#model cas

Dean tries his best to explain but at the end of the day, and because they still need to monitor the case on a closer level, they agreed with talent scout to have a screen testing the next day. Dean was also asked but he politely declined. The worse thing he can land himself in as a hunter is to be under the public scrutiny who will follow his every movement.

Cas on the other hand has a lesser risk because Cas doesn’t care. The angel is an enigma and can get himself out of situations with one flap of his wings.

So here they are, just another day with another case inside a studio with Dean trying to focus his attention to any supernatural occurrence around, but really the only supernatural thing happening at the moment will be Castiel half-naked in a setup of white clouds and overcast skies for of a Bruce Almighty segment.

And Cas’ theme?

Angels.

Dean still can’t stop laughing at the irony and kept the hilarity of knowing how no one is capable of cracking any expression from the angel’s stony face.

It was all fun at first when Castiel was dragged away and Dean was hollering when he spoke to Sam over the phone about the developments of the Djinn case preying on dreamers in the modelling agency that has killed two victims so far. He waited for Cas to come out imagining the long white toga the angel would be wearing like one of those pictures of angels with harps. Cas hates those representations and Dean can’t wait to bawl his eyes out laughing.

Meanwhile, Dean smiles and winks at beautiful models passing by and to his credit, they all give him a disgusted look. Oh well. No one likes the police these days.

He was busy ogling at himself in one of those giant reflectors when Castiel’s team came out. Dean was ready to make fun of him imagining Cas finally in proper angel dress— only to get a slap in the face when he sees Castiel stripped off his trench coat and toga—but was wearing a blue tight jean showing a well-shaped round ass and loose white button-down shirt where the barest of holy skin is peeking.

[sexy Cas art here]

Dean gasps, electric shock hitting him straight to Manhattan because holy fuck this isn’t what he was expecting—what the hell happened to the angel theme?

It didn’t help that almost everyone has the same reaction and if the photographer wasn’t there barking his directions, Dean’s sure Castiel will be smothered to death.

“That magazine is going to be sold out.” Says one of the crew guys standing behind the lighting next to Dean, “I’ve never seen anyone so… cute and hot and…” a struggle for the right words then— “divine. How does he do that?”

“Exists?” Dean drawls with arms tightly crossed on his chest. The crew guy beside him snorts.

“He can easily get followers and we need models with huge fan base online, you know, free advertising.”

Dean half-rolled his eyes at the crew member mesmerized by the amateur model. Half an hour later, green eyes following Castiel’s every movement in the middle of a battlefield of flashing cameras and light reflectors, of smothering group of stylists with powders ready at hand and demanding photographers asking for a ridiculous mood board— and what’s with all those hands touching Castiel?

Dean can’t help feeling sour every time the assistant manager runs to Cas’ side just to dust his shoulder, open his collar more or when he simply tilts Castiel’s jaw the right way—Dean is livid—who touches his angel so casually with grubby hands!?

And he’s beyond control when he sees the man opening Castiel’s button-down wider like—just strip them out stop teasing! Dean finds himself shrinking to the wall while murmuring curses and snapping on the phone every time Sam calls. They have work to do and Sam’s been constantly asking for updates while he works the field over the victim’s family for any lead to follow and Dean only has eyes for his angel being instructed by the photographer. Cas was bewildered at first with all the goading and salacious comments, Dean cringing for his friend. Castiel looked miffed at some point, but Dean can’t go to his side yet. If he does, he might grab him and leave the premises and that’s not being professional.

They need to find the Djinn among these people soon.

Standing in the sideline watching his friend try different angle that surprisingly fits him— except the photographer is losing his patience with the dorky angel who doesn’t understand structure and context—

“This is like a dance, move those sexy hips, give me suave look, pout lips— that’s grumpy, baby—give me seduction—yes those blues, seduce me— seduce me, don’t murder me! That’s it, you got this sweetheart, make me melt with that look! Melt me—melt—where are you going—?”

“You said melt you—I” he raises a hand—

Dean nearly jumps from the wall to stop Cas smiting any hollering directors but then—

“Go back in position, sweetheart, don’t make me lose all my hair where you can’t see them—okay, look devious—devious—don’t frown— imagine a blade in your hand. Now that’s fantastic, a tilt of the head? Adorable, now quit that, we’re aiming for sex appeal! Now make me want to have you—pout those sexy lips—pout, pucker them—forward—no, don’t slump forward you’re not Quasimodo’

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“Give me passion—give me something you want so badly!”

Castiel glances at Dean.

“He’s not bad,” Dean grunts to himself as he meets the blue eyes. Castiel pulls back and stares up the sky. Dean doesn’t know what he sees there but the sigh that came out is drawn long.

When the photographer exhaustingly shouted five minutes break, Dean watches Cas get crowded by the stylists to one corner, hearing them praise the angel about not sweating and giving him googly eyes.

Dean leaves the room and heads straight to the vending machine stations. He was just about to push for a coke when two members of the crew stop beside him to use the next vending machine supplying chocolate bars. Dean would have ignored them except one of them says Cas’ fake agent name.

“Wright? Got everything wrong. Yeah, he got the face but he’s so stupid. Giovanni’s giving all the best instructions and the model just stands there like a wall. Doesn’t even bat an eyelid, he’s like a hammer, at least a hammer is lethal, that Wright guy doesn’t know any instructions.”

“You know what they say about pretty faces, they lack a brain.” says his companion. They snicker and press for chocolate bars.

Dean remains silent as two cokes slide down the port with clanking sounds. He bends to take them quietly.

“The bar is stuck,” says one of the crew members.

“Don’t add to my shit day, it’s a long day already with that useless model—” A loud crashing sound breaks in the corridor as Dean slams his fist on the metal side of the machine. The chocolate bars fall on the slot with the crew’s mouth hanging open.

“Your bars.” He says, walking away but not without leaving a huge dent on the corner of the machine. He hears the whispers after him, the comments about the public property but Dean doesn’t care. He could easily smash their faces but he’s not that violent.

He gotta get Cas out of there.

Speaking of the angel, Cas is immediately in his space the moment Dean returns in the studio.

“Dean,” he says in his usual gravely voice, “where did you go? Are you okay?”

“Hey, how’s the pretty model?” Dean dismisses him as he let his eyes roam the model’s gorgeous new look as he hands Cas his coke. “You don’t look bad, Cas, you’re killing it there.” Actually, killing them, he adds thoughtfully.

Castiel raises a hand to reach the refreshment, but he ends up pulling Dean’s other hand.

“Thank you, now why is your hand hurt?” blue eyes stare at him dead in the eyes. That kind that really goes straight to your soul.

Dean swallows hard. He can never understand why Castiel cares so much. He’s spent years without anyone watching his back and now he’s got his own angel. Dean really doesn’t know who to thank for that.

“Nothing,” Dean tries to pull his hand to no avail, “The vending machine was broken, had to get my money’s worth,”

“I don’t think that is a good displace of a public officer,” Castiel raises it closer to his lips and kisses the pain away.

“An angel would know, huh?” Dean sighs upon feeling Castiel’s grace smoothen the slight tingling pain and pulls his hand back once Castiel lets him. Castiel’s eyes are still intent on him.

“What’s the development with the Djinn?”

“Uh… yeah, Sam’s on it and since you’re playing the sexy bait—”

“I don’t think any Djinn would find me appealing,” Castiel confesses and it’s too adorable not to take the chance to tease so Dean grins.

“Oh, come on, who knows? You might marry one someday?”

“Angels don’t marry.”

“Sure, they don’t, they also don’t do modelling,”

 “Well, I’m not attracting them right now as I am anyone in this place, I’m failing you, Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Are you kidding? You’re like hot captain garrison out there—very good mood play with the face, it’s so uh—angelically unreadable, and nice button toss,” Dean reaches a hand to Castiel’s collar and in swift movements, because his hands have been itching, he buttons it all the way up Castiel’s throat. “Let’s just not show too much when your off-duty.”

“Off-duty?”

“Off—like uh turn off the sense responsibility?”

“I see,” Castiel narrows his eyes. “The basic human response when feeling lethargic. Indifference to things that do not directly harm them. I am not that. I am feeling quite fit, in fact, even when my thighs can’t freely move from this…  suffocating jeans,”

They both look down the angel’s thighs and Dean licks his lips. When opportunity just presents itself, who is he to deny himself the pleasure? But then—

“It’s impossible to get in that dress alone—Cas did they—?”

“I ripped two pairs,” Castiel says quietly. Dean stops, eyes wide.

“W-what?”

“I tried putting them on my own, they won’t fit. I tore them to shreds whenever I pull it up, so they had to help me,”

Dean makes a face, “Yep, dorky Hercules,”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“Sam ripped his jeans once too,” Dean smiles from ear to ear, “We were digging and he’s so tall and his jeans are frigging tight and he bents down and—" he makes a tearing sound which makes Castiel slowly smile.

“That I understand.”

Dean laughs.

“You do. Look, Cas, I know the photographer’s being a hard dick on you…but it’s not your fault you can’t understand the references because we’re the ones not adjusting to you… now look here, buddy… you can’t trick a fish to climb a tree so it’s okay to just be you…um… you get what I mean?”

Castiel is still smiling softly. “I understand you are trying to comfort me,”

Dean shrugs. “Is it working?”

Castiel tips his head, “Have you been a model, Dean?”

“I’ve been everywhere,” Dean tells him mysteriously and gives his friend a pat on the shoulders, “So later you’ll go get em, little tiger,”

Castiel nods

“Excuse me, Mr Wright?” they both turn to a young lady in a black crew shirt with a clipboard is standing behind the angel. “We need to set up your wings for the next op,”

“Set up my wings?” Castiel quickly turns at Dean and if that doesn’t get the hunter to act quickly, nothing will. He immediately holds Castiel’s shoulder and tightened his grip so his friend doesn’t interrupt.

“Where is it? I’m going to help him,”

“There’s really no need, we have plenty of staff—"

“I insist,” Dean gives her his most brilliant flashing smile and she quickly points the direction of the props room. Dean drags Castiel there.

Dean picks up a fake white wing with wires and holsters and shows it to Cas who easily frowns who presses it back to Dean’s hands.

“I have wings,”

“Yeah, not like you can let people see the shadow flip-flap thing, okay?”

“Flip flap thing?” Castiel repeats uncertainly, eyebrows raising. Dean shrugs.

“You know, making your ginormous shadow show in the flashing lights—you can’t do that. They want a model and yeah, they need to do marketing, but not that kind. No flip-flap of wings,” Dean throws the wings back at the table.

“I will use my wings I just have to contain my power so it doesn’t break into its real form.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do anything.” Castiel’s eyes suddenly glow without warning and Dean steps back as Castiel raises his magnificent wings with the cracking sparks of fluorescent lamp and there is Castiel, the angel of the lord, in all his glory and dorkiness included max out—Dean’s eyes reflect and behold its beauty. Until the power steadily holds and shrinks down to a fitting one enough at least to make him fit a door.

The power in the air subsides and Dean realizes how he is holding his breath. The beauty of his friend did not strike him in its real essence until now—where Castiel is actually bare in front of him with his black wings’ appearance. He exhales and stands next to the angel where he can see his wings.

It strikes Dean yet again how Castiel is an angel. But every time he looks at his friend, in this form, in this vessel, he's just ultimately... Cas. 

"That's fucking hot, Cas,"

Castiel smiles all gummily. "Thank you, Dean."

“Can mortal eyes see this now?”

“Yes,"

Dean whistles. Then there's that question that's been itching to be said, a question Dean knows won't leave him in peace if he doesn't ask now. Because it's now or never.

“Uh...Cas...can I touch it?”

Castiel's glance is an automatic sharp look that Dean can describe as a shock, but then the angel nods slightly without looking at him. He doesn’t reach. Something about Castiel’s reaction is bugging him.

“Are you sure I can?”

“Yes, please."

Dean takes him to his word and runs his fingers on the wings, his fingers sinking on the soft feathers like it’s made of cloud. Castiel trembles under his touch with a slight moan escaping his lips. Dean stares and sees the tip of Castiel’s ears are red.

"It's beautiful..." Dean licks his lips, "Cas... you... you're truly magnificent, have I told you that?"

"Not in so many words," Castiel doesn't look at him.

Dean just knows he is also having a mental breakdown.

“C-Cas?”

“It’s fine,” the angel whispers, head bent. “Just a little… it’s never been touched by human hands.”

Dean wavers on the spot and takes steps back in shock.

“Y-you mean—I’m the first one—I’m your first?!”

Castiel glances over his shoulder, his eyes leveled. He nods. "What's mine is yours, Dean. I'm yours."

Dean Winchester's head is a puddle melted and stirred by none other than the hottest angel in the garrison. He wants to tell Castiel never to say something like that- not when they are in a room alone because Dean is only a man- instead, he pulls Cas into a deep kiss. It's unexpected and truly catching them both in surprise, but when Castiel doesn't pull, Dean sighs and holds Castiel's shoulders steady. He doesn't know if he can tell Castiel that, but Cas is one of the best kissers he knows attributed to the pizzaman. 

To Dean's delight, Castiel kisses him back. It's swift and lingering when Cas bites his bottom lip and runs their tongue together in a dance. He never thought he'd be kissing Cas like this. Then there's the noise Cas makes, especially when Dean runs his palms on the smooth surface of his chest. Dean pulls only to breathe because angels don't do that, the moment he does, Castiel is there capturing his mouth in another heated kiss and Dean drowns in him.

Castiel is absurdly hot. All the bumps and contours his palm lands into, Dean can't help getting electrified. He knows he is getting hard and there's only one thing left to do- he slips his right knee between Castiel's legs and grinds his steadily hardening groin on Castiel's thighs. The sensation is instantaneous and Castiel doesn't let up. The angel kisses him between the soft moan and sighs that all can Dean do is cling tight on the angel's hipbones. He wants to do many things to Cas aside from pressing hard on him with hands roaming all sacred places that make Cas catch his breath too. He wants to tell Cas to take them away but the thought of his brother facing a Djinn stops all his thoughts.

But he promises himself he will take this. He and Cas, later, tonight, they will have this.

Dean pulls back knowing anyone can come to get the model and when he did, Castiel flaps his wings demandingly, frowning at Dean's withdrawal. Dean doesn't know what to say to that so instead, he soothes the angel by running his hands on the smooth surface of the wings. He sees Castiel's eyes droop, sees the contortion of eyebrows leaving the heavenly forehead, knows that Cas is relaxing under his care. There's a long sigh when Dean is done and he stares at his shaking hands next.

“Dean, can you stay beside me,” Castiel says looking slightly put out and Dean quickly steps right into his space and stares Castiel in the eyes. Castiel doesn't even question the kiss. Dean thinks they still need to talk about it later. For now...

“What’s up?”

“I don’t want anyone else touching it,” Castiel says deadly serious. Dean is about to point to himself but the angel holds his gaze and adds, “Except you.”

Dean wants to hide his face somewhere.

“Dean, are you okay? Your face is red—Dean?” Dean turns away from the angel, body reaching boiling point if he thinks more about what else Castiel is allowing him to do when his phone rings. Still a little shaken, he answers softly only to be greeted by his impatient brother—

“Dammit, Dean! I’ve been trying to reach you for a full ten minutes! I got the Djinn in the warehouse—you may want to help me out! And stop making a pass at Cas! Now is not that time!”

So the kiss was only ten minutes?

“I’m not making a pass, give me the location, bitch,” Dean listens carefully and once he’s done, he turns to the angel apologetically. Castiel’s expression turns serious.

“I understand, we are here for a case, after all, I am sorry my job is in your way.”

Dean stares at him in awe.

“Cas, you’re not a real model, we’re ditching this job!”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

They were just about to leave the building when Castiel remembers to get his trench coat. Making a side trip back to the changing areas, Dean meets Sam halfway who informs him the Djinn has been taken care of no thanks to Dean daydreaming about his model boyfriend.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Anyway, where’s Cas?”

There’s a scream from the changing room.

The Winchesters exchanged glances and together they run inside to find Castiel standing in the middle of the room wings spread out and on his hands is the talent scout they’ve spoken to yesterday. Dean’s mind reels—is this another Djinn?

No, that’s human!

“Hey, Cas—no, no we don’t smite talent scouts!” Dean hurries beside the angel, firm grasp on his arm as he tugs it back, causing the talent scout to fall on the floor coughing. Sam is beside him at once while Dean deals with the hot-headed-angel. “Cas, what the hell!”

“He says he wants you,” Castiel growls back, pure anger hatred in his eyes.

“What?”

“He says he wants to take you and you have given me permission to defend myself

Dean throws the talent scout a dirty look. “What exactly did you say to him?

“I said I wanted to recruit you, okay?”

“Not your exact words,” Dean narrows his eyes. The talent scout grimaces.

“I said I want you, that’s it, is it hard to understand? I want him too,” the talent points at Sam while massaging his throat, “You brothers would make the best boxer models,”

Dean blinks at Sam who stares back in disgust.

“No, thanks,” his brother says, “not my dream come true.”

“Might be mine,” Dean turns to the agent, “Okay, dude, here’s the thing—we’re done being models and frankly, it’s not even the safest job. Now leave Cas alone too, he’s cut for it, but not for us...”

“What made you choose him anyway?” Sam wants to know. Dean throws his brother an incredulous look.

“The man was smiling like a real angel when I saw him, of course, I’d recruit him.”

And Dean looks back to when it was before the scout approached them, he and Castiel standing side by side and talking about the most mundane things Dean has done that day. It’s weird because not once has Castiel said about not understanding reference when the topic is about Dean.

Castiel gets him. Dean is his reference. It makes sense.

Sliding an arm around Castiel’s shoulder, he pulls him closer and smiles.

“Come on, Cas, time to go home.”

Castiel slowly looks at him, really looks deep inside his soul, and the angel smiles—and Dean’s glad he can crack that from such a handsome face.

“Yes, Dean.”❤

-end- ao3- ❤