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Dean And Castiel's Little Angel

The Name Game

“What about the name… Jeremiah?” Dean asked.
Sam visibly cringed, his fox like features scrunching up into a distorted mask of disapproval.
“You know you can just say you hate it!” Dean snapped, slamming down his book of baby names. Over 60,000 names in that book, and Dean was willing to bet not a single one of them would please his brother.
“No, no, Jeremiah’s fine,” Sam lied. He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.
“You know it’s not your kid,” Dean pointed out.
Sam frowned. “But I don’t want my nephew to be forever crippled because my idiot brother and his winged husband decided to call him Jeremiah.” He flipped his thin hair, very pleased with his comeback.
Dean scowled and continued to flip through the pages, growing more and more frustrated. Ernie… Who would name their kid Ernie? And Travis…. Ech. Don’t even get him started on Gerald. He couldn’t believe these names had stayed, like fungal infections, in society through years and years.
Castiel entered the room, appearing suddenly over Dean’s shoulder. In the past, this would startle Dean and cause him to jump, but after two years of dating and a year of marriage he was no longer surprised. He easily entwined his fingers with Castiel’s.
“Are you sure you don’t want to help name the little guy?” Dean asked his husband. Cas had told him Dean could take full responsibility of naming their child and he would support whatever decision Dean reached. Still, Dean felt so guilty for not allowing Cas any input on something as huge as the permanent name of their single baby. Sure, both of them wanted more children, but adoption agencies just took so long.
Cas’s eyes flicked carelessly across the various names. “Nah. I expect you to select a name of great taste and convenience.” He pecked Dean on top of his gelled hair. “Please don’t name our son Gerald.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Dean laughed. Sam grinned, glad to see his older brother finally happy. Before Cas, Dean stopped taking any joy from life around age seven. Sam blames it on their lifestyle; when you’re constantly moving, you’re father’s never home, and you’re permanently in danger; it takes a toll on your morale.
“What do you think about the name Daniel?” Dean asked Cas.
“Sounds good. Easy to spell, same consonant as yours, it’s not Gerald.” Cas let an ear to ear smile loose. “I like the ring to it.”
“That just makes me think of Danny Bonaduche,” Sam shuddered.
Cas’s face fell.
“Damn it, Sammy!” Dean cursed. He leaned over to slug his sibling in the arm. He slapped the book shut. “We’re done for today.”
“You know,” Sam began. He took a pause to buff his fingernails on his chest. “You could always name it Sam.”
Dean scoffed. “If anything, Sam will be its middle name. I think John’s a better middle name though.”
Castiel nodded in agreement. “It’s a classic name.”
“I really don’t want to talk about names anymore,” Dean muttered, massaging his temples.
Castiel rubbed his husband’s tense shoulders. “We don’t have to.”
“Are you guys still going shopping tomorrow?” Sam asked. “I want to help.”
“Yes, but you,” Dean started, shooting a glare at his younger brother, “Cannot come.”
“Why? I want to!” Sam whined. Dean was instantly reminded of when Sam was a young child and Dean, not much older, was given the tiresome task of caring for him for days on end.
“It’s a husband thing,” Dean replied simply. “Besides I don’t want to hear you moaning about how your brother’s having a baby and you don’t even have a girlfriend.”
Cas squinted. “That seemed a little harsh.”
“Oh, those are his words,” Dean explained, motioning towards Sam, who shrugged.
“I want to help,” Sam repeated, just as whiny as last time.
“Fine, you’re on baby proofing duty,” Dean designated, tossing Sam a screw driver. Sam, adapted to a quick paced life in a state of eternal trepidation, easily caught the tool.
Sam turned the smooth red screwdriver around in his large hands, feeling the cool metal on his skin. “What does baby proofing mean?”
“Resolve any potential dangers by making them safe. Find a device that keeps the cupboards and toilet inaccessible to a young human being, perhaps a lock for the bathroom door, make sure no blinds have pulley systems that could wrap around an infant’s neck,” Castiel listed.
“Basically fix anything that you would hurt yourself on,” Dean cut in.
Sam frowned at his older sibling, who thought that he was hilarious. He could tell by the smug little smile on his face. Even though Dean previously struggled with self-esteem issues, one thing he always prided himself on was his crude sense of humor.
“I’ll go to the hardware store now,” Sam offered, getting up and grabbing the Impala keys on his way out the door.
“Be careful with Baby!” Dean called after Sam.
Cas snickered. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s broad shoulders. “Sometimes I wonder if you love that car more than me.”
Dean chuckled, his throaty laugh spreading vibrations to Cas’s forearms. “Ehh, it’s a 60-40 ratio.”
Cas leaned so that his mouth was right next to Dean’s ear. “What’s 60? Me or Baby?”
Dean shivered, Cas’s cold breath and the deepness of his voice both freaking him out and turning him on. He searched for the right thing to say in response.
“My angel,” Dean whispered back.
“Prove it,” Cas growled. He licked the upper part of Dean’s jawline.
Dean suppressed a small moan and turned around. Without a word, he swept Castiel up in his arms and carried him up to their room.
When they arrived, Dean carelessly tossed Castiel onto their bed, quickly ripping off his grey v neck.
Castiel lay on the bed, staring shamelessly at Dean. His intense blue eyes seemed to boar a hole right through the middle of Dean.
Dean lay on top of his husband, roughly kissing his neck. He sucked and bit the sensitive skin, leaving an impressive assemblage of angry red spots that would surely evolve into massive hickeys.
He sat up, only to undo Cas’s blue tie. He took the silky fabric in his teeth, pulling it slowly from its comfortable spot. He spit it out onto the floor and began unbuttoning Cas’s white dress shirt.
Castiel grinded his hips up against Dean’s stomach, his hard on pressing into Dean’s gut. He was no help removing his own clothing, mindlessly rubbing up against Dean, his eyes shut and a hand tightly threaded through Dean’s sandy blond locks.
Dean pulled off Cas’s jeans, adding them to the crumpled pile adjacent to the bed. He stared hungrily down at the angel, naked spare his black American Apparel briefs. Dean traced the leg of the briefs, his tongue sliding delicately across his husband’s upper thigh. He could feel Castiel’s boner in his forehead and, Hell, he liked it. He eventually sat up, wriggling out of his jeans and removing his navy boxer briefs.
Castiel wrapped a strong hand around Dean’s neck and yanked him down to his stomach, lightly pressing Dean’s face towards his crotch. This was his subtle way of asking for a blow job.
Dean immediately understood his husband’s tell-tale signal. He grinned happily before sliding off Castiel’s underwear, tossing them to the side. His tea green eyes looked up to Cas briefly before taking him in whole.
He first sucked, easy as cake. He then gripped the base of Castiel’s length for more difficult maneuvers. He pulled it out to slither his tongue across the tip. He then took it in once again, deep throating Castiel, all seven inches of him.
Dean hardly even gagged, more than used to his husband’s somewhat generous penis size. He scraped his teeth carefully up and down his cock, faintly so as not to hurt him. He glided his mouth up and down Cas’s dick until he felt his husband was ready to climax. He deep throated him again, letting Castiel ride out his orgasm.
Castiel moaned Dean’s name as he came, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder blades and leaving scarlet scratches littered with small beads of blood.
Dean swallowed and released Cas’s penis. He sat up and wiped his mouth of excess semen, shooting a wide smile at his husband.
Castiel panted, already coated in a hot sweat. Despite this, he again yanked Dean on top of him, sloppily kissing Dean’s chest, slightly tugging the skin into his mouth around Dean’s nipple.
Dean moaned in ecstasy, taken aback by his husband’s unusual urgency. He reached a hand back to pull off his underwear, kicking them out of the way.
Castiel instantly grabbed Dean’s hard penis, thrusting the length up and down and gliding his thumb across the tip.
Dean whimpered, Castiel’s magic hands sending him into a sexual nirvana. He lasted nowhere near as long as Cas; ejaculating all over his husband’s stomach.
Cas only smirked, pleased that he could get Dean to orgasm so quickly. He slid out from under his boyfriend, plucking a few tissues from their box and wiping the cum off of his lower abs.
“Do you think we should head downstairs?” Dean asked worriedly.
Castiel smiled. Dean’s concern for other humans was so endearing.
“Nah,” he muttered, sliding into his husband’s arms.


This is one of.... four? chapters? Maybe three. Thanks for reading! The whole story can be found at Archiveofourown.org under thehotinpsychotic.
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