the car, behind the wheel.

“I’m mortal now, Dean,” he says. “I’m going to need to drive to get around. And I think it’s time for my first lesson.”

“Yeah, but… In my car?” He looks around desperately, but they’re not at Bobby’s anymore, there isn’t a whole lot full of junkers they can they take out and let Cas smash up. “Changing a spark plug is one thing, but… driving? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“She likes me,” Cas says, sounding way too pleased with himself. “You said so yourself.”

Dean snaps his mouth shut and grinds his teeth a little, because yeah, he did just say that. And it’s true.

“Fine,” he grumbles, stomping around the car to get into the passenger seat. “But if you put even one little scratch on her…”

“Relax, Dean,” Cas says, reaching over to fasten his seat belt. “I’ve watched you do this more than once. And I pay attention.”

That’s kind of what Dean’s afraid of.

END