meangreenlimabean writes

It wasn’t Dean’s fault.

Honestly, you lock a guy away in solitary for over a month, you can’t blame him for acting a bit loopy. He really couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Talking to himself had been the only way to pass the time. Someone like him should not be left alone very long.

Really, if you thought about it, this was Castiel’s fault. You can only have so many pretend conversations with someone before you start to confuse dreams for memories, hallucinations for reality. How was he supposed to know that it was the real Cas, not imaginary Cas, standing in the doorway of Dean’s prison cell?

It wasn’t his fault that Cas looked exactly like he did in Dean’s daydreams. From the stupid tilt of his head, the dumb way his eyes narrowed, his dry lips as he spoke Dean’s name, or the ridiculous way his fists clenched as his eyes took Dean in. How was he supposed to know it wasn’t just another trick of his mind?

So Dean couldn’t be blamed. Not when he rose from the hard mattress and closed the space between them. Not for how he cupped his hands around Cas’s stubbled cheeks. Especially not for when he leaned in and pressed their mouths together.

The fact that his mother interrupted them  - Mom? - only served to further confuse him. He was pretty certain he’d made up the part where she’d been brought back from the dead, so her presence just confirmed that none of it was real.

Only the stunned look on Cas’s face had made Dean second guess himself. How could his mind conjure up an expression he’d never seen on Castiel before? The mind is a funny thing. If he had to put a name to that reaction, he’d have to go with “stupefied.” Dean chuckled, and walked back to his bed to sit down.

Next, Sam burst into the doorway. He looked at Mary and Cas, both frozen in their spots, then to Dean. His face lit up in relief. “Dean, you’re okay! Let’s go, man.”

Dean blinked. “Huh?”

Mary stepped forward, at last. “We don’t have all day. Let’s get you out of here.”

Then Dean started to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. “This is real? You guys are really here.”

His mother glanced at Sam. “Yes, honey, this is real, and we need to get moving.”

It was the blaring alarm that went off somewhere not too far away, accompanied by flashing lights, that finally jolted him into action. He let them lead the way down a series of corridors to a painted sigil that lit up like a spotlight and deposited them roughly into an empty building.

As everyone dusted themselves off, Dean mentally listed all the reasons why that kiss wasn’t real, why it didn’t count. But when Cas turned to him with that stupid concerned expression, and put a hand on his shoulder, Dean shook the ideas from his mind and met Cas’s gaze. A grin pulled at his mouth. “Hey buddy, it’s good to see you.”

Occasionally he would rouse as she came in, green eyes blinking open, then his face would light up at the sight of her. “Mommy!”

She crouched down beside his bed and touched his face. “Shhh, go back to sleep honey.”

“Okay. I love you.” Then he would lay his little head down again, drifting off with a sleepy smile as she rubbed a hand over his back.

Now she stood in the doorway to his room, terrified to go in. This couldn’t be her little prince charming. He was taller than she was, and technically older. Wisdom and experience showed in his eyes.

She took a hesitant step in, her slippered feet nearly silent on the cement floor. Steadying herself, she took another step, and another.

Dean stirred and she froze. “Mom-” he muttered. She held her breath.

His eyes were still closed. He was dreaming.

Mary went to his side and crouched down beside his bed. His breathing was slow and even, his mouth slack. Sound asleep. She felt herself smiling, although sadly. He looked younger like this. Asleep and unguarded, she could almost believe that this was her little boy. Hesitantly, she reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair. When he didn’t wake, she tried it again. Her fingertips followed the familiar pattern, a smile pulling at her mouth as she traced a whorl here and the odd crooked patch there. She recognized this! A laugh almost escaped her chest.

Afraid to wake him, she stopped herself, but laid her hand gently on his cheek before she went. Dean grumbled in his sleep and leaned into her palm. Tears burned in her eyes. She stood and left the room.

Sam nods, keeping his eyes tightly shut.

A new voice breaks in, unfamiliar, barely above a whisper. “My God, what did she do to him?”

Mom, his brain reminds him, but that can’t be right. Just another hallucination. Mom is still dead, stupid. He forces his eyes open to look for his brother. If he can just look at Dean, the fake stuff will be easier to ignore. Or not. His mother’s face comes into focus in front of him. She is kneeled on the cold, damp floor, one hand cautiously reaching toward him. He jerks away.

The hurt on her face at his rejection seems real enough.

“She’s real, Sam,” Dean tells him. “Mom’s really here.”

He studies her. She is just as beautiful as he remembers. Mary holds very still, keeping a safe distance. Her emotions show plainly on her face as she looks him over: worry, anger, sadness, resolve. After a long, tense moment, she moves towards him again.

Sam tries not to, but he flinches. Mary stands up and moves away. Ashamed, Sam drops his gaze to the floor, shaking his head. Concerned voices swirl above his head again but he wastes no effort to pick out words. They probably think he still doesn’t believe it, and he’s not ready to tell them otherwise.

Dean crouches down, bringing himself to Sam’s eye level. “I’m gonna take mom to the car, okay Sammy?” He starts to reach out, to pat Sam on the arm, but stops himself. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh- Cas is here. Would’ja let him heal you, at least?”

Sam gives a small nod. Then he looks up and meets Dean’s eyes. “I said things,” he begins, then the words get stuck in his throat. He makes a sour face, feeling like he might vomit.

“Hey man,” Dean says gently, moving a little closer. “Whatever happened, I don’t give a damn right now. We’ll manage. I’m just happy to have you back safe and sound.” He looks so certain. “Let’s get you fixed up and then we’ll head home, alright?” With that, he stands, says something low to Cas, then leads Mary out.

Sam lets his chin drop to his chest. He knows his pain is about to disappear, but a part of him isn’t ready. Castiel says nothing, just stands by quietly, patiently.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, Sam takes a deep breath. “She tricked me,” he explains, then stops, feeling ridiculous. He squeezes his eyes shut and sinks a little further onto the cold floor. He hears a soft shuffling, then all is silent again for a long moment.

“Sam-” The voice comes from much nearer than Sam expected, and he startles, his eyes flying open. Cas is seated cross-legged on the floor, facing him. He gives Sam a second to compose himself, then continues. “Like Dean said, any information you may have divulged to those people is of zero significance. We are simply relieved to have you back.”

Sam lets out a shaky breath. This is one of those rare times he is grateful for Cas being so straightforward. He looks up to see the angel staring at his bandaged foot.

Cas gestures toward it. “May I?”

Sam tenses up. “Do you have to…” He feels silly for having to ask. “Can you heal without… touching?”

Blue eyes study him, but there is no judgement. “Before the fall, yes I could. Easily. But now?” His gaze moves over Sam’s slumped form, his expression solemn. “I suppose it can’t hurt to try.”  He stretches his hand out toward Sam’s left knee, but waits for Sam to nod in permission.

The familiar cool burn of grace pools over Sam’s injured thigh. In the soft glow from under Cas’s hand, Sam can feel each fiber of muscle and skin threading back together and mending. He’s been healed dozens of times, many of those by Cas, but this was slower than he was used to. As promised, Cas keeps his fingers hovering just over Sam’s leg without making contact.

Once Cas pulls away, Sam looks down at his leg to find it appears exactly the same. Despite his body being completely healed from the bullet wound, like it never happened, his ripped jeans and the bandage beneath are still coated with dried blood. Cas scowls. “Hmph.” He seems unhappy with his results.

Sam couldn’t care less. It wasn’t like he would want to wear these clothes ever again.

Next, Cas raises his hand to Sam’s face, healing the slice across his cheekbone, then a smaller one on his forehead. Then a deeper gash on his chest. Each time, the angel keeps from touching Sam’s skin, pushing his grace into the wound, his palm not an inch away. They continue until every cut is repaired and Cas sits back on his heels. Sam doesn’t budge.

Cas studies him in silence for a while. He narrows his eyes in frustration. Eventually, he leans in a little closer, and takes a slow, purposeful inhale through his nose. Then he sits back again, growing very still. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low rumble, almost too quiet for Sam to make out. “She tricked you.”

Sam recognizes his own words from earlier. He tries to make himself smaller, his shoulders curling inward like he wants to disappear.

Cas speaks again. “Is that why you didn’t want your mother to touch you?”

Sam nods, not looking up from the floor.

“Understandable.”

Another long silence passes before Sam replies. “I can’t believe I fell for it. Stupid.”

“I am afraid I don’t follow.”

Sam looks up, giving Cas an incredulous frown. “She got me to trust her. After everything-”

Cas just stares, unflinching, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.

“There was a spell, it made me think we were… together.”

“Sexually,” Cas clarifies. Sam has to look away. “Pain didn’t break you, so instead she tried pleasure.”

Sam winces at his words. “God, Cas-”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Sam.”

“Like hell it isn’t.” His body is trembling, a combination of anger, exhaustion, and the cold. He lets out an angry sigh. “And it worked. Wasn’t even real, but I fell for it. Such an idiot.”

“Stop,” Cas commands, making Sam flinch and grow quiet. “You were held and tortured for days. I’ve never met anyone, human or otherwise, who has withstood what you have been put through.”

Sam wants to take the compliment, but too much is still nagging at him. When he finally answers, his voice is very small. “It’s not… that’s...”

Cas offers up an explanation, his voice steady. “You enjoyed it.”

Sam doesn’t move, but his eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth curls in disgust. The angel nods in understanding.

“When I was briefly human,” Cas begins, “the physical needs were overwhelming. Hunger, exhaustion, it was impossible to get used to. I remember being starving and cold, until a woman named April took me in. She fed me, gave me a place to sleep, she made me feel safe. We had sexual intercourse. Multiple times, in fact.”

“Cas?” Sam’s brows are pinched in confusion.

“While I believed her to be simply a kind human being, I enjoyed our physical interactions. But that wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t real.”

Sam lets out his breath. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not really the same.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Cas sticks out his chin stubbornly. “She misrepresented herself to gain my trust. Her actions weren’t out of kindness. It was a trap, which I leapt right into. Sam, do you believe I’d let down my guard had I known everything?”

“No!” Sam felt hot tears welling up in his eyes, and he blinked fast. Cas was hitting too close to the mark. “But she… it was...” Sam circled the idea a few times, trying to explain it away, but words failed him.

“If your mind had not been impaired by a spell, would you have agreed to participate? Could you even fully comprehend what was being done to you?”

“But-” he was shaking his head, desperately making excuses to himself throughout all of Cas’s speech. “It was all in my head,” he finally said, without much conviction.

Cas didn’t answer, but his eyes flicked down, just a fraction. Sam wasn’t even sure if he meant to do it, but it got the point across.

He had hoped that Cas’s super senses hadn’t caught that detail, but no such luck. Sam’s face and neck flushed red. He squirmed, trying not to think about the damp, sticky patch in his jeans. He couldn’t lie to himself, that much had been real enough. Shame burned hot in his stomach as he remembered her smug, awful grin as he woke from the spell.

“You could try placing the blame on the person who tortured you,” Cas said, his voice almost gentle.

This time, Sam didn’t argue.

After a while, Cas stood. “Sam, let us get you to the bunker. You will feel much better after a shower and a change of clothes.” He offered his hand.

Sam reached out, hesitated, then took Cas’s hand and allowed himself to be hauled up off the floor. He didn’t pull away even once he was on his feet.

“That’s a start,” Cas said gently. He gave what was probably meant to be an encouraging smile.

The wood by the stairs creaked, and they both looked to see Dean enter the open doorway. “You guys planning to join us anytime soon?” He nodded at Sam. “That’s more like it,” he waved a hand indicating Sam’s lack of injuries. “Good as new.”

Sam forced a smile until his brother was gone. Then he turned from Cas and shuffled toward the steps. Despite being fully healed he moved carefully, as if not to aggravate his wounds.

Cas watched him go. “You are convinced he wouldn’t understand.”

“I know he wouldn’t.”

“He might surprise you.”

picspam 1: Relationships Developing

picspam 2: Emotional Baggage

Dean thought it would be an ordinary hunt. An easy smash and grab. But he’d been waiting out back of this Ikea store for over an hour, and Cas was nowhere in sight. He was starting to get nervous.

They had cased the store during the day, found exactly where the cursed dresser was that needed destroyed. Then they waited until the last employee had gone home for the night. Dean had picked the lock at let Cas in, while he waited in the car as lookout.

If he went in now, only to find that Cas was perfectly fine, he would feel silly. He reminded himself that Castiel was still mostly an angel, and could handle this task just fine. Dean could practically hear Sam’s voice teasing him about having a massive crush on Cas. But he worried, all the same.

Cas should have been back by now.

Dean cursed under his breath and got out of the car. He’d have to go in after him. After shooting a quick text to Sam about the change of plans, he grabbed a shotgun from the trunk and headed inside.

The store was a maze. He’d walked the entire floor just a few hours ago, but now in the dark, everything looked different. Dean quickly realized he was lost. Hopelessly turned around. He wandered for another twenty minutes before he accepted the fact. With an angry bellow, he punched the nearest display wall. His fist left an indent in the thin wood.

“Ooh, better watch your temper!”

Dean spun around, weapon up. He sighed in relief as he saw it was just Cas. “Hey man. Where have you been?”

Cas gave him an odd grin. “I’ve been looking for you, Deano.”

His stomach dropped as he realized something was wrong. This was not his friend. Suddenly Dean’s hands were pinned behind his back. He struggled, but whatever had him was immovable. “What the hell?”

The thing wearing Castiel smirked at him. “Don’t bother, she’s too strong.”

He glared. “What did you do to Cas?”

“Oh, he’s in here, somewhere.” It attempted another smile, but the expression didn’t sit right. “Hang on, let me find him for you.” The thing’s eyes went distant for a moment. Dean waited, his heart racing.

As he stared, life came back into Castiel’s azure blue eyes. “Where am I?”

Dean tried to surge forward, but his wrists were held in a vice-like grip. “Cas?”

“Huh? No, it’s me. It’s Jimmy.”

“Who?” Dean frowned. “Oh, the vessel.”

Jimmy looked offended. “Excuse me? This was my body first, remember!”

“Right…” Dean clenched his jaw. “I wanna talk to Cas.” Jimmy just looked at him. Dean raised his voice. “I said I want to talk to Cas. Right now, you son of a bitch! If you’ve hurt him, I swear to God-”

“You forget, I am God now.” The cocky grin was back.

“What do you want?” Dean demanded coldly.

The insane smile grew wider. “You!” After a beat, the thing laughed. “Oh, don’t worry! You’re gonna enjoy this.” He stepped closer, taking off his cobalt blue tie.

“My turn?” a female voice said. Dean struggled to look, but now Cas, or the thing that looked like Cas, was on him, forcing Dean backwards. He flinched, closing his eyes. “Aw, Dean, don’t be such a wuss.”

Dean opened his eyes to see who was speaking. It was Becky Rosen, and she was hugely pregnant. She smiled coyly at him.

Cas backed up to stand next to her. “He looks good this way, doesn’t he?”

Dean struggled, only to find that he still couldn’t move his arms. He jerked and twisted, looking back at what was holding him. The cobalt blue tie was looped around his wrists and through the handles of a tall wooden armoire. He couldn’t go far without bringing the entire thing down on himself.

Becky giggled, one hand resting on her belly. “Well, I’ve always been more of a Sam girl, but I have to admit this is a pretty picture.”

Dean frowned at her in confusion “Becky, what’s going on? What are you doing with him?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh we’re not together-together. Dirty mind, Dean.” She rubbed her belly again. “This little guy is half vampire.” That’s how I was strong enough to pin you, Dean.”

He made a face. “Your baby is half vampire? What is this, friggin’ Twilight?”

Becky laughed. “I knew it! You did read the books!” She stepped closer, blocking his view of Cas. “My baby daddy is not just any vampire. He’s the Alpha.”

Dean felt his eyes widen. “Becky, what were you thinking? You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

“Me, killed? You’re one to talk.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe you’re just jealous cause my boyfriend is tougher than yours.”

“Listen,” he said, his voice low. “You’re in over your head. Untie me, and we can help you. Me and Sam, we’ll keep you safe.”

She paused, considering his words. Then she bit her lip. “Always trying to scam your way out, Dean. Enough talking.” She bent forward, and Dean craned his neck to see. She was pulling her panties down over her feet. Then she stood, and balled the fabric in her hand. “Open up, chatty Cathy.”

He tried to clamp his teeth shut, but she was too strong. She forced his jaw open and shoved the panties, still warm, into his mouth. He could taste her in the back of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself to breathe slowly through his nose.

When he opened his eyes, Becky were gone. In her place stood a small woman with short blonde hair. It dawned on his that this was Meg, as they’d first seen her. He grunted around his gag.

“Ooh, Dean,” she shushed him, one hand on his cheek. “There’s so many things we never got to do.” She unbuckled his belt, and he gave her his most pissed off glare. She just grinned, and dropped to her knees.

Now he could see Cas again, sprawled out on the mattress of a display bed. A dark haired woman was straddling him. Cas turned and met his eyes. “Dean?” he said, his voice gravely. “You were supposed to wait in the car.”

Dean strained at his bindings. That was Cas, really Cas. His white shirt was unbuttoned and the woman was kissing up his exposed chest. Dean tried to yell, the sound muffled by the pink fabric in his mouth.

The woman turned and followed Cas’s gaze. She pushed her hair back to reveal her face. It was Lisa Braeden. She was wearing a silk robe that he had given her for her birthday the year they lived together. Lisa knew exactly what that robe did to Dean. At the same time as Meg was rubbing her hand over the bulge in his boxers, he watched as Lisa sank down onto Cas and started to ride him. Dean was torn between struggling to get free, and just giving in and letting this happen.

Just then Meg’s lips closed around his erection and sucked him down. He let his head fall back against the flat wood behind him, and watched through lidded eyes as Lisa rolled her hips against Cas. A moan escaped his chest at the sensation of Meg’s tongue on him. He realized, through the haze of pleasure, than someone else was on the bed, strong hands circled around Lisa’s waist, a dark head of hair bent forward to suck on her exposed neck.

Lisa arched her back, and Dean could see the man behind her. It was Cas. Another one? Dean shook his head, trying to clear the fog in his mind. Lisa moaned. “Yes, Cas, yes!”

He gave a soft bite on the arch of her shoulder. “It’s Jimmy,” he corrected.

Then Meg changed her pace and Dean gasped, almost sucking the panties down his throat. He wished his hands were free, not so he could push her away, but so he could grab her by her pixie cut and hold her in place. But as he looked down, he saw a cascade of red hair, and blinked in surprise. Anna Milton looked up at him. She withdrew, leaving him aching hard, and stood. A soft smile crossed her swollen lips as she pulled the gag out of his mouth. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

He stretched his stiff jaw, then found himself staring at her mouth, at a loss for words. She ran her hands down his chest, teasingly slow, then closed her fingers around his hard cock. As she went back to her knees, Dean saw that the scene before him had changed. The furniture displays were gone. It appeared to be the lobby of a classy Swiss ski resort. A young woman and a middle aged man were both reclined on a rug before the fireplace. They seemed familiar. Dean watched her raise a steaming mug to her lips. She was dressed in a simple white dress, and her brown hair fell in waves across her shoulders. The man propped himself up on his elbow to gaze at her. His eyes flashed yellow. Dean’s heart leapt into his throat; this was Azazel, and now Dean recognized the girl as Eve.

Cas was nowhere in sight, not any version of him. He jerked at the tie binding his wrists.

Suddenly a tall figure blocked his view. Dean jerked back so quickly that he whacked his head. His vision swam, but he was sure he saw his brother’s face. “Sammy,” he rasped. His tongue was dry from having Becky’s panties in his mouth so long. “Sammy,” he tried again. “We gotta get out of here, something’s wrong. It’s not safe, gotta go…”

“Shhh, Dean, just relax.” Sam’s big hand patted him on the arm.

Dean briefly worried what his little brother would think of seeing him getting a blow job from Anna. Then he wondered why Sam hadn’t seemed to notice. He squeezed his eyes shut until his vision came into focus. Sam turned and walked away, giving Dean full view of his crisp white suit.

A harsh sob came from Dean’s chest. He watched Sam- no, not Sammy, he reminded himself- Lucifer. He watched Lucifer slide between Eve and Azazel on the rug. Dean began to struggle in earnest against his bonds. Eve leaned up to kiss Sam, no, Lucifer, on the lips. Then she rolled over to set down her mug, and Lucifer turned to kiss Azazel. Dean felt his own mouth go dry as he watched the man’s rough, tan fingers bunch up in the sparkling white fabric of that suit, then reach up to brush Sam’s hair from his eyes. The two men turned to look at Dean. Lucifer’s eyes shone blue as Azazel’s smoldered yellow. Sam’s mouth twisted into a hideous smile.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath, and pulled as hard as he could. The tie slipped loose and he fell forward, his eyes popping open as he tumbled to his knees. He looked around, his chest heaving. He was back in the Ikea store. Alone. He stood and looked around the darkened room.

“Cas,” he called, his voice echoing through the space. He remembered coming in to see what was taking so long. Whatever was going on, he still needed to find his friend. “Cas!”

“Dean,” came the breathy answer, just behind him. Dean spun around to see Cas tied up where he’d just been, arms behind his back, pinned against the armoire. Someone was crouched before Cas, blocking Dean’s view of what he was pretty sure was going on below the waist.

He tried to move forward, but felt as if his feet were frozen in place. “Cas, are you hurt? What’s going on?” The angel avoided looking at him. Dean could see a pink flush travel up Cas’s chest and face. “Cas? Talk to me, buddy. How do we get out of this?”

“It’s okay, Dean. I can handle this. Just let me-” His stubbled jaw clenched.

Dean balled his hands into fists, tried to move forward. “Handle what? Did you break the vase?”

Cas squinted his eyes shut, shaking his head. “No- yes-”

Using all his strength, Dean was able to drag his right foot forward about two inches. He had to stop and catch his breath from the effort. “What are we up against here, man? Tell me what to do!”

Finally Cas looked up, met his eyes. “One of us has to ejaculate, Dean, or we both die. I agreed to this. I can-” His voice cut off again as the sensations overwhelmed him.

“Enough,” Dean growled. “Let him go, whatever you are. Take me.”

The figure kneeling in front of Cas suddenly stood and turned. It appeared to be another Cas copy. Then Dean noticed the blue sweater, and remembered. “Misha,” he said with disdain.

“Very good guess, Deanie-weenie,” he answered, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the sweater. “And regarding your noble offer, I accept.”

“No!” Cas begged, his arms still bound behind his back. “We had a deal, let him go!”

Misha turned back and forth, looking from Dean to Cas with a sly smirk. “You two are just so fucking selfless, it’s adorable. I choose…” he pointed a finger back and forth as if playing eenie-meenie-miney-moe. “Both,” he decided.

Suddenly Dean could move his feet, and he ran toward Cas, who was tugging the cobalt blue tie off his wrists. Dean cupped the angel’s face in his hands, looking him over, triple checking to see if he was okay, if he was really Cas.

“Better hurry up,” Misha teased. “You’ll both drop dead if you don’t finish by sunrise. And by finish, I mean…”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Dean cut him off. “Now how about some privacy?”

“That was not part of our deal,” Misha laughed. “But now that you mention it.” In a flash, Dean found himself in a new location, completely naked. He quickly covered himself. He felt soft carpet beneath his feet. Rows of padded chairs were set up facing them. He knew Cas was beside him, but his focus was on who was in front of them. The seats was filled with familiar faces. Sheriff Donna was in the front row, sharing a bucket of popcorn with Jody. Behind them sat Kevin, slurping from a paper cup through a straw. Further down, Becky was with her vampire boyfriend. She rested her head on his shoulder while he rubbed her belly, his pointed fingernails catching the light.

“Claire?” Came Cas’s horrified voice. True enough, Claire was in the crowd, tossing back a box of sour candies.

Dean tore his gaze away before he recognized anyone else. Around the edges of the room, large flower arrangements were set on stands. Instrumental music filtered through speakers. It was a funeral home. Behind him, where the casket should be, was the Ikea bed. He turned to Cas. “It’s like a nightmare, right?”

Cas met his eyes, then looked away sadly. “If that is how you see it, I suppose so.”

“No, you big idiot,” Dean lifted the angel’s chin with his finger. “I mean, performance anxiety. Like doing a book report. We just gotta block ‘em out.”

“Block them out?” A spark of mischief flickered through Castiel’s azure blue eyes. “That, I can handle.”

A spark went through the room, like blue lightning. Dean startled back, until he realized the source. It was Cas. He was forcing his wings into view, and the disturbance was like an electrical storm. He could just see the outline of them now, great black shapes that loomed up on either side of Cas.

Before Dean could process what was happening, he found himself flung backwards onto the bed. He felt the slide of Cas’s warm, firm body over his own. He glanced around nervously, only to discover that they were completely shielded from view by Cas’s dark wings. That alone was enough to push him to the brink.

Cas slid their cocks together, looking down at Dean with a strange mix of power and tenderness. “Do you enjoy that?” He sounded pleased, a little surprised.

“Yeah- yes,” Dean sputtered. He gripped onto Cas for dear life, his hips jerking up.

Cas puffed up his chest, and sparks shot through the air again. The shape of his wings spread and flexed around them. Dean came hard, his back arching up off the bed. It was too sudden for him to even be embarrassed about it. Cas was coming too then, and they grasped at one another, panting hard, the dark feathers shuddering all around their bodies. Everything began to fade to gray as the pleasure washed over Dean’s body and mind. He let his eyes fall shut as he relaxed.

Far away, someone was shouting for him. He heard the voice, distant and muffled. “Dean!”

He blinked open his eyes slowly, but didn’t move. There was a scuff of shoes, and Sam was kneeling over him. “Are you okay?” He turned Dean’s face this way and that, checking him for injuries.

“I’m fine, get off me.” Dean slapped Sam’s hands away, sitting up.

They looked over to Cas a few feet away, flat on his back, but his eyes were open. Dean stood and offered him a hand up. He felt himself smiling with relief as Cas got to his feet and brushed his coat smooth. They had made it.

Dean turned his triumphant smile to his brother, only to find Sam looking determinedly the other direction. “What’s the matter?” He looked at Cas, confused.

Sam was most definitely avoiding their eyes. “You guys… uh, have a good time?” He flailed his hand in Dean’s direction.

He felt it before he even looked down. The front of his pants were damp and sticky. A quick glance at Cas revealed the same.

Cas looked down at himself and frowned. He didn’t seem embarrassed so much as intrigued. “I wouldn’t classify the entire debacle as a ‘good time’ but everything did work out for the best,” he explained flatly.

Sam shook his head. “Great man, that’s all I need to know. Ever.” He turned and made his way toward the door.

“Hey,” Dean shouted after him. “We did what we had to do to survive. You weren’t there.” He started after his brother, then looked back toward Cas.

As he watched, Cas raised one hand toward the armoire, the one they had each been tied to. With barely a twitch, he exploded it into splinters. Then he turned and walked calmly past Dean. “That should do it,” he said.

Dean scrambled to follow, already half-hard in his jeans again.

-----

APRIL FOOLS! 

Finally she had cleared the area behind the car and along the driver’s side. Panting from exertion, Donna leaned on the shovel, looking over her hard work with satisfaction. Surely she had burned enough calories to earn herself an extra treat at lunch, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Now she just needed to pop back inside to change into her work clothes and she could head off.

John Smith looked out the window with a frown. When he had awoken and noticed the snowfall outside, his first instinct was to call in sick and stay home to enjoy it, but that idea had earned him a scolding. Apparently regular people had to earn a living whether or not it was the perfect type of snow for building a fort.

He pulled on a crocheted hat from his mother-in-law and retrieved the shovel from the storage closet. Giving one last dramatic sigh, he opened the door and ventured out into the cold.

It didn’t take him long to clear the walk. The snow was a little powdery, not too wet or heavy. With his long legs and strong arms, he made quick work of it. The car, however, would take a little more skill. He walked a full circle around it, then halfway back again, trying to scheme and plot the most efficient way to clear it out. At one point he stopped and put his hands on his hips, glaring at the vehicle.

A tapping sound caught his attention, and he glanced up at the house. He could just see the figure of a woman waving at him through the glass. She pointed at her wrist, then circled her pointer finger. Hurry up.

He got back to work. Scooping a great shovelful of snow, he tossed it over his shoulder. Again and again, he gradually cleared the area behind of the car and along both sides. At this rate he would be done in no time.

“OY!” A woman’s furious voice startled him, and he almost dropped the shovel. “What the bleedin’ hell is your problem!” As he spun to face her, she was marching right toward him, her eyes filled with rage. “You think you’re the only person who has somewhere to be today, mate?” She made the last word sound like a curse.

He opened and shut his mouth a few times, completely baffled. “Um, no? Sorry…”

They were toe-to-toe now. He could see red hair peeking out around the hood of her parka. “Oh I bet you’re sorry, you skinny wanker, and I’m about to make you even sorrier.”

She was smaller than him, but he found himself backing away. “Ma'am- there must be- I ‘m sure-” he stammered over his words. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“Upset me?” Her eyes widened. “Do you really think?” He could see her fists clenching up in anger.

Mercifully, he heard the front door open. His rescuer was on the way. “Hey there, hi,” she called out, hurrying toward the two of them. He smiled with relief as the redhead turned her attention away from him.

“Ah, Rose,” he said, as she reached his side and wrapped a hand protectively around his arm.

“Does this belong to you?” the redhead demanded.

“Yeah,” Rose began, giving the woman an apologetic smile. She was in her pajamas and house slippers, her coat unbuttoned in her rush to intervene. “He’s not from around here, you’ll have to excuse him. What’s the problem?”

“I just spent half an hour shoveling out my car, and then he comes out here and throws another whole pile where I’ve just cleared. I’m gonna be late for work because of you!” She pushed an accusing finger at his nose.

Nervous, he glanced to Rose for a cue. She was just staring at the woman, her mouth hanging open. He was on his own. “I suppose I could shovel it over again?” he offered hesitantly.

Her anger only slightly deflated. “Yeah, why don’t you do just that.” She huffed in annoyance, her breath turning to fog in the cold air.

“Donna?” Rose said softly. The other two looked at her, surprised.

The redhead narrowed her eyes. “We haven’t met,” she said, but sounded unsure. They both looked at each other for a long, tense moment.

He had to interrupt. “No, actually, but we have bumped into your husband, uh… Steve, wasn’t it? Lovely guy.”

She blinked, not convinced. “Shaun. We just moved here. He didn’t mention either of you.”

“I’m John Smith,” he stuck out his hand, “and this is my fiance, Rose Tyler.”

Donna shook hands with them both. Then all three of them stood still, glancing at one another.

“Well,” Rose finally broke the awkward silence. “We’d better get started if we’re ever going to get out of here.” She held out her hand for Donna’s shovel. “May I?”

Donna shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she frowned. “Get yourself back inside where it’s warm.” She watched until Rose had made it safely up the sidewalk and had shut the door.

He had already moved over and began to clear the space around her car when she turned back around. “Sorry I bit your head off,” she said softly. “Wasn’t much in the mood to leave the house today.”

“Ah, me neither,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips. “Snow like this needs to be appreciated.”

“Right?” she agreed, tossing a shovelful of snow. “I’d rather watch it from beside the fireplace than have to drive through such a sodding mess.”

He laughed between scoops. “Driving anywhere is just a drag, now isn’t it?”

Donna sighed. “The absolute worst. What I’d give for an easier way to get places.”

His smile vanished. “That would be something.” They both stepped back to admire their work. Rose was just stepping back outside, this time dressed properly for the weather.

“You take good care of her,” Donna told him. It sounded more like a threat than if anyone else had said it.

He hurried around to the driver’s side and Rose allowed him to help her into the car. She rolled her eyes, missing his anxious glance at Donna as he shut the door. When he folded himself into the passenger seat, she gave him a playful slap on the arm. “I’m not an invalid,” she teased.

“Not taking any chances,” he reached over and placed his hand on her round belly. Rose couldn’t help but grin at the sentimental look on his face.

Donna gave the horn a friendly tap as she backed out, pulling them from the moment. Rose waved goodbye. “So what’s all that about?” she wondered aloud. “You think it could be a coincidence?”

Steve paused a few yards from the edge, behind Tony. “Must be nice,” he said softly, looking out at the pattern of lights that spread out below them.

Tony’s legs dangled recklessly over the ledge. He passed Steve a bottle, almost two thirds empty. “I really fucked up this time.”

Not answering, Steve took a swig, then closed his eyes as the liquid burned down his throat. It was good, and strong. He wondered how full the bottle had been when Tony had come up here. He held on to it, for now.

Tony sighed. “I mean, I’m used to fucking up. Obviously; you can’t learn without making mistakes, can’t improve. But this-” he shook his head. “No man should have the power to fuck up quite so… so.... ” At a loss for words, he flung his arms out to indicate the vastness of his mistake.

Steve knew he couldn’t argue Tony’s fault in the matter, but this was not the time to add to the man’s self-imposed guilt trip. “We stopped it,” Steve reminded him. He moved to sit down next to his friend, but not as far out. Unlike Tony, he could survive a fall from this height, but it would still hurt.

“Barely.” Tony pulled the bottle out of Steve’s hand and took a long swallow. “Barely,” he repeated with a sigh. “Pulled it out of our ass, is what we did.”

“You say that like it’s not our usual method.”

Tony had to chuckle at that. He swirled the bottle, watching the liquid catch the twinkling lights from above and below. Before he could raise it to his lips for another drink, Steve gently plucked it from his hand and set it out of reach. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. Faint sounds of traffic drifted up to them in the wind, along with smells of the ocean mixed with exhaust fumes. Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Tony spoke again. “If I ever try to pull that shit again,” he began.

“Don’t,” Steve cut him off. They stared each other down for a few long seconds.

“You’re a good little boy scout,” Tony sneered. “If I get too cocky, if the power goes to my head, are you gonna let me put the whole planet at risk? I don’t think so.” His words were a little slurred, but his gaze was steady.

“You’re my friend,” Steve told him in reply.

Tony raised his chin. “Wouldn’t be the first friend you had to sacrifice for the greater good.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, then turned away, not giving Tony the satisfaction of a response. The man was still wallowing in guilt and self pity, and he clearly wanted to drag Steve down to wallow in the muck with him.

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself,” Tony went on. “I know you’d do the right thing when it came down to it.”

“The right thing,” Steve muttered. He turned and stared at the man beside him. “Right by whose standards? I’ve lost too many people. Don’t ask me to do that.”

Tony’s brown eyes were wide in the dim light. On a whim he raised his hand as if to touch Steve’s face, then hesitated, instead combing his fingers through the other man’s thick hair.

Steve felt his pulse speed up. He held as still as a statue. It was like being approached by a feral animal. Don’t startle it. He had to remind himself to breathe.

“I’ve lost people,” Tony began. “You know that. But I thought... I could make it mean something.” His thumb absently stroked Steve’s jaw as he spoke. “I could show everyone it wasn’t for nothing. Give their deaths meaning.” Tony shook his head bitterly, let his hand drop. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes. “I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.” He leaned forward, peering down over the edge of the roof, and Steve’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“Don’t talk like that. Please.” He didn’t have the right words, but he was desperate. “Listen to me. Your heart was in the right place. Who can ask more than that?”

Tony laughed bitterly. “I’m guessing- the families of all the people who were killed because of my brilliant invention? Yeah, they probably don’t give a shit where my heart was at.”

“What about all the people you’ve saved?” Steve was more terrified in this moment than facing a thousand killer robots. “I’m not saying you can make up for it, or that saving enough people will cancel out your mistakes…” He stopped, chewing his lip anxiously. Was he actually making this worse?

Not meeting his eyes, Tony nodded. “I get what you’re trying to say. I appreciate it.” He patted Steve on the knee. “You’re a sweet guy, Cap, but you can’t save everyone.”

Steve had just opened his mouth to protest the nickname, but Tony was gone. In half a heartbeat he had tipped forward and let himself drop off the edge of the roof. Steve scrambled after him, and was just in time to see his friend’s body disappearing into the darkness below. Without a thought, he flung himself over.

Newspaper headlines were flashing through his imagination. “Billionaire Commits Suicide” above a stock photo of a smiling, radiant Tony in happier days. Steve’s mind caught up as he was plummeting down through the cold night sky. Tony might be pissed when he saved him, but maybe he would be a little grateful. Either way, Steve couldn’t let the guy go out like this. He pressed his arms flatter to his sides like a human bullet, attempting to reduce the wind resistance and catch up to his friend. He was getting nearer by the second. It worked in his favor that Tony was spread out like a flying squirrel. Wait, what? Just as Steve got close enough to reach out and grab Tony around the waist, flipping them mid-air so he could take the brunt of the landing, Steve noticed a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.

Pieces of the Iron Man suit were snapping together around Tony’s arms and legs as they fell. One whacked Steve in the elbow and he momentarily lost his grip. As it dawned on Steve that he wasn’t actually saving Tony, and it was quickly turning into Tony saving him, he felt foolish. Another piece of the suit thumped him in the shin. Tony was grabbing ahold of him, and their descent was slowing. By the time their trajectory changed and they were headed back up, Tony had both metal-clad arms wrapped around Steve’s torso.

They floated up past the roof, then gently came back down. Steve pushed away as soon as his feet touched solid ground. Tony laughed. “Come on, that was fun. You’re like my Lois Lane!” The suit was already disassembling itself into a neat pile in the center of the roof. Steve silently scolded himself for not noticing it when he first came up.

He looked around and saw that the bottle was right where they’d left it. He slumped down near the edge and took a long chug, then set it down hard, almost cracking the glass.

Tony eased down beside him. “Sorry, man,” he said, not sounding very remorseful at all. “I thought you might do that, but I wasn’t completely sure.”

Steve shot him a bitter look.

“Maybe next time you won’t,” Tony shrugged. He took a drink, then looked out thoughtfully over the city. “I’ve been doing this for the past few hours. It’s kind of like therapy.” When Steve didn’t answer, he gave him a gentle punch of the shoulder. “Hey man,” Tony said gently.

Steve turned and looked him in the eyes. “Fuck you.”

Tony was taken aback. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not. That was really ...cruel.” He stared at Tony for a few seconds. “That’s exactly how I lost Bucky.”

Realization dawned on Tony’s face. He opened his mouth to apologize.

Steve cut him off. “I watched him fall. I can’t-” He grimaced, the memory bringing almost tangible pain. “I’ve replayed that in my head a thousand times. I wished I’d gone after him, even if it meant we both died. I should have. I could’ve spared him from everything they put him through.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tony said, his voice almost a whisper. Gently, slowly, he took Steve’s hand in both of his. “I didn’t even think of-”

“I can’t lose any more friends,” Steve insisted. “I can’t watch you fall. Don’t do that to me.” There was fire in his eyes, not quite anger anymore, yet something that burned even hotter. “I just… can’t.”

Tony nodded, not breaking their gaze. This was a new side of Steve he had not previously considered. It was reckless, selfish. He was intrigued. “What about the rest of the world? All those innocent bastards?”

Steve brought his free hand to grab at Tony’s shirt, pulling him closer. His other fist was still cradled in Tony’s smaller hands. He shook his head. “I can’t,” was all he said. He leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. “I can’t.” At the last second, he pulled away and looked down at the lights of the buildings stretching out across the horizon.

Tony pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s temple. He wrapped his forearm around Steve’s neck and pulled him closer.

Dean let out a strangled laugh. He’d used that as a cheesy pickup line plenty of times, usually without success. He rubbed his hand over the back of his head.

“I’m not sure why that was humorous,” Cas said, squinting at him.

“No, it’s not,” Dean apologized. “Nevermind.” It took all his willpower not to move back when Cas took a step towards him.

“Sam was correct,” Cas stated, “there is no advantage in throwing away the hours that remain.”

Dean just stared, his heart in his throat. His eyes grew wider and wider as Cas drew closer.

“It would be... remiss to pretend I haven’t sensed your longings, Dean.”

“Longings?” Dean squeaked.

There was no teasing in Castiel’s expression. He waited for Dean’s response, his gaze cool and unflinching.

“Okay, so, let’s say there were… longings. What about you?”

A tiny smile flickered at Cas’s mouth, his eyes crinkled at the edges. “Of course, Dean. I have longings for-” he paused, stood a little straighter. “I have spent a great deal of time considering- you. I often hoped for something more between us.”

Dean wondered if this is what a heart attack felt like. He couldn’t feel his fingers. “Something more? Li- like…”

Cas did not waver. “Physical. Emotional. Sexual. Romantic. Take your pick.”

Words eluded him, so Dean nodded dumbly.

Cas stepped closer still. “Is that how you wish to spend what is probably our last night alive?”

Again, Dean could only nod.

Finally, finally, Cas closed the gap between them and brought his hand up to Dean’s cheek. Dean was busy trying to remember how to breathe so he wouldn’t pass out. This was finally happening. He’d wondered about this so many times, but always pushed it out of his mind. No point mooning over things that could never be. Yet here they were,  the angel’s soft, dry lips just millimeters away from his own. He shut his eyes.

Cas brushed his mouth across Dean’s, so lightly it could barely be called a kiss. Dean shivered. He leaned in, needy, but Cas moved back. He cupped Dean’s face in both hands, giving him a stern look, then kissed him again, their lips touching so lightly that Dean found himself gripping the fabric of Cas’s jacket to try and steady himself. Cas pulled back again, mischief in his eyes as his gaze flickered over Dean’s slack face.

At last Dean found his voice. “Come on man, fuckin’ kiss me!” He tried to tug Cas closer.

Cas was immovable. “Do you have someplace to be, Dean?”

Dean couldn’t stop staring at those lips. “Shit, dude. I thought you wanted to do this. Get more physical, or whatever.” He cringed at how juvenile that sounded, but Cas had already started to unbutton Dean’s flannel.

“If a prompt ejaculation is all you want, then I suggest you take care of it yourself.” He pushed the shirt down over Dean’s shoulders and tugged the sleeves off his arms. “But as I already told you, I have considered every variable, all possible scenarios, and I would prefer not to rush this.” He pulled Dean’s t-shirt up over his head, then crouched down to work on his belt buckle.

Dean’s arms hung useless at his sides. Words had left him again. He reminded himself to blink, before his eyes could fall out of their sockets. Once Dean was stripped down to just his boxer briefs, Cas gave him a gentle shove back onto the bed, then crawled up to join him, still fully dressed. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice rough and low.

“Too many clothes, buddy,” Dean said, his voice just above a whisper.

Standing up again, Cas shucked off his jacket and let it fall to the floor. He loosened his tie and pulled it over his head. Dean could only stare. It was nothing like any striptease he had ever seen or imagined; this was so much better. Cas undressed at a measured pace, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. Once he was down to only a pair of boxer shorts, he climbed up beside him again; he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, finally grabbing a short handful before he leaned down to crash their mouths together. This time he kissed Dean properly, exploring with his lips and tongue, taking his sweet time until Dean was gasping and arching up into him.

Again, he paused to look Dean over. They had hardly begun and the hunter already looked utterly wrecked. Cas cracked a little smile, satisfied with his effect so far. Dean’s pupils were dilated and his body was flushed pink. “Cas, please,” he groaned.

Taking pity, Cas lowered his mouth to Dean’s chest and began a slow trail of biting and sucking, until he took a detour across the inside of Dean’s bicep and heard a soft grunt of frustration. He pulled away, sitting back on his heels.

“Dude, what are you waiting for?” Dean complained, pushing up onto his elbows. Despite his frustration, he was distracted by this semblance of Cas turned on: his hair mussed from Dean’s fingers, his lips parted, his chest heaving. So much for angelic control.

Cas peered down at him for an achingly long moment. “The better question is, why are you in such a hurry?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “We have approximately nine hours and eleven minutes until daybreak. Even if you plan for a minimum six hours of sleep, I would like to put the rest of that time to it’s fullest use.”

“Wait, do you mean-” Dean made a sour face, trying to do the math in his head, but the blood flow necessary for thinking was busy elsewhere.

Steadily, Cas put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed. “Roughly three hours and ten minutes. Would you like to continue arguing?” Dean shook his head frantically.

Cas bent down to his kiss his neck, then spent a few minutes sucking at a tender spot just under his jawline. Dean clawed at the sheets, throwing his head back. Then Cas brought his mouth to Dean’s ear and whispered raggedly, “in case this is our one and only time together, I plan to make it memorable.” Dean made a desperate, embarrassing noise in his throat as Cas’s mouth began to explore his torso.

By the time Cas reached the elastic of his briefs and began to ease them down, Dean was shaking with anticipation, tears leaking from his eyes as he whimpered and writhed. Also by that point, Dean couldn’t care less how he looked.