. @Ginnna @hils_k - The first thing Dean does in the New Year is kiss Castiel. The second thing he does is reach out in surprise as Castiel disappears.

The third is scream at the top of his lungs. "Cas, you get your ass back here, you sneaky little bastard!"

A flicker, a gust of wind, and Castiel reappears, head bowed, looking fairly chagrined. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I assumed you'd break the tradition if it wasn't someone you wanted to k-kiss." He looks to the side, as though embarrassed to even say the word.

Dean can tell Castiel's not about to act, so he does the dirty work, closes the gap between them, and grabs Cas around the waist. Shocked blue eyes return to meet his, and lock there.

"I have been doing this a long time," Dean says, "and if there's one thing I know it's how to tell if there's something there. There's something here, Cas. Between you and me. And I want to find out what it is."

Castiel tries to speak, but Dean isn't interested in what he has to say. Not in words, anyway.

He kisses the angel's mouth, and all at once it's very clear that there needs to be more, and more right now. Dean tears at his collar, loosens his tie, and Castiel's hands cling to his shirt, drawing wrinkles into the fabric, as their mouths open, explore, learn each other. It's possibly the best kiss Dean has ever had, and he's burning up by the end of it, hard and full, blood pumping everywhere. "Oh, God, Cas--" he starts, breaking off, and then can't finish because he gets a look at Castiel's face.

His mouth is pink and swollen, his eyes huge and pleading. His hair's tousled where Dean's drawn an anxious hand through it. And he's breathing shallowly. Something he doesn't have to do, but he's forgetting to control it. That's how gone he is, how deeply he feels right now. It's stunning.

Dean can't help but smile.

"So what are my chances of getting you in bed tonight, angel?" he says, the old Dean Winchester drawl and eyebrow-quirk in full force.

Castiel's fists yank on his poor hopelessly wrinkled shirt. Their foreheads knock together. "Much," he says, "much better than average."

"Really? Knowing my average?

Castiel kisses him in a way that soundly answers that question.

"Well, Happy New Year to me," Dean says, throwing off Castiel's coat, and somehow from Bobby's backyard they're in some motel's empty room, and Dean doesn't even feel the constipation this time. Maybe it's psychosomatic, because he was thoroughly distracted by a warm tongue stroking his own. The sneaky-little-bastard label still applies.

They sink down onto the bed like melting layers of chocolate, limbs and hastily discarded clothing overlapping as they descend. Dean can't get enough of Castiel's skin, of the stubbly grizzle of his chin and the salty soft flesh at his throat. Castiel's clinging to him, crying out in soft tenor tones that Dean hasn't heard from him since Jimmy emerged. They're gorgeous, like singing, and Dean's whole body is singing too, vibrating with the rhythm of how perfectly their movements are synced.

"God, Cas," he murmurs, "how are you so good?"

"I--" Castiel catches his breath. "I know you."

That seems to make perfect sense.

Dean's hand finds a soft and perfect grip on the two of them, and Castiel arches and buckles beneath Dean's grasp as they slide together, riding the swells of desire to their peak. Dean finds room and time to move down to taste him, and Castiel tries a few fumbling strokes before they find the rhythm that works - God, astonishingly well - to steer them both over the edge into incoherence.

Castiel's orgasm is impressive, fountains of white and eyes rolling back into his head and panicked gasps as though he's about to explode from the inside out. Dean, already sated and lazy from his own climax a minute earlier, wonders how much that body had backed up, waiting for this moment. But more than that, he wonders how Castiel will act now. Will he regret it? Has Dean just ruined things by insisting they not merely cross that line but leap over it?

But he gets a smile, and a hand caressing his face. That's more than he could have asked for.

Dean isn't the type to believe in fate, or superstition, but he has the feeling this is a pretty auspicious omen for the new year. And, not for the first time since Castiel's entered his life, Dean's inclined to just let himself believe.

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