#dirty prayers

(S6 AU in which Dean knows how to booty call an angel xD)

The telltale fluttering noise reaches Dean’s ears, and a grin is on his face even before he turns around.

Cas seems less amused. “Dean, what have I told you about calling me down here?”

Dean doesn’t have a mirror at hand to check, but he’s sure he looks like the epitome of innocence right now. “You told me to only bother you when there’s an emergency,” he recites.

“Exactly,” Cas sighs, but he treads further into the room nonetheless. “As you’re aware, I have important matters to attend to-”

“But Cas, this is an emergency,” Dean insists, and he clasps his hands before his crotch in an attempt to carry on his own version of innocent choir boy. More importantly, he knows damn well where this motion redirects the focus of Cas’ gaze. (Just to be sure though, and while they’re already down there, he lets his fingers trace the area of his inner thigh most inconspicuously).

Lo and behold, the picture of the perfect heavenly soldier starts to crumble. Even though Cas’ body language is as subtle as ever, Dean’s learned long ago to read him like a book. The signs don’t slip his attention: he watches closely as Cas’ lips part of their own accord, how his throat works around a swallow once he snaps his mouth shut again.

A good start for Dean. Now he just needs to keep it up.

“Asking me what I’m wearing right now counts as an emergency?” Cas retorts finally. He doesn’t scoff, but the judgment is still audible in his voice. Still: that’s head tilt number ’you humans are so fascinating’ which, translated into Dean-speak, ranks as a ’let’s see where this is going’-raise of the eyebrows.  

Well, now. If Cas wants to play, they’ll play.

“Damn right it does,” Dean nods. “You know, it was becoming rather urgent for little Dean to get that kind of information.”

Cas rolls his eyes dramatically, but dumbass can be sure that Dean sees that ghost of a smile that flashes over his face before Cas regains control over his facial features.

“Dean, I really don’t have the time for this.” Cas’ eyes turn heavenward, which Dean interprets is the equivalent of glancing impatiently at his watch.

Dean knows how serious Cas takes his work, knows how important it is in the grand scheme of things. But he’s let Dean into his life now, and Dean knows that you can’t keep working yourself silly without carving out a little time for yourself once in a while.

Dean takes his role very seriously too, self-proclaimed as it may be. And he knows for a fact that it’s been way too long since Cas got some me-time. Or Dean-time, in this case, he guesses.

So no, Dean won’t back down this time.

“If it helps,” Dean tries. “My emergency does have a little to do with angels and research.” It’s hard to keep a mischievous grin off his face, but Dean’s got just the right motivation to try.

He gestures towards the table, at a small painting in a book he’s been leafing through for a case. It shows an angel, sprawled elegantly on a rock, unashamedly showing off his crotch. The angel’s almost completely naked if not for that white piece of fabric that falls across his chest. “I just couldn’t help wondering about the dress code this guy sets,” continues Dean. “I just had to thoroughly research this subject. I thought, hey, I have a very good friend who’d be the perfect primary source! Is that what you wear too, while you’re fighting the good fight up there, pray tell?” He finishes his little speech with a perfectly timed wink.

Cas glances at the painting with such obvious disinterest that it’s gotta be faked. “We don’t look like that,” he informs him. “Usually. That’s Gabriel, he likes to flaunt.”

Scandalized, Dean hurries to close the book with a thud. “Ew,” he says. Looking up nudes of Cas’ most eccentric brother’s really not been part of the plan. What a mood killer. Now he has to find a way to get back on track.

“Anyway,” he attempts a do-over. He slips behind Cas, the better to whisper seductively in Cas’ ear, his hands sliding down his shoulders and arms and back, anywhere they can reach. “Let’s get a look under all those layers, huh.” It’s not as smooth as Dean had planned, but ‘smooth’ flew out the window the moment Cas mentioned Gabriel.

From the way Cas’ muscles slowly but surely relax under Dean’s ministrations, Dean knows he’s almost cracked him.

Almost.

“Dean, your dirty prayers have the-” Cas insists on being a stubborn bastard right up until his voice culminates in a gasp (which, in turn, conjures a smug smile on Dean’s face). “The worst timing.”

If Cas were serious about not having the time for a little tryst, he’d whooshed off already. He’s just playing hard to get now, that little shit.

“Sorry,” Dean breathes against the sensitive skin of Cas’ neck. He’s not sorry at all. “Couldn’t stop myself.” Huffing a laugh that’s not free of smugness, he adds, “Got you here, didn’t it.”

“Hmmm,” Cas makes. “I suppose we could-” Cas starts, and oh how Dean loves rendering him incoherent. “We could squeeze in a little, uh. A little time for-”

But Dean’s already slid around Cas again, and he backs him up until the back of his knees hit the mattress. “Mmmm,” he agrees.

Cas falls. Dean readily follows suit. “Wanna try that thing I prayed?”

And that wakens a hunger in Cas’ eyes that’s been slumbering just below that stoic surface all along. With a determined grunt, Cas flips them around until it’s Dean whose back presses into the mattress.

“That a yes?” Dean asks.

He gets his answer.

He gets the literal answer to his prayers, by an actual angel. He’s the luckiest man alive.

*

Later, when they’re lying side by side on the bed, arms pressed together comfortably and no thought wasted on moving even an inch, Dean’s still wondering at the irony of it all.

That it’s him of all people who gets to have an angel on his shoulder –or in his bed, when he’s really lucky. Like today.

“I should go back,” Cas murmurs, but the words sound like they’re being dragged out by force. Cas is very fond of the afterglow.

“If it helps,” Dean says, addressing the unspoken guilt Cas feels for indulging in this while a war rages up in Heaven. “Answering prayers of a faithless man – that’s gotta count for something, right? I think you’ve been a really upstanding, uh, angel today.” Dean fights a fit of giggles that bubbles up his throat. He loses the fight. “Just saying. You’re setting a good example for all the harp players up there. I’m diggin’ your dedication, buddy.”

“Answering prayers is important,” Cas agrees.

“Well, then,” Dean mock-salutes to Cas. “Thank you for your service on this godforsaken earth,” he says as solemnly as he can through the giggles that can’t seem to stop coming.

Cas stares at the side of Dean’s head, completely unperturbed by Dean’s strange behavior. “It was my pleasure,” Cas assures.

“Literally, I hope?”

It'spathetic to ask, but Cas doesn’t care.