Author: @howtumblrruinedmylife
Artist: @solstheimart
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: ~30500
Tropes: friends-to-lovers, AU, slow burn, no supernatural, first time, John Winchesterâs A+ parenting, no internalized homophobia, just very oblivious boys in love, hurt/comfort, idiots in love
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: side pairing: Sam/Eileen; addiction, alcoholism, descriptions of addictive behavior, description of the aftermath of a car accident, death of a family member (off screen, non-violent)
Summary:
A new neighbor moves into the house next to Deanâs and before he can say so much as âhelloâ, Cas has crashed right into his life, carved out a spot for himself and Dean canât imagine it any other way. Cas is probably the best friend Dean has ever had, and since Deanâs life also includes Charlie, that means a lot. It doesnât stop a lot of people from asking weird questions, though, and at some point, Dean has to face the simple fact: why does everyone assume they are gay?
Excerpt below the cut
âDonât tell anyone,â Dean says, grinning conspiratorially, âBut they all just want to scope you out.â Of course they all mean well and Castiel probably knows all of this, but. âWelcome to Wisteria Lane,â he adds, laughing.
âIs that what youâre doing, too?â Castielâ Cas asks, squinting at Dean, and his straightforwardness is kind of disarming and charming at the same time.
âOh, always,â Dean admits with a wink, leaning into it. âIâm just brutally honest about it upfront.â
Slowly, Cas nods, accepts that the way he accepted Deanâs earlier sentence, word by word.
Charlie appears beside him again with an already opened bottle of soda for both of them. He thanks her with a nod and a smile and toasts to her, then extends the bottle towards Cas. âThanks for the invitation.â
âYouâre welcome. If Iâm being honest, Iâm still a bit overwhelmed but I also look forward to getting to know all my new neighbors.â Glass clinks against glass, a sound that Dean tries to ignore.
âSimple, just talk to them like regular, civilized Americans do â canât run them all over,â he teases instead.
âWell, I wouldnât have, if theyâd looked left, right, left, before crossing the sidewalk,â Cas lobs right back without missing a beat, deadpan.
Dean snorts, taken by surprise, again. So thatâs how this guyâs humor works. Dean digs it. âGood thing the police were already on-site to handle the incident, right?â
With a way too serious expression, which is all facade, Cas nods. âThank you for your service, officer.â
Dean catches his bottom lip between his teeth in order to not smirk. He thinks he knows whatâs up, and itâs time to test that theory. âItâs Dean.â
The expression falters, and eventually cracks. â...I knew that.â
Dean raises an eyebrow at Cas, bemused and more than a little smug.
Cas shrugs, averts his eyes. Busted. âI may have forgotten your name, yes. You got me there.â
âAt least I donât need to feel bad for missing half of yours, then.â Dean openly smirks now, canât be helped. âGuess weâre even.â
For a moment, they just look at each other, then burst out laughing. Casâ laugh is rough and warm, and it settles, somewhere deep in Deanâs insides. It makes him feel a little lightheaded, but that might be because he always forgets to hydrate properly when heâs on patrol.
Wheezing, Dean offers, âOkay, letâs start over, then? Hello, Iâm Dean Winchester, Iâm with the KCPD, Iâm an aquarius. I like long walks on the beach. Nice to meet you.â
Cas collects himself enough to take Deanâs hand to shake it. His hands are big and dry, and the pressure around Deanâs knuckles is signaling confidence. âNice to meet you, too. Castiel Novak, former FBI, virgo. I like doing yoga.â
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I'm so excited to finally get to share the art I did for @blueraven06's The Curse of Years for the @supernaturaltropecelebration! This was such a fun fic to do art for. đ
Title: The Curse of years
Author: @blueraven06 [AO3]
Artist: @rauko-creates [Instagram] [AO3]
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel
Rating: General
Word Count: ~9k
Tropes: Curse, all human au Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: hunter castiel, cursed Dean winchester, human Castiel
Summary: On a hunt, Castiel stumbles upon Dean Winchester, a fellow hunter. However, there is something strange about Dean. A long time ago, Dean was cursed, making him immortal and forced to watch everyone he loves die.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Characters: Castiel, Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester
Additional Tags: Supernatural Trope Celebration 2020 (Supernatural & Supernatural RPF), Supernatural Trope Celebration 2020, Fanart, Four of Swords, Mal drew a thing, Hey new tag
Warning: None except cute children moments and loving affection
Trope: Leaving Food for Santa
Rating: Teen
A/N: This was written for the @supernaturaltropecelebrationâ Mini Christmas bang. It doesnât correspond with the current events of the show, so please donât chew me out because I mention two characters that shouldnât be mentioned together at the same time, I beg. It's only for the fic and couldnât help myself! :) And images used here are not mine. Found on Pinterest and Google so credit goes to their creators.
My Masterlist
âDADDY!!!â
You smiled as you saw your girls run towards Dean, wrapping their little arms and legs around his legs as he walked into the kitchen. He had gone out to the store to buy a few extra things for the current baking fiasco going on.
âHey! What are my favorite bakers doing?â he chuckled as he struggled to reach the kitchen counter to drop off the paper bag in his arms.
âMommy let us help make cookies,â replied your eldest daughter as she removed herself from her dadâs leg.
âAnd we gots to paint cookies!â exclaimed your youngest.
âWow, will I get to see these painted cookies?â Dean asked as he kneeled down to the girl's level.
âThey in the oven right now,â they answered in unison.
âGood,â he replied with a wide grin. âNow, why donât you two go help Uncle Sammy, Auntie Eileen, and big brother Jack decorate the library? We need you two to make sure the tree is perfect.â
âYAY!â they screamed as they ran out the kitchen, still wearing their flour-coated aprons you had made a few weeks ago.
You chuckled at Dean as you finished the final touches on the apple pie you were making. You felt Dean wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder.
âHmm, bet thatâs gonna taste delicious once youâre done.â
âMhm, but itâs not for you.â
âWho else here loves pie like me?â he questioned teasingly.
âThe girls thought that maybe Santa enjoys pie just as much as Daddy does,â you giggled in response as he tickled your tummy. âNow stop before I ruin this beauty.â
âSo, if this is meant for SantaâŠ.â
âI set up the Santa costume in the Dean Cave and locked the door to make sure the girls donât see it. I really hope Santa enjoys the pie,â you teased as you turned in Deanâs arms, relishing the warmth he was emanating.Â
âOh, I bet he will love that pie. I know I love your pies,â Dean smiled down at you as he pecked the tip of your nose.
âNow, be a good boy and put this pie in the oven since the cookies should be done,â you beamed as you turned to grab the pie and hand it to him. âAnd dinner will be ready in another hour so I suggest you go help the four out there with the decorations before Cass gets here.â
Dean chuckled deeply as he took the pie from you, moving to the ovens to take the cookies out to put the pie inside. He placed the tray of cookies on the kitchen counter right next to the already cooling first batch. He walked towards you and pulled you into his arms, placing a sweet and gentle kiss on your lips. Once he broke free from you, he smiled, caressing your flour-covered cheek.
âLove you and Merry Christmas, babe.â
âLove you too, and Merry Christmas.â
After dinner, Jack and the girls went to his room to watch Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer while Cass joined them to see what the excitement was for a cartoon movie. Sam had taken Eileen to rest in their room, her second trimester being a little rough on her. It was just you and Dean in the Dean Cave, you laid across the couch, wrapped in a blanket with your head in his lap at you watched Die Hard, a Christmas tradition you both started after your move into the bunker. Even before Dean asked you to become his girlfriend, you both enjoyed watching the movie on Christmas, both sharing in agreement that it actually was a Christmas movie. Even when you were two months away from popping out your second baby after your marriage, you both couldnât miss out on the set tradition.Â
And once the movie rolled its credits and Cass entered the room, the newest tradition was about to set in motion.Â
âThe girls fell asleep in Jackâs room before the movie could end,â Cass told them as he sat across the room in the recliner.
âJack needs help getting them to their room?â you asked as you were about to get up.
âNo, he said itâs alright if they stay in his room. Plus, they are far enough to not hear Dean.â
âAnd, thatâs my cue to get dressed!â
You giggled as you sat up, Dean getting up and heading to the closet. Inside was the Santa suit you had bought a few years ago as a joke. But after your first daughterâs curiosity involving Santa, the suit became a permanent member in the bunker.
âAt least I wonât be the only one having to wear this thing soon,â Dean grunted as he got into the suit, not removing his clothes since the suit was huge.
âI mean, we may have to get Sam a whole new suit. He is too tall to fit into yours,â you replied as you wrap yourself in the blanket.
âWell, you and Eileen can handle that when the time comes,â he replied with a kiss on your forehead, putting on the beard and hat. âHowâd I look?â
âJust like Jolly Saint Nick,â you responded with a giggle.
âWell, not really,â Cass interrupted. âBy the images, I have seen everywhere, he has a round belly and red cheeksâŠâ
âAlright we get it, Cass,â Dean replied in annoyance as he grabbed the velvet bag of gifts, throwing it over his shoulder. âBetter had put that pie out because I plan on eating that whole thing.â
âGirls made me cut a piece out onto a plate, but itâs all yours babe.â
Dean walked out of the room with a huff, trying his best to walk quietly in the black boots. You got up from the couch and wrapped yourself tightly in the blanket.
âLet him know I went off to bed, baking and cooking took out all my energy.â
Cass nodded and gave you his typical kind smile.
âHave a good night Cass and Merry Christmas.â
âAnd a Merry Christmas to you, too.â
It was Christmas morning and you were waiting for the girls and Jack to finally wake up. Dean had made due with his promise about eating the entire pie, and you were thankful you had gotten a picture of it before since you didnât want your hard work on the pie crust to disappear into his belly. Dean came into the library with two mugs of coffee in hand, handing one to you as he sat next to you. Sam and Eileen joined the both of you, sitting right across. Dean and Sam were in deep talk about a possible case and you were talking to Eileen about her pregnancy when Jack and the girls ran into the library, screaming for joy.
âPRESENTS!â
You laughed as they ran straight for the tree, Jack right behind them like the child he was. But your eldest looked over at the small table you had set up last night with the cookies, milk, and pie for Santa. She walked over and noticed the half-empty glass of milk, the few missing cookies and the empty pie pan and plate. She turned to look at you with wide eyes, the shock clear on her face.
âMOMMY! Santa ate all the pie!â
âWell, it looks like Santa loves pie just as much as Daddy does,â you replied with a wink and grin.
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Idle Hands Are an Angelâs Plaything by mattzerella_sticks
Three cases - man kills wife. woman steals from where she works. employee kills their boss. They shouldn't have anything in common. Except all three suspects claim they have no memory of committing the crimes they're charged with. Sounds exactly like a case for the Winchesters.
Three days investigating, however, and they're drawing blanks. Nothing adds up in any way that makes these crimes align into a neat box. Dean's ready to call it quits, but humors Sam and Cas by agreeing to interview a few more people. However he soon starts to believe this town has something pertaining to their expertise when he suddenly finds himself its next victim.
Will they manage to defeat the monster without Dean doing something he'll regret? Or will the only way to free himself is to let go of the chains he forced himself into long ago?
For the @supernaturaltropecelebration and their amazing Halloween Challenge!
Kevin grunts in his sleep, trying to wake up from the strangest nightmare. Blinking into consciousness he finds himself in a different position than when he fell asleep. Instead of his eyes adjusting to see his beige ceiling, he stares into the bloodshot stare of his wife Darla. His hands at her throat, grip slack.
âDarla?â he whispers, hands moving to her shoulders. Shaking, he asks again, âDarla?â More panicked, twitching fingers returned to check for his wifeâs pulse. A sob crawls from his chest as he realizes nothing beats against his touch.
âNo, Darla,â he whispers, rolling off her and collapsing back onto his side of the bed. âHow did this happenâŠâ
His hands stay frozen at his sides until he works through his shock and calls the police.
The Impala pulls into the diner parking lot, fitting in between a rusted truck and a Prius. Dean sneers at the latter car as he gets out, âFuckinâ douche mobilesâŠâ
âDean,â Sam sighs from the other side, âfocus.â
âWhy? We have jack shit anyway.â
âThereâs got to be something tying these crimes together!â
âYeah, humanity ,â he scoffs, leaning against his Babyâs hood, âListen, Iâm not sure if there's anything happening here that falls under ourjurisdiction, okay?â
Sam rolls his eyes, dialing up the softness in his features. Resembling more labradoodle than man, he asks, âCan we go over it all one last time?â
Dean tries to resist, but he succumbs to his brotherâs masterful manipulation. âFine. But letâs at least grab a booth before it gets too crowded, okay?â
Nodding, Sam moves away from the car and over to the diner. Dean turns to Castiel, the angel perched on the hood as well. A silent observer to their bickering. âYou think thereâs any foundation under the house Samâs building?â
Head skewed to the side, Castiel squints at him. âWhile these events are muddled and pedestrian⊠you two have had less to go off of.â
âYeah,â Dean sighs, tapping Babyâs roof twice, âwe have.â He pushes himself off, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. âCome on, otherwise Samâll order us all salads.â
âIâd like some fries.â
âWell you can order your damned fries when we get inside.â
They walk together, barely an inch of space between them. Castielâs arm brushes against his with each step, each time making the blush burning his neck to grow hotter. He could move away, but Dean chooses to stay on his path. Reasoning that Castiel should be the one to do so, finally learn about the personal space bubble he frequently bursts. Eleven years, countless battles, and all of pop culture downloaded into his mind in the span of a second and Dean still has to tell him how if he can feel his breath when he talks Castiel isnât far enough away.
Sam arches an unimpressed brow when they enter, handing them their menus. âTook you long enough?â
âBite me, Sammy.â
âIâd rather the food. Less calories.â
Dean exaggerates a frown, Sam copying him. Castiel elbows him in the side, glancing between the two. With a sigh he drops the argument, burying his head into the menu. Keeping silent when his brother and angel carry on the conversation. Only surfacing when the waitress swings by asking for their order.
As expected Sam orders a salad, while Dean opts for a BLT and Castiel asks for his fries. Once the waitress is out of earshot, Sam looks to him. âSo,â he starts, âcan we go over the case now ?â
Tamping down his comments, Dean nods wordlessly. He fiddles with one of the napkins, bending and crumpling the edges before smoothing them. The urge to tear them up spikes, but Dean ignores it. Not in the mood for one of Samâs lectures about wasting napkins.
âNow the reason we came here over going home was because of the first incident, where a woman was arrested for murdering her co-worker. Although from how she told it to the press, it wasnât her.â
âExcept,â Dean cuts in, âwhile Cas and I interviewed her, you checked the footage and didnât see her eyes flash.â What Sam saw, and related to them, was how Kristie twisted the oxygen valve in the storage shed enough that its contents would hiss open. So when her boss, Mark, went for a quick smoke break, the tossed match would ignite the canister and obliterate the shed, everything and every one in it.
âAnd from our conversation,â Castiel adds, âshe didnât seem too regretful of her co-workerâs death.â
Kristie confided that bad blood existed between her and Mark. That he offered to help her with her diving suit near constantly, made suggestive comments and harassed her often for a date. âI mean why should I be blamed?â Kristie asked, âHe was the idiot who kept smoking near oxygen tanks even when Larry told him again and again to find somewhere else to take his breaks! All I was doing was counting our inventory⊠sometimes Iâm just on autopilot, yâknow, itâs so boring⊠anyone could have made that mistake!â
âBut then there were the others,â Sam continues, swiping around on his tablet. He shows the articles he pulled. âBanker who transferred over a hundred thousand into her own account and the man who strangled his wife in their bed.â
âDoesnât mean thereâs a shifter though.â
âThree instances where people claim they have no memory of committing a crime?â Sam scoffs, âMight not be a shifter but itâs something .â
âWhat else could it be, Sam?â Dean rolls his eyes, âCursed object? All three of the perps didnât mention buying or finding anything strange, and I doubt one of those could travel so far in a few days. Especially since none of them travelled in the same circles. Witches? Thereâs no pattern - usually itâs either murder or theft, they donât do both!â
âSo maybe we need to work harder,â Sam growls, slapping Deanâs hands, âand quit it! I thought I told you how much I hate when you do that.â
Dean frowns, following Samâs gaze to see the sprinkling of napkin shreds all around him. He drops the rest of it, whipping wide eyes up at his brother. âSorry,â he says, âmust have lost focus or somethingâŠâ
Sam sucks in a sharp breath, judging him silently through his pointed expression. Feeling guilty, Dean ducks his hands under the table.
âAs I was saying,â Sam says, âThereâs probably something weâre missing⊠or weâre not considering. Usually weâve at least spoken to a witness or a family friend at this point, but with how every day there seems to be a new crime we hadnât had the chance to.â
Dean snorts, âThey should really change their town motto. Most exciting hamlet on the bayâŠâ
âI agree with Sam,â Castiel says, âweâve learned nothing from simply combing through crime scenes or questioning the suspects.â
âAt least weâre all on the same page about that,â Dean hums, eyeing the waitress as she sways closer with their food. âCase talk over with, nowâs time to eat!â
The waitress arrives as Sam readies an objection. Unable to raise a protest, Sam swallows back his words to make room for his salad. She hands each boy their order, taking extra care when giving Castiel his. âNow would you like anything else?â she asks them, eyes trained on his angel.
Castiel smiles at her. âNo thank you, weâre good.â
âAre you sure?â
A tornado whips up in his stomach, upending the trailers of his emotions settled there. His jaw tenses, fingers flexing as he watches her flick her ponytail to the side. A voice whispers for him to trail fingers through Castielâs hair and repeat what his angel said, to glare at her until she walks away.
He doesnât do any of that; instead hissing a breath out his nose and digging into his sandwich.
She leaves soon enough, with a promise to return at a momentâs notice. Dean sulks into his burger, cheeks puffed up as he eats.
The others at the table discuss their plan while they eat, every few beats looking to Dean for his input. With his mouth almost always stuffed Dean didnât talk. Each time Sam found him with gnashing teeth and crumbled foodstuff his lips curled ever downwards. Castiel seemed confused at Deanâs sudden mood shift, unknowing to what caused him to withdraw.
Unfortunately the sandwich, as large as it was, couldnât last forever. And his voracious appetite meant he finishes far faster than everyone else. Sam still has half his leaves on his plate, speaking more than he ate, while Castiel picked at his fries.
Now without any sort of shield, his brother expects him to participate. Dean nods and answers when needed, but completely checks out of the conversation.
Itâs not like him to do so on a hunt. However itâs their third straight one after a salt nâ burn and a harrowing ghoul hunt. Where Dean was almost intimately familiar with what a spike tasted like, if Castiel hadnât burst in at the eleventh hour. White shirt sticky with sweat and stained with dirt, hair damp against his forehead. Apparently the ghoul tricked his angel, smothering him under six feet of dirt at a play to take him off the field.
âI dug myself free and came straight here,â Castiel explained as he untied Dean, âI couldnât waste a second, especially on something as mundane as appearances.â
At least, thatâs what Dean thought he said. His mind was too focused on the image of Castiel kneeling in front of him, chest heaving and glistening, fingers dancing around the rope. He only started paying attention when Sam rushed in, gun aimed at thin air.
âNice of you to show up,â Dean barked, shoving the rope off of him and stepping away from Castiel with a blush, âWhat were you doing? Thinking about what you could turn my room into when you became an only child?â
Neither Sam nor Castiel laughed. Which made for a very awkward ride back to the motel. The atmosphere so stifling between them Dean escaped to the bathroom. Washing away the ghoul stink and rubbing one to the earlier scene. Imagining if Sam hadnât burst in.
As good as it felt he regrets it only because it gave the others space to find another hunt and overrule his whining.
âDean?â
He surfaces from his memories and into the present, blinking at Castiel. âYeah?â
âIs everything okay?â
Dean studies the furrowed brow on his angelâs face. Mirroring the expression, he asks, âWhy shouldnât it be?â
Castielâs frown deepens, and his head skews to the side again. âBecause your hand has been on my knee for quite some time.â
Blanching, Dean whips his gaze to where Castiel claimed his hand rested. Like he said, it lays on Castielâs knee in a picture of innocent affection. He flicks his eyes up to Castiel, and then to Sam. His brother watches with amused interest.
âOf course my handâs there,â Dean says, thinking quick, âI - uh⊠Iâve been trying to get you to scoot over so I can go to the bathroom.â
Face smoothing immediately, Castiel sighs. âWhy didnât you say so?â
âBecause,â he jerks a thumb at Sam, âdidnât want to interrupt this one while he was on a roll.â With Samâs bitchface in the background Castiel moves so Dean can stand. He winks with fake mirth, âWonât be long.â Then Dean speeds away to the bathroom, hands buried in his pockets and face stoic.
The dinerâs bathrooms are single occupants, and Dean finds both the menâs and gender neutral bathroom locked. Sighing, he sags against a nearby wall and plays with his phone. Trying not to focus on the feel of Castielâs knee in his hand.
Why it was there Dean couldnât answer, nor did he need an answer. Otherwise Dean will have to confront a host of problems he isnât in the mood to face. Not wanting to think about it any longer, he chalks it up to exhaustion. Dean then distracts himself by pulling up a game, hoping with each row of Tetris he clears he can believe his excuse.
While deciding where to shove a T-piece, Dean overhears a nearby conversation.
âCan you believe how sad Tony sounds in this caption?â
âI know, but can you blame him? Broken up like thatâŠâ
Dean pauses his game, interest piqued. Shuffling to the side, he spies their waitress conversing with another girl at the last booth. Taking a break from working, she chats with her friend with no fear of being found by her boss.
âWho wouldâve guessed Felicia was faking it all this timeâŠâ her friend says, taking her phone back. âLike did you hear from Jessica?â
âNo, why? What does she know?â
âFrom what she told me - and this is from what Bea told her - that they were having this sleepover. Bea woke up to Felicia spooning her, and her hands were⊠yâknow .â
â No! â
âWhich, youâd think Bea wouldâve woken up screaming!â
âI know I wouldâve,â their waitress says, âyâknow Creepy Josh tried something like that with me during a party the other night? Lucky I wasnât too wasted to stab my key into his hand.â
âSo thatâs why he wore that bandage throughout the show,â her friend says, âI thought it was a character choice.â
âNo, that dildo has no character.â
âAnyway, Bea was super into Feliciaâs touch. Has had the hots for her for awhile, apparently. Her own best friend .â
âAnd Felicia felt the same?â
âApparentlyâŠâ her friend glances behind, Dean watching as she extends her neck as far as it can go. Whipping around, she smirks, âSpeaking of hands and feeling up ⊠who are those two snacks in your section.â
Dean tracks where she looks, shuddering as logic points to only one table - his . âI know,â their waitress gushes, âyou donât see faces like those in this crummy town.â
Her friend nods. âWhen I walked in I nearly dropped to the floor at the sight of the guy with the long hair.â
âSure heâs nice,â their waitress says, âbut did you not see the daddy in the trench coat?â
âReally? A trench coat?â
âWhat! He makes it work,â she defends Castielâs fashion, âBesides, he has this air about him like⊠he could take real good care of meâŠâ
Rolling her eyes, her friend grabs for her soda. âI doubt heâs gonna be the sugar daddy of your dreams, Monica.â
Monica sighs. âA girl can dream canât sheâŠâ
Dean glares at her from his hiding spot. A girl cannot dream, he thinks, especially if thatâs what her dreams are about. His grip tightens on his phone, the plastic digging into his skin. The bathroom door opens and startles him from his spiraling.
Faced with an empty bathroom, Dean remembers what he came to do. He shakes off the annoyance and hurries into it, going through the motions as he calms his racing heart. Stands in front of the mirror as he repeats to himself, âItâs stupid⊠donât let it bother you.â
The voice from earlier returns, whispering again. âItâs not stupid⊠allow yourself to feelâŠâ
His hands squeeze the porcelain sink as Dean wonders why his inner voice decided to take on a grating southern twang.
âDean?â Castiel knocks on the door, âDean? Are you in here?â
Broken from the spell, he turns to the door. He opens it, his angel on the other side. âYeah?â
âYou were gone for a long time,â Castiel says, âSamâs paying⊠weâre heading out.â Castielâs hand twitches at his side, reaching out to him. âAre you okay -?â
âPeachy, Cas,â he says, stepping around the concerned touch, âPolice station coffee just hitting sâall⊠letâs hurry and clear this mess up so weâre not stuck here another night.â
Castiel nods, guiding Dean from the bathrooms and towards the exit where Sam waits. On their way there they pass Monica, cleaning their table. She leers at Castiel, obviously raking her gaze over him.
Impulsively Dean presses his hand against Castielâs lower back and pushes him forward. âPick up the pace,â he says loudly, âcanât keep Sam waiting, angel.â Ignoring Castielâs look of confusion, Dean focuses instead on the bewildered expression Monica creates. Holds his head up a little higher.
âIsnât that⊠betterâŠâ
âIsnât what better, Cas?â
âI⊠I didnât say anything, Dean,â his mouth thins worryingly, âare you sure youâre okay?â
Unconvincingly Dean mutters, âLike I said, Cas⊠damned peachy .â
Dean loses his footing almost immediately after climbing onto the fishing boat. He stumbles forward, nearly falling on his face. If it werenât for Castielâs firm hold on his arm he would have known what poopdeck tastes like.
âRough waters today,â Jim, the captain, tells them, âif you ainât got your sea legs than you wonât stand much of a chance, sonâŠâ
âIâll manageâŠâ Dean huffs, flattening his suit jacket with nervous hands. He glances at Castiel, pouting at how unruffled he seems by the waves. âHow are you not affected?â
Castiel smirks, âAngel grace is a good substitute for â sea legs â.â
âWhatever,â he says, âyou can let go now.â
The fingers around his bicep tighten, a rush of pleasure shooting up his spine. âI think it would be best if I help steady you.â
Blushing, Dean snaps his mouth shut with a click. He looks to the waiting captain, pinched dimples on full display. âSo, about your crew member, Kevin Johannsen?â
âJohannsen was a real good fisherman,â Jim starts, leading them towards a pile of nets. Jim picks one up and begins folding as he talks. âHad this uncanny ability to guess wherever the most fish were in an open sea. One day he pointed to a patch and said âcast thereâ and we nearly capsized from the amount of fish we hauled in! Itâs a real shame to hear what happenedâŠâ
âYes, well, thatâs why weâre here,â Dean says, âWe just wanted to see if Kevin had been acting strange in the last couple of days.â
âStrange?â Jim asks, âWhat do you mean strange?â
âExhibiting unusual behavior,â Castiel clarifies, stepping closer. âDoing or saying anything that might have seemed out of the ordinary⊠maybe he found something while fishing that he kept for himself?â
âNo,â Jim answers, âno, canât say that he has. Any garbage we dredge up gets tossed back into the sea where we found it⊠and as for Kevin himself he was as normal as he always was. Cursing out the Patriots, drinking the same amount of beers he always did, telling the same jokes âŠâ
Dean arches a brow, the word like a dangling string he felt drawn to pull. âJokes? Kevin was a regular comedian?â
âWell, he werenât a Jerry Seinfeld or a Sam Kinison, but he knew how to make us all chuckle every now and then,â Jim says, turning to his crew, âisnât that right boys?â
Thereâs muddled agreement. One man, made burlier by his fleece-lined denim jacket, gives them more information. âKevin liked repeating what he saw on TV, stole a joke or two from Family Guy. Liked doing that Borat thingâŠâ
âBorat thing?â Castiel asks.
Dean rolls his eyes, âItâs this actor⊠âMy wifeâ?â
âYeah,â the man says, âhe liked that one a lot.â
âAlthough,â another crewman speaks up, âhe sounded more and more like the Honeymooners in the past few months.â
Dean latches onto that, hackles raised. He explores it further, hoping the dark rock sinking in his gut was right. âKevin having problems at home?â
âNot anymore than the average guy,â Jim shrugs, âComplained about Darla more than ever, thoughâŠâ
âHow so?â
The burly man explains how Kevin found his marriage growing stale, and had taken to flirting with one of the girls who sold their fish. âKept saying how he wished he didnât marry Darla right out of high school, had more time to sow his seeds,â he tells them, âThat if he could he would get rid of Darla and immediately go after Michelle. Pretended to call up hitmen or asked questions about how fast a person could sink to the bottom of the oceanâŠâ
âAnd,â Dean rubs at his forehead, pressing against the growing headache, âyou were all surprised to hear that this guy murdered his wife?â
Jim scowls. âHe wasnât like any of those disturbed people you see on the news. Kevin was normal, like one of us. It was just jokes between boys.â
âJokes that led to a womanâs death,â Castiel growls, barely containing the venomous glow dripping from his glare.
âHey!â Jim objects, âWe didnât tell Kevin to do what he did -â
âNo, but you allowed him an open forum to discuss it,â Castiel says, âtreated his very obvious threats as silly make believe. In what way could joking about murder be acceptable in any work space? You should have fired him and, at the very least, alerted Darla to what her husband was saying.â
âWhy would we have done that?â Jim asks, âWe all thought it would blow over. He wasnât the first man to wish he wasnât married, weâve all been in that position once or twice.â
âYet Kevin was the only one who took extreme measures,â he challenges, âIf I were you I would think long and hard about the learned behaviors of how women are treated, especially how easily violence towards them is overlooked.â
Each member of the crew wore a mixture of shame and anger, all directed at Castiel.
Sensing the turn of the interview, Dean lays a hand against Castielâs chest and pushes him backwards. âI think this is where weâll take our leave,â he chuckles, âthanks for your time.â
Ignoring his angelâs protests Dean hurries them off the boat, waiting until theyâre far enough away on the docks to talk.
âI canât believe those men,â Castiel huffs, âtreating those threats as something harmless like a joke -â
âHate to break it to you Cas,â Dean says, âbut thatâs all men.â
âThat doesnât mean we have to accept it. Why did you make us run away like that?â
âBecause as much as I hate what they said,â he sighs, âI know when to pick my battles.â
âNo you donât.â
âFine, I know how to pick your battles.â
âThey wouldnât have been able to hurt me,â Castiel tells him, âBut I could have taught them a lesson or twoâŠâ
The hand still glued to his arm clenches tighter, Dean wincing in pain. Underneath that, though, a current of heat stings his lower body. His dick stiffens and rises somewhat in his pants, adding to the already intense blush coloring his cheeks.
Noticing Deanâs pained expression Castiel cools his anger and releases him. âSorry,â he says, âI⊠I forgot my hand was there.â
âSâokay, Cas,â Dean chuckles, âNext time take your frustrations out by writing your local representativeâŠâ
âDo we have one? I thought since we donât voteâŠâ
â...Never mind, Cas. Letâs just go call Sammy and tell him it was a bust.â
They shuffle over to the Impala, at a distance uncommon to their friendship. Dean wants to reach over and calm his angel, express further how unsettled he was by the othersâ callous remarks. Remind Castiel that even in all the whirling madness there are a few voices of sanity trying to help others listen to reason. Only some people prefer having their ears stuffed up, comfortable with the silence. And most donât want to rock the boat and mess up what already works.
Like Dean. Because as much as he wants to hold his angel all he uses his hand for is to open Babyâs door, start the engine, and call his brother.
He picks up on the third ring. âI was just about to call you.â
âYou find anything?â
âNo,â Sam sighs, âI think you might be right about this oneâŠâ
Dean tempers his grin, only allowing a tiny fraction of it show. âWhat makes you think that?â he asks.
Sam explains what he managed to uncover while snooping around the bank. How Linda was on the fast track to unemployment, her boss showing him the letter of termination they planned. Her co-worker Sandy told Sam how Linda complained about having issues with money. âApparently she was buried deep in debt after some serious online gambling,â he says, âSo we have a motive.â
He reigns in the âI told you soâ, instead saying, âSame here. Olâ Kev talked pretty heavily about not wanting his wife around anymoreâŠâ
A surge of warmth rocks over him from the thought of wrapping up the case quickly. While itâs an odd feeling to have when discussing murder, making him sound so flippant, he doesnât care. Picturing his bed in the Bunker gives him tingles, especially when his imagination adds the perfect cherry by placing Castiel atop of his covers.
In the fantasy Dean drops his bags and glides in, kneeling at his bedside. Gently caresses Castielâs face, the feel of his stubbles so real under his fingertips. As if the welcome relief of a case closed hit him now, while they tie up their loose ends. His angel would then flutter his lashes and whisper.
â...Dean?â
He bites his lip, âIn a second, Cas - Iâm on the phone.â Adjusting himself in his seat, Dean focuses on the conversation with his brother. âSorry, you were saying?â
âThat Iâll meet you at the motel and we can hit the road as soon as you want -â
â Dean !â
â What ?â
He whips around to face Castiel, a hush heavying his tongue. Instead of firing the command Dean chokes on it while taking in the scene.
Castiel stares with wide eyes, Deanâs hand softly cupping his chin. Thumb brushing the cleft, visible beneath the stubble, and his fingers press against his firm jaw. His angelâs plush lips part slightly, as if too stunned to attempt another sound. Dean mimics him, as he cannot understand how his hand got there nor why he hasnât pulled away.
Samâs on the other end, asking for Dean again. Wondering whatâs happening. A yell, louder than all the rest, cuts through the static playing in Deanâs mind. He jumps, hand flying from Castielâs face like it burned.
âSeriously, Dean,â Sam huffs, âwhat the hell is going on over there?â
He wonders the same thing. Suddenly Dean remembers how his hand found itself onto Castielâs knee in the diner, and the way he pressed it possessively against Castielâs back. Then the suspectsâ testimonies filter their way in as well, all boiling to the same point.
Dean rubs his hand across his forehead, dimples flashing at him from the rearview mirror. âLooks like the roadâs gonna have to wait another day, Sam.â
âDean? What do you mean?â
âTurns out this case is exactly in our wheelhouse.â He ends the call, promising to explain more when they meet at the motel. Signing off, Dean drops his phone onto his lap and tightens his grip on the wheel. Dean speaks to the windshield, not trusting himself to look at his angel. âYou good?â
âI am fine,â Castiel starts, concern bleeding through his gruff voice, âBut are youâŠ?â
âI didnât mean to do that,â Dean rushes out, neck hot.
âFunny. You sound exactly like everyone else weâve come across.â He doesnât need to see to know Castiel arches his brow while he talks, the sass translating perfectly.
Dean rolls his eyes. âIâm not lying. I⊠it was like my hand had a mind of its own.â
âI believe you.â
âBecause I wouldnât do that,â his mouth wonât shut up, âunless you wanted me to, itâs kinda creepy and -â
âDean,â Castiel cuts him off, hand laid across his thigh, âitâs okay.â
Throat dry, he roughly swallows against the heart that jumped up there. Faced with either addressing the problem or ignoring it, Dean relies on where he has the most experience. He shifts into drive and speeds away from the docks. Silent the entire ride to the motel.
Sam shifts his gaze between the two, expression wrinkled with suspicion. He glowers at them, hunched over on the chair. âExplain to me again why you changed your mind on this?â
Dean glances at Castiel briefly, his angel sitting next to him on the bed. âI just,â he starts, wringing his hands, âI think that we might have missed something important.â
âWhich isâŠ?â
He huffs, physically withdrawing from the conversation so he can think.
Even with how fast Dean drove, Sam beat them to the motel. Waiting for them with twisted brows. Hoping they could shed some light on the stilted and urgent ending to the earlier conversation. Unfortunately Dean could only give half-formed answers, bathed in vagueness. He relied on trust to get Sam to accept the bull he force-fed him.
Sam knocked away every spoon.
âDean?â
âDean seems to be suffering under the effects of possession.â
He glares at his angel, lips trembling. Castiel returns a softer gaze, smiling with his eyes. âAll of those arrested admitted to not remembering what they did, yet each had motives for doing what was done,â Castiel says, âEither they were filmed committing these actions or had their fingerprints found at the scene of the crime⊠we believe it must be a ghost forcing people to act on impulses or desires they usually ignore. And Dean is the ghostâs next victim.â
âReally?â Sam says, turning to Dean, âIs that true?â
Deanâs head bobs side to side before sighing. âYeah, discussed it in the car,â he lies.
âSo youâre possessed?â
âLooks like it.â
âWhatâd the ghost make you do?â
âWhat?â
Sam crosses his arms, straightening to a more imposing level. âYouâd have to have done something you wouldnât have done. Acted on an impulse⊠what was it?â
Once more he skirts the truth with his brother. Grinning wide enough his teeth nearly jump out of his mouth, Dean says, âSaw something really sexy down by the docks and started rubbing my junk like no tomorrow⊠almost got caught for public indecency.â
Itâs a gamble that works in his favor. Samâs nose scrunches in disgust and he cries, âGross, Dean. God!â
âHey you wanted to know!â
âUgh,â Sam stands, spinning on his heel, âWhatever. Go wash your hands, pervert. Then youâre gonna help me and Cas with research.â
Dean nods, pushing off the bed. He looks to Castiel and mouths a quick thanks. His angel winks in return, sending Dean off to the bathroom to wash his hands and will away the blush staining his cheeks.
When he comes back Sam wonât look him in the eye and Castiel moved further up the bed, scrolling through his phone. Dean digs around for his laptop and sits by his angelâs feet. Close enough to not raise Samâs suspicions but far from any temptation his hands might succumb to.
A healthy dose of fear bubbles inside at the image of his hand creeping, without his knowledge, over to Castiel to play with his feet. He shudders and shifts so his legs dangle off the side, face turned even further away. It doesnât stop him from being very aware of his hands. Jumping with each twitch and worrying whether it was him or the ghost that wanted him to click a link or scratch an itch.
He wasnât much help in terms of research.
In the third hour of Dean staring more at his hands than his laptop, Sam cries from nearby, âI think I got something!â
Dean breathes a sigh of relief. âWhat is it?â
Sam beckons them closer, âSo get thisâŠâ He waits until Dean and Castiel are hovering behind before continuing. âApparently the town was the home base for this motivational speaker in the 80âs. Really weird guy by the name of Benjamin Moreley.â
âThey get paid through the nose to shout a few words and come up with catchphrases,â Dean tells him, âAll in an effort to get people to â change â. Itâs a real racket, especially these days.â
âAnd back then, too,â Sam says, âover the years Moreleyâs messages became some kind of movement, real cult-like. Anyway⊠listen to this clip from one of his speeches and see if it strikes a nerve.â
Sam unmutes the video, starting it from a minute in. He hits play, allowing Moreley to live again. Benjamin walks across a makeshift stage, soaking up the applause. Dean uses those few seconds to scan and judge the conman. Takes in the ruddy face, sweating profusely under the heavy lights. A hankey with a rich, purple color held tight in his fist, matching his shirt. His suit was white and stained in certain areas. The crowd watching him didnât find Moreley as pathetic as Dean does, fawning over him loudly.
âBecause it is when we take hold of what we want,â Moreley says, southern twang grating but unfortunately familiar, âfight against all the brainwashing society has forced upon us, to fit into their perfect little boxes, that we can truly be happy. The Id is our most basic part of ourselves - fundamental to our needs and desires. Why should we ignore it when doing so makes us miserable. We should be waking up every day with a goal of making each day better for yourself than the last. Looking at every opportunity, asking ourselves âdoes this make me happyâ? And if it does, great⊠go for it. If the answerâs ânoâ... then donât do it! Somebody else will!â
âWow,â Dean snorts, âguy sounds like a grade-A doucheâŠâ
The laptop snaps shut without warning, Deanâs hand flat against it.
âDean, what the -?â
âI didnât do that,â Dean says, âI didnât mean toâŠâ
Castiel huffs, âI guess this answers our question.â
Dean draws his hand to his chest, rubbing it. He frowns, âHowâd the bastard die?â
âIn all his speeches about giving into your impulses,â Sam says, âhe forgot to mention the consequences. He was sued by a few followers for the expected - lost jobs and spouses leaving. Moreleyâs defense was that they were happy in the moment, and thatâs all that mattered. Halfway through the trial, though, his wife burst in with a gun and shot him while he was testifying.â
He whistles, âDamnâŠâ
âApparently Moreley was giving into his own temptations,â Sam shrugs, âsleeping with a few of his followers. When his wife found out she decided to lean into his teachings. Took her revenge then swiftly shot herself, too. It was all detailed in this comprehensive article they wrote following the case, even had copies of the wifeâs suicide note.â
âIf Benjamin Moreleyâs ghost is haunting people,â Castiel asks, âwhere is his body buried?â
âClose by.â Sam re-opens his laptop, scrolling towards the end of the article. âIn this huge mausoleum at the center of the Joseph M. Whorly Cemetery. Itâs an hour outside of town.â
âThen what are we waiting for?â Dean asks, âLetâs get a move on!â
âDeanâŠâ
He bites his lip at his brotherâs tone, not caring for it one bit. âSam,â Dean sighs, âcome on -â
âYou shouldnât be going,â Sam rushes, âif youâre possessed then youâre a liability.â
âIâm not gonna let a damned ghost stop me from doing my job!â
âWe all saw what happened, Dean!â Sam drags a hand across his face, wiping away the aggravation. âListen, what if it were me who was possessed? Would you want me coming along on this hunt, doing whatever the ghost is doing to you?â
His mind runs away with the prompt, painting a scene that makes Deanâs blood boil. Samâs hands on Castielâs knee, caressing Castielâs face. Fingers that werenât his carding through his angelâs hair or tiptoeing down his chest. Finally catching up to his thoughts Dean sneaks a peek at his hand to find it drifting towards Castiel.
Dean shoves it into his pocket, face hot with embarrassment. âIâd want you far away,â he mutters, âso, so far away.â
Sam arches a brow, worried by this display. Dean prepares for his brother to ask another question, saved only by Castiel clearing his throat.
âAs much as I agree not having Dean on this hunt,â he starts, âwhat if the ghost hurts Dean in our absence. Who knows how much his power has grown since the first attack, he could seriously hurt himself.â
âYeah,â Dean nods, âwhat do we do about that?â Dean isnât worried the ghost will hurt him, confident in his own control against the wannabe Manson. But he doesnât want to sit on the bench for the rest of the case.
Sam thinks for a moment, grin unfurling when he finds an idea. Deanâs skin crawls at the gleam lighting up his brotherâs eyes.
âStupid motivational speaker ghost,â Dean mumbles, knocking his head against the motel divider for the umpteenth time, âwhyâd you have to latch onto me? Wasnât there some other unlucky sucker you couldâve found?â His arms sag overhead, wrists pulling against the silver cuffs as far as they can give.
Samâs solution was simple and made the most sense. Dean still complained the entire time.
âListen if this all works as planned, we'll be freeing you in no time,â Sam said. After testing the cuffs above Deanâs head, making sure they wouldnât break the divider, he hid the key. Ignorant to Deanâs protests all the while.
âYou better hope so,â Dean huffed, âIf this isnât the right ghost then I think the next impulse Iâll have is shaving your head while you sleep!â
Sam hitched the bag over his shoulder, looking to Castiel. âReady to go?â
Castiel, who stood at the wayside watching Deanâs imprisonment, finally tore his gaze away from Dean. âYes.â They left without glancing behind, especially when Dean whined about how his nose itched.
A quarter of an hour later, Dean only had himself for company and his nose continued to irritate him. He shifts, ass numb from the awkward angle he was stuck in. âCouldnât they have left me with a pillow to sit on or somethingâŠ?â
Suddenly the sound of the doorknob turning cuts across the room. Dean whirls around to face it, confused as to who it could be. Sam and Castiel should still be driving to the cemetery. If it was housekeeping, which Dean hoped werenât the case, then Dean better have a good excuse to use.
Luckily Castiel is on the other side of it.
Dean relaxes slightly. âCas,â he says, âWhatâre you doing here?â
âWell, Sam and I were a couple of blocks away from the motel when I realized this wouldnât be the most preventative measure,â Castiel explains, shutting the door behind him, âThe ghost could use its strength to break the chain, or worse, your bones in such a way to slip your hands free and hurt you. So I suggested one of us staying here, with you, while the other goes to the cemetery. Since itâs a mausoleum we wonât need to dig⊠Sam agreed.â
âAnd he let you take babysitting point?â
Castiel shrugged, smiling. âIf the ghost does have abnormal strength, then at least I will be able to match it.â He carries a nearby chair over to face Dean, sitting on it. âAs we all know, Iâm very powerful in my own right.â
The wink sets off a chain reaction. Reminds Dean of the earlier display on the docks, and the effect it caused within him. His dick stiffens again as he pictures Castiel pinning his wrists in one hand and using the other to squeeze his crotch. Deanâs hands spasm against their chain, twitching for freedom and Castiel.
Things became much more complicated than they were when Dean was alone.
Dean lapses into silence, trying to regain control over his hands. The longer Castiel stares at him, unblinking, the less his hands listen to him. Castielâs presence produces a hypnotic orbit, where every time Dean thinks heâs free his eyes get sucked in again.
Suddenly Castiel leans forward, elbows perched on his knees. âYâknow, I rather prefer you like this.â
He wets his lips, voice raspy. âLike what?â Dean asks.
âCuffed,â he says, foot tapping rhythmically, âcanât run away⊠canât distract⊠cannot hide, like you usually do whenever a situation becomes too⊠intimate .â His hands slowly slide down his thighs and rest on his knees, Dean tracking the movement. âIf I wanted to I could ask you a question - any question - and youâd have to answer it, wouldnât you?â
Dean neither confirms nor denies.
âYou are patient, though. Could probably wait out the awkwardness until Sam returnsâŠâ Castiel chuckles, âFunny, how of the three of us only youwere possessed. Like the ghost knew you had these... hidden desires. Do you have them, Dean? Would you like to touch me?â
He spasms, weak enough that a groan eaks past his lips.
Castiel grins, gaze darkening. âYour hand on my knee⊠on my back⊠my chest⊠as brief as they were, they all felt rather⊠nice .â
Startled, Deanâs jaw drops at the admission.
His angel carries on, straightening against the chair. âI couldâve asked you to keep them there, told you it was okay. Except you wouldnât have responded well at all. Youâd panic and then make a joke, act as if your affectionate gestures were anything but - especially in front of Sam. Keep up appearances⊠you canât do that now, can you? The ghost has removed all pretense - for your hands at least. Your mouth, however, can still deny. But do you want to? Is it worth denying any longer?â
Dean struggles to laugh away Castielâs suggestion. Except with the intensity of his angelâs stare and the heavy words he spoke, Dean finds little will to carry on the charade. Unburdening himself from his doubts and fears, he shrugs, âI guess it isnât. Itâs⊠tiring.â
âWould you like to touch me?â
â... Absolutely .â
He attempts to reach for him, only canât get far with the cuffs still on. Castiel sighs, clucking his tongue at Dean.
âYou canât do that right now, unfortunately,â he says, stretching his leg until his foot is pressed against Deanâs crotch, âBut there are other⊠pointsof contact .â Castiel steps down on Deanâs crotch, lightning flashing behind his eyes as Deanâs legs spasm. The rattling of the chains against the divider gets drowned out by heavy breathing.
Dean bucks against Castielâs foot. âMore!â
âIn due time,â Castiel tells him, dragging his foot away, âWeâve been through so much, though⊠so many years of pining behind closed doors⊠why should we blow it all in fifteen minutes?â He drops to the floor on his knees, kicking the chair away. Crawling until barely an inch of space exists between their faces.
Castielâs breath ghosts against his lips. Dean tips his head to capture them, only for Castielâs thumb to dig into his chin. âNo,â he whispers, ânot yet. Only when I say so, understand?â When Dean doesnât respond Castiel pinches a nipple. âUnderstand?â
âYes!â he yelps, blood rushing to his dick.
âGood.â
Pulling away from his face and chest, Castiel rests on his haunches as his hands trace the seams of his jeans. âThis must not be comfortable for you, can it?â he asks, smirking, âI can take it off if you desire?â
Dean nods, not trusting his voice. Except Castiel pinches him again, on his thigh. âPlease,â he pants, âPlease, Cas.â
âIt is no problemâŠâ He unties his boots, pulling them off to spend more time removing his socks. Peeling each one off slowly, scraping his blunt nail up the soles of his feet as the black fabric comes off. Once more his legs jump and dance uncontrollably. âTicklish,â Castiel notes, âIâll remember thatâŠâ Moving on Castiel drifts up to the belt, playing with the buckle. He unbuckles and re-buckles the accessory so many times Dean feels lightheaded from the bloodloss. Satisfied, finally, Castiel whips the belt off and snaps it. âLater,â he promises, setting it off to the side.
His fingers deftly unbutton his jeans, tugging them and his boxers away until Castiel exposes his ass and legs to the motel carpeting. Folding his jeans allows Dean the chance to gasp in as much air as he can before Castiel shoves him under again. He glances at his bare legs and exposed crotch, notices how his heavy dick rests in the middle of his bramble-like pubes. With only his shirt on Dean resembles Winnie the Pooh, and his knees scoot closer as if to shield himself.
Castiel guides them to where they were, frowning. âWhy are you trying to hide again, Dean?â
He bites his lip, blushing. âCause I look -â
âAmazing.â
âWhat?â
Castiel places his hands on Deanâs thighs and splays his bowlegs while dipping close to Deanâs face again. âYou look amazing,â he places a kiss to Deanâs chin, âgorgeous,â another to his cheek, âawe-inspiring, lovely,â two to his eyelids, âmiraculous,â pecks his nose, âand sexy .â Finally Castiel embraces Deanâs lips, tongue immediately poking past them for a taste.
Deanâs wrists burn from how the cuffs cut into them, keeping him from tugging Castielâs hair or squeezing his biceps. His angel enjoys Deanâs struggle, though, breaking the kiss to laugh.
âThis isnât your time to touch,â Castiel says, âWhen it is, I will let you know. Until then⊠allow me to explore .â
They must have different understandings of what the word âexploreâ means. Because to Dean it feels like torture . Unable to participate, passively watch Castiel comb over every piece of his body. Moan while Castiel nibbles his ear and tugs at his hair. Vision dizzying while Castiel twists his nipples and laves at his navel. His cock, stiff like a frozen popsicle, leaks precum without being touched at all. Castiel circles it: scratching his thighs, squeezing his balls, and breathing on its tip. All Dean can do is jerk forward, except he never makes contact. His angel tips backwards every time.
âNuh-uh,â he shakes his head, âgood little hunters are patient .â
âPatient?â
âYou can wait a little longer, canât you?â Castiel asks, brow arched devilishly, âEspecially since Iâm making this so good for you.â
âToo good,â Dean whines, âLet me⊠please, let meâŠâ
âLet you what, Dean?â he asks, âLike I said, you cannot touch -â
âN-no,â Dean interrupts, âLet me⊠let meâŠâ
âIâm waiting.â
â Come .â
Castiel considers the request, thumbs kneading the skin under his thighs. Hums a maddening melody that sends shivers racing up and down Deanâs spine. âYou have had a rough day, havenât you,â he says, âIt's not easy giving up control⊠I guess you may come. But -â his left hand slips into Deanâs asscrack and presses against his hole, âAllow me to help you along.â
âOf course, Cas,â Dean sighs, fluttering around Castielâs thumb, âWouldnât have it any other way. PleaseâŠâ
âI didnât think Dean Winchester would be the one to begâŠâ
âOnly for you, angel,â Dean babbles, âI want to be the only one for you⊠so bad.â
âHow bad?â Castiel asks, right hand squeezing his dick, âHow long ?â
âDonât know,â he answers, âOne day I blinked and-and all I wanted to do was have you near me. Have you on me. You told me once that you built me from the ground up? Well I want you to tear me the fuck down - up - whatever . Crash through my walls like a fucking wrecking ball until thereâs nothing but debris. And then build me again.â
âAre you always this demanding with your partners?â
Dean chuckles, âOnly the ones whoâve kept me dangling at the edge for far too long.â
âThen stop talking,â Castiel commands, âand let me push you over.â
He dies there, bare assed and on the cusp of an orgasm. At least, thatâs what it felt like. Because one second he was staring at a glowing Castiel and in a blink Dean floated over his own body. Saw how glazed over his eyes became, barely a ring of green around the overly black pupils, and the specks of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Compared the nakedness of his own body to how clothed Castiel still was. Lost in the immense pleasure, Dean barely noticed how Castiel hadnât removed his layers. Yet with his entire being one delightful static he could take in the little details. Dean floats on a cloud of pure delight as Castiel pumps his dripping dick with abandon. Giggles while Castiel kisses against his chest, rucking up the sweaty shirt he wears.
Soon the static turns into a lightning storm, the cloud he rests on darkening. Dean is struck by a stray bolt, piercing his spirit and waking him from his spell. His body groans with the need for release. His wrists bleed from how theyâve rubbed the metal cuffs. Huffing, Dean begs his angel, âCan I⊠Oh please, please, please, Castiel, can IâŠ?â
Castiel nods, âOf course.â
The divider snaps in two, Deanâs hands raking through Castielâs hair. His fingertips twitch with newfound freedom. Overwhelmed by the different choices, Dean feels drunk. His nails scrape against Castielâs scalp, down his neck and across his trench coat. He grips the jacket as the giddiness fades into his riptide-like orgasm.
Come shoots from his dick without warning, ripping a roar out from a primal part of Deanâs being. Â His legs bounce and his vision dangerously fades for a moment. Dean shuts down, sagging onto Castielâs shoulder. In the next beat his systems reboot, and he gasps for breath.
âCas,â he breathes, â Casssssss ⊠CasCasCasCasCasCasCasCas-â
âIâm right here, Dean,â Castiel whispers, stroking his head, âYou were so good⊠so good.â
Dean chuckles, chains rattling. âDonât know âbout that,â he shrugs, âI touched youâŠâ
âI said it was okay, didnât I?â
He sighs. âThis is all really okay with you?â
Castiel halts, the suddenness scaring Dean. Makes him fear he said something wrong, especially when his angel draws back and cups his hands in his face. âDean,â Castiel says, âThere are no words to describe how okay I am with all of this. I am post-verbal, completely. Nothing in English, Enochian, or any other language can come close to describing the fire that burns inside for you. I onlyâŠâ He ducks his gaze, sheepish for the first time since he entered, âI only hope that whatever⊠this was⊠it wasnât an ending, or a means to an end. Itâs a beginning . Is that⊠what you want?â
Deanâs face hurts from how wide his grin stretches. âYou kidding?â he laughs, âIâm not going anywhere . Chuck himself couldnât write me out of your life, or vice versa. What we did now, it ainât no âOnce Upon a Timeâ... but Iâll be damned if we donât get the âHappily Ever Afterâ we deserve.â
Their foreheads knock into each other so Dean can only see Castielâs face. Studies the gentle blue waves of his eyes, peaceful enough to lull him to sleep. His blinks slow and lengthen, lids heavier each time.
Castiel huffs. âYouâre tired.â
âNo Iâm not,â Dean yawns, straightening against the divider. âI can still go. I have toâŠâ he glances at Castielâs crotch, âitâd be selfish if you did all that and I konk out like some pillow princess.â
âI wonât mind, Dean,â he tells him, âDonât feel obligated. Besides⊠we have the time.â
Dean startles, lips parting. âYeah⊠yeah, I guess we do.â
âLay down, Dean. RelaxâŠâ Castiel guides Deanâs head to the side, laying it on the jeans he folded earlier. Then his angel follows, wrapping his arm around Dean. Castielâs chest blanketed his back, easing Dean into unconsciousness.
Before his eyes closed, Dean wrapped both his hands around Castielâs, squeezing it. âIâm so happyâŠâ
âAs am I. Now rest⊠Iâll be here when you wake upâŠâ
He wakes with the slam of the front door, a frightful breath rushing into his body. Dean jumps to a sitting position, staring wildly at his brother.
Sam gapes down at him, bag plopping beside him as his grip slackened considerably. Skin pale, his brotherâs hazel eyes fade to grey as he processes the sight in front of him. Dean uses the time to take his still shackled hands and pulled his shirt over his junk. âCas,â he hisses, âCas, wake up!â
Castiel growls from behind him. âIâm not asleep, Dean.â
âYes, you are.â
âAngels donât sleep.â
âOh, then you chose to let Sam walk in without warning me?â
His angel perks up, squinting an eye open to see the younger Winchester standing in front of the still open door like a zombie. Flying to his feet, Castiel stumbles over to the bed. âSam?â he gasps, âWhat are - what are you doing back so soon?â
Watching Castiel panic sets Sam off. Realizing what he walked in on, he claps a hand over his eyes and spins on his heel. âThis isnât what I had in mind when I left you two alone!â
Dean rolls his eyes. âSorry, Sam, but how else were we supposed to pass the time?â
Sam splutters, shoulders tensing. âI canât believe you two were here⊠while I had to salt ânâ burn all by myself!â
âI apologize for the deception, Sam,â Castiel blushes, âif you had known exactly what impulses Moreley made Dean act on, then you would have seen how prudent it was that I stayed here.â
Curiosity piqued, Sam cranes his neck to the side and peeks in. He wonât look at Dean, still pantless. Instead he focuses on Castiel. âHis impulses?â
Dean sighs. âCas here was more magnetic than usual⊠my hands couldnât stay away?â
Samâs eyes rolled heavenward, the hand hovering nearby steeples at his temple. âCould you please put on pants if youâre going to be an idiot?â
âItâs kinda hard when youâre handcuffedâŠâ Dean bites his lip, faltering somewhat. âThis⊠youâre not upset, are you?â
âKinda,â Sam admits, terrifying Dean, âI mean I was worrying the ghost was gonna make you hurt yourself when all it wanted was for you to fool around with your best friend? I couldâve left you two in the car if that were the case⊠at least I wouldnât have been alone.â
Deanâs heart calms at the confession. Glancing over at Castiel, however, he sees his angelâs expression dim. Sensing what needs to be done, Dean clears his throat. âActually,â he says, âwe werenât⊠fooling around.â
Sam turns to him, shocked. âWhat?â
âMe and Cas,â Dean continues, smiling, âit was more than that, Sam. Deeper and⊠shit. Like, you might see me holding his hand without needing some wackadoo ghost prompting me. So Iâm asking again⊠youâre not upset, right?â
âDean, IâŠâ Sam offers him a smile, âno, I could never⊠Iâm happy for you two.â He looks between them. âHappy, but also traumatized⊠I didnât need to see your dick.â
Dean pulls his shirt further over his junk. âThere were more important things than getting dressed⊠at the time.â
âIf you give us a few minutes,â Castiel says, âwe can have this place as clean as you left it -â
âNope,â Sam cuts him off, groping around for his duffle, âyou could bathe this entire place in a blacklight and there wouldnât be a bright spot, I still wonât be able to sleep. Iâm gonna see if thereâs another room or⊠sleep in the Impala. You two can have this room.â
He almost leaves until Dean calls for him. âWhereâd you put the handcuff key?â
âBedside drawer!â Sam shuts the door behind him, Dean and Castiel alone again.
Dean stands, moving towards the drawer. Finding the key, he makes quick work of unlocking them. He chucks them to the wayside and rubs his ruined wrists.
Castiel glides over, gently bringing Deanâs wrists close. He lightly brushes his lips against the skin there, a rush of electricity crackling against it. The tiny wounds and cuts heal themselves, the red skin fading into its usual color.
âNice.â
âSo?â Castiel says, âHow are you feeling? Are your hands your own again?â
Dean shrugs, laying his hands against Castielâs shoulders. âKinda hard to tell⊠I donât have any other impulses Iâm ignoring at the moment?â
Castiel raises a brow. âReally? None?â
âOkay⊠maybe one.â
âWhat is it?â
He shoves Castiel against the bed, scrambling on top of him. Legs spread wide to straddle his angel. âYeah,â he whispers, âI chose to do that.â
Castiel chuckles, âWas that it?â
Dean kisses him, rolling his crotch so it rubbed against his angelâs tenting slacks. âNot even close⊠Iâve got a lot of pent-up frustration I need to work through.â
âWell we have the time, Dean.â
âWe do, donât we?â Dean sighs, âWe finally do.â They kiss again, Deanâs hands sliding away from Castielâs wrists to cup his jaw. The stubble scrapes delightfully against his palms, reminding Dean that as fantastical the chain of events were, itâs all real. He and Castiel actually came together and the world didnât end.
Rather, it felt like his world was only beginning.