Castiel steps into what Dean frequently reminds him is Personal Space. He places his hands on Dean’s shoulders, looks him in the eye, and then presses his lips against Dean’s.
They are warm. Softer than he expects. The rest of Dean is very tense, but his lips are not. They are, in fact, very nice.
Castiel feels a small pang of sorrow when Dean pulls away. He feels worse when Dean starts laughing at him so hard he doubles over. There may, in fact, be tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
“Jesus, Cas. Just,” Dean’s composure breaks again when he looks Castiel in the face. “I swear, man, I thought you were kidding. Holy shit, you are so not kidding.”
Kissing is apparently beyond him, but Castiel’s grasp on humiliation is suddenly quite expert.
“I should go.”
Dean grabs his sleeve.
Short and slow and sweet and beautifully-written.
Overall Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2177442