Fic: (won't) Settle for less
TITLE: (won't) Settle for less
FANDOM: Supernatural
RATING: NC-17
WORDCOUNT: 3500-
CHARACTERS: threesome Dean/Lisa/Castiel
SPOILERS: for season 6 only (and set in season 6)
NOTE THE PERSONAL: For ariadnes_string, who requested "SPN: Dean has some kind of encounter w/t Cas during the year he was with Lisa. Real or unreal, I don't care. Gen, slash, het, whatever!" Not quite, but I still think you'll enjoy what I managed to do with your prompt ;-P Unlike the other requests, which I wrote last winter and only needed to finish up before posting, I only wrote the beginning of this before losing my momentum... luckily I managed to find it again and I finished it today! Just for you, babes, I wrote my very first piece of smut! I hope you're proud (except it's much less porny than what the rating and the 'smut' tag would have you think, so... *shifty eyes*).
NOTE THE GENERAL: Title from Muse's most excellent Bliss, which you could consider a sort of multimedia garnish to the fic... even the official video is appropriate!
NOTE THE FINAL: Lisa is very much a central character here: if you're thinking of reading "the Dean/Cas bits but skip the Lisa parts, can't stand that b**ch" then do yourself a favour and just don't. I hope it's redundant of me to say this, but no character bashing in the comments either. Thanks.
After the year as a civilian (after sleeping every night next to Lisa) Dean’s dreams had taken a bit of a mundane turn: shopping in endless isles, driving around looking for Ben’s school to pick him up and being hopelessly lost, turning up at a barbeque covered in blood and everybody staring at him… but the nightmares, the really bad ones about being back in Hell with Alistair, had sort of tapered off. He’d had fewer and fewer of them, until he thought that he was basically over the whole thing (instead he took to dreaming that he was in an empty white room and he’d shout for hours for Sammy, calling him, until he was hoarse and his voice would give out, and if only he could keep shouting a little longer he knew he’d get a reply; but that’s another story).
After he hit the road again with Sam, Hell crept back into his nightly routine, and sometimes Dean convinced himself that that was just a sign that he was back on track, back to his real self instead of playing at being domestic.
Sam never commented on it; Dean sometimes would apologize for waking him up (Sam was always up when Dean eventually wrestled himself awake) and Sam would always tell him not to worry, that he hadn’t been asleep; sometimes he’d add a sympathetic face and say something insipid like “bad dreams, eh?” but he’d never press Dean for details. Often he’d pour Dean a shot without any comment of any kind, and Dean would drink it automatically but then it would always sit like lead in his stomach.
After they found out about Sam’s missing soul and the admission that he was incapable of giving a crap, the most Dean would get was finding a bottle ready on his nightstand with a waiting glass. He actually preferred it that way.
This time it was a double feature: his basic back-in-Hell-with-Alistair spiced up with the more recent in-Hell-looking-for-Sam’s-soul: if he’d torture a soul into a full demon, Alistair would unchain him and let him go searching; the soul on the rack was Samuel, and no matter what Dean did he kept saying that a Campbell could do better. Alistair was prissily alternating suggestions and commenting on how Dean was his favorite, and it seemed like he was never going to get out of there until Castiel arrived.
He couldn’t see the angel but he was aware of his presence, just behind him and to the side, barely a glimpse of cold, pure power that was the opposite of that place; a soldier of Heaven in it’s true form, his sheer presence washing away the shadows of Dean’s memories, pale imitation of the real Hell.
“Why did you do that?” Dean cried, too afraid of turning to face the angel full on and burning his eyeballs right out. “Sam’s soul is there! I need to get back and finish this!”
Sam’s soul has been reunited with his body. We checked together, Castiel reminded him in something that was neither a human voice nor could be his true voice.
The scenery around them, which had gone dull and neutral, began to take shape anew, and it solidified around them into a house Dean didn’t recognize.
You also asked me to check up on the Braedens, and then you didn’t seem satisfied when I did and told you they were fine.
Dean didn’t remember this happening, but it was too late to protest: he could hear a female voice talking in a steady, even tone, scolding somebody.
“And then,” Lisa was saying, “you’ll tell me everything you’ve been up to. And you’ll answer all my questions, and you won’t be evasive, and…” Her voice cracked on something like a sob.
Dean took off at a run, the house much bigger than he’d given it credit for, almost as big as a hotel, until he skidded to a stop on the threshold of a perfect replica of the living room they had in Indiana, where Lisa was standing, arms wrapped tightly around and head buried in the shoulder of…
“Get away from her!” Dean shouted, hands balling up in fists as a wave of pure, helpless rage washed over him. Someone, something wearing his face was holding Lisa in its arms and Dean was totally and utterly unarmed.
She is not in any danger, Dean. Castiel’s voice sounded patient even though it wasn’t making any sound at all. You’re both dreaming.
“You- you brought me inside her head? That’s not cool, Cas, you can’t just do stuff like that, dammit. Lisa, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, we’re leaving right away, shouldn’t have been here in the first place.
She can’t hear you unless I allow it.
“Great, we’ve just dialed the ‘creepy’ up to eleven. Let’s just get out of here, ok?”
There is no ‘here’; I am holding both your consciousnesses in a… neutral place.
Lisa started to kiss the Dean-that-wasn’t Dean, and the rating of the kiss very quickly went from PG to Holy Whoa. Dean, the real one, closed his eyes and passed a hand over his face.
“So who’s he?”
Lisa created him.
Clothes were starting to come off. Despite everything, Dean was finding it hard to avert his eyes from Lisa: her bare arms, the curve of her shoulders and yeah, her wonderful ass (god, he’d missed her ass), and the fact that that… that interloper was getting all the action when he was right there and-
Suddenly Lisa looked straight at him. For a moment neither moved, Dean waiting for the yelling to start again in earnest, but then she just smiled invitingly and extended a hand.
“Huh, Cas? What’s happening?”
“Dean… how long are you going to make me wait?” Lisa said, her tone the opposite of pissed. In fact, she sounded… playful, sensual, and in a thoroughly good mood. Dean found it hard to deny her and, like a moth to a flame, her closed the distance between them, grabbed her face with both his hands and started kissing her. It felt incredible. Instead of a physical sensation, he experienced the raw emotion of holding and touching a woman he loved. Real sex obviously was better, but this was much more than what he thought he’d ever get again. And he was making out with the actual Lisa, he wasn’t just dreaming of her, and she was there and maybe she’d remember and-
“Cas?” Dean called with a little urgency, as Lisa started to get impatient and was making sure they both got rid of their clothes as quickly as possible. “Do you mind?”
Not at all, Dean.
The fake Dean was still standing behind Lisa, kissing her neck and with hands everywhere, but if she was creating him Dean couldn’t do much about it.
“I mean,” Dean insisted, trying to slow things down a bit, “you can go now. Thank you.”
There was a moment of silence. Lisa was looking at him oddly.
I can’t ‘go’ Dean, not if you wish for the dream to continue.
“Who are you talking to?” Lisa asked. Even the fake Dean had stopped and was looking around curiously.
“Huh, it’s Cas. Remember, I told you about him? He brought me here and-“
“Oh! The angel! Can I meet him? I want to meet him!”
The fake Dean vanished. Clothes started to materialize back on their bodies. The dream was taking a turn Dean wasn’t happy with at all but before he could protest, Lisa called for Cas by his full name and the damn angel appeared right next to them, well inside their personal space.
Lisa squirmed out of their embrace and reached out to touch Cas’ face. And, for whatever reason, she kept stroking his cheek without saying anything, just petting him like a cat. Meanwhile Dean tried to telegraph ‘go away!’ through the look he was sharing with him but without actually saying anything.
“Thank you for taking him to me,” Lisa finally said, and kissed Castiel full on the lips. Castiel kissed her back with the same level of competence he had displayed with Meg, making Dean feel the stirrings of what had to be jealousy because what else was he going to feel on seeing Lisa kissing somebody else?
“I’m glad to be able to accomplish something for a friend,” Cas replied, voice weary and even lower and more gravelly than usual. Dean didn’t really want to make the connection, but he actually sounded like someone out of a porn, and as soon as the thought popped up in his mind the lights dimmed and the whole living room changed into a cheap set with red tapestries and a matching shag carpet; the sofa had turned into a huge four-poster bed and… yeah those were adult toys on what still looked like their coffee table.
“Cas, what the hell?”
“You’re doing this, Dean,” he replied a little testily, “you and Lisa have free reign over the content of the dream: I’m merely providing the canvas.”
“I like this canvas,” Lisa giggled, running her hands down Castiel’s arms and up his chest. She kissed him again, and this time Dean decided to do something about it.
“What about me?” he whined, hugging her from behind and kissing her neck right behind her ear, the place he knew sent her completely crazy. Except he’d forgotten that physicality here didn’t work the same as in the real world; warmth and love spread through him from his chest, a rush of sensation that shocked him for its intensity.
“There’s plenty for everyone,” Lisa replied, winding Cas’ tie around her hand and giving it a yank. “We were about to have a threesome, Dean, and I’m not going to settle for less.”
“You never- that is, we can’t- it’s not… I don’t-“
“Dean,” she said, shushing him with a warm caress, “it’s just a dream. Relax.”
“It isn’t though,” he insisted a little desperately; how could he make her see? “I’m really here! We’re really together, Lisa.”
She regarded him affectionately for a moment. “Then it’s even better,” she finally said before kissing him with focus and intent.
If there was one way to describe it, “mind-meltingly hot” was probably it; Dean’s thoughts, already rendered simpler from his slumbering state, dispersed into unimportant fragments that coalesced again with only one focus: giving Lisa everything she wanted, and giving it to her but good.
“Neck,” Lisa indicated obligingly, tilting her head for better access, and he dove for it, reminding himself ‘no hickies’ before realizing that he couldn’t actually leave a mark. “Mmmh,” Lisa purred, “you have lovely stubble. Come here.”
But Dean was already there and- oh, right, she was talking to Castiel. Castiel who, while Dean had been busy nipping all around Lisa’s collarbone, had gotten naked. No, wait, all three of them were naked, when had that happened?
“You’re bossy,” Dean told her, with a little hint of awe. “I’m not missing this opportunity,” she replied, sobering a little and perfectly serious. At that point Castiel hugged her from behind, hands going up to cup her breasts and teasing her nipples and generally imitating what the fake Dean had been doing before the interruption.
Dean, craving her attention, threaded one hand through her hair and gave her a gentle tug, drawing her back into a very through kiss, while he slid the fingers of his other hand down her stomach, ghosting over her inner thighs, teasing her just at the edges of her crotch. Pressed all together like this, Cas’s hairy arms were rubbing against his chest as well sending a strange warmth to his heart, a feeling not unlike what Lisa’s touch was giving him and at the same time completely different and alien. It took a bit for Dean to realize that it was unique to Cas’s touch precisely because it was Cas. He wondered what his own touch felt like for Lisa, and for the angel.
“Yes,” Lisa said breathlessly, perhaps reading his mind, “don’t slow down, keep going.”
He couldn’t tell whom the instructions were intended for, but he could feel that Cas was slowly but surely trailing kisses down her spine, heading south, and Dean thought it was a great idea and started to blaze the same path down her chest.
He detoured for a bit to lavish some attention on her nipples, and Lisa took the opportunity to grab his cock and start fingering his balls, playfully and lightly, shocking him again with how the touch was sensual but at the same time it wasn’t physical. He’d been so starved for touch, lately, after a full year of snuggling in bed, and on the couch, and in the shower, and- he’d never realized, too, how much casual contact he had had throughout the day with Lisa, and even with Ben, a pat on the shoulder here, a gentle out-of-my-way push there, a hey-I’m-listening hand on the arm... he and Sam had never been that touchy-feely, but lately it seemed there was even less to be had. What he was having now was so good and so intense it was practically saturating his need for any kind of contact, and hopefully it would tide him over for a good while, because he had a feeling he was not going to get another chance.
With renewed determination, he went down with his lips, unerringly finding her clit and giving it a few preliminary licks. Lisa shouted a triumphant “YES”, her hands in his hair and urging him on. He didn’t need any encouragement to start fucking her with his tongue, but he appreciated the enthusiasm.
He slid his hands around, up her thighs and to her buttocks only to find Castiel’s hands already there, and at the same time the angel’s chin bumped Dean’s between Lisa’s legs. If they both tilted their heads a little downwards, they could have kissed.
“Good boys,” Lisa exclaimed, almost wonderingly, as if she couldn’t believe her good luck.
Dean straightened up, impatient and suddenly wanting to get to the next serving. It should have involved a lot more coordination and maneuvering, especially considering they were standing up, but one of the many perks of being in a world entirely ruled by their own desires was that thinking and action were of course one and the same. Dean’s cock slid easily into Lisa and he at last knew a bliss that he had never tasted.
They were, well and truly, one. The type of union that now he realized the act of sex was just mimicking, imperfectly and fatally doomed to never achieve, he could have here, with his mind and her mind melding into one body. Dean was still riding the wave of pleasure when another consciousness was added to them, and they were three and one simultaneously as Cas straightened too and took Lisa from behind just as easily as Dean had done.
Dean felt himself soar up high on a feeling so incredible he was shocked into opening his eyes. Lisa had thrown her head back, resting it on Castiel’s shoulder, and she was laughing, giddy and incredulous with happiness. And there, right there, mere inches from him, was Castiel, looking startled and a little in awe despite himself.
Dean opened his mouth, to do what exactly he wasn’t sure, but Castiel locked eyes with him in that moment and slid a hand from Lisa’s side to Dean’s, up and up until he fitted his palm over Dean’s scar and that was it.
The feeling was so intense that Dean nearly woke up. He had come in his boxers, and the covers were stifling him, but he wrenched himself back into the dream with superhuman effort. He didn’t want to leave. Screw Paradise. There was nothing better than this and he wasn’t going so easily.
He came back to a feeling of contentment, the place no longer a cardboard cut-out of a porn shoot but somewhere safe and soft, gone hazy at the edges.
Lisa was lying on her back, her shoulder and head on Cas’s chest, idly playing with her hair, and Dean fitted himself to her like a piece of a puzzle finding it’s perfect match. He buried his face in her breasts, inhaling a smell that wasn’t there and reveling in the feelings the contact was giving him. Hugging her, he bumped his fingers against the third body and, feeling a pleasant jolt, he spread his hand on warm skin, thumb coming to rest in the dent of a bellybutton.
Dean was trying to block out the idea that he’d have to eventually leave when Lisa’s emotions shifted, and he felt something hot and cold go through his body. He looked up and right into her eyes, and he saw that her expression had grown weary and concerned.
“Where are you, Dean? Why won’t you let me know what’s happening, what happened- you’re ignoring my calls.” She was worried, and worry was spreading throughout the dream, threaded through with anger and unease and betrayal and, underneath it all, wounded and weak but still there, hope.
Dean cupped her face with his hand and remained silent, at a loss for words. How could he explain everything to her, here, like this, when he had never even dared to put it in clear terms just between himself and his conscience?
“He is safe, for now. And so are you,” Castiel said, his voice bleeding the haziness away. Clothes were reappearing, and the house was taking back a shape that was nearer to the real one.
“For how long?” Lisa whispered, still holding Dean’s gaze.
“I’m working on keeping everybody safe, trust me,” Castiel replied again, and with a tenderness that Dean hadn’t expected him capable of, he stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek. She closed her eyes, a tear escaping down her nose, and vanished.
The sense of loss hit him like a ton of bricks, just like the first time, and maybe even worse because it felt even more wrenching, like two souls ripping apart. “What happened?” Dean croaked, unable to get a hold of his emotions in this non-place.
The landscape contracted and morphed, and he ended up with Castiel on the back seat of the Impala, under an endless starry sky. Dean had a pair of jeans, and Cas his dark dress trousers but nothing else, and Dean took advantage by scooting closer and sliding his hand up Castiel’s chest, bringing his fingers to grasp around Cas’s neck. He could feel a pulse underneath the skin, but it wasn’t blood flowing, it was an ebb and flow of power that could only be angelic grace.
“She was crying in her sleep. Ben heard her and woke her up,” Castiel whispered, bringing his own hand up to grab Dean’s wrist and gently prying his hand away, tucking it back against Dean’s own heart. “I can never seem to bring you peace,” he continued, sadly, “and yet that is all I wish I could do for you.”
Dean wanted to laugh, because the idea of having peace for himself was so impossible as to have become nonsensical. Once, perhaps, if he’d been allowed to go with Tessa that first time he was supposed to die, he might have had a right to it; but after everything that had happened, and all he’d done, he had accepted that that option was just not for him.
“You’ve done enough, Cas. Thanks,” he replied sincerely, leaning back and turning to stare out front. They were on the edge of a lake, similar to the one where he’d first met Castiel in a dream, fishing. The angel kept staring at him until Dean looked back again.
“Dean?” He finally asked, voice as unsure as he’d ever heard from him.
“Yeah?”
“Do you still think that everything, absolutely everything must be done to stop the Apocalypse?”
“Yes,” Dean replied immediately and firmly. “Of course. You having doubts, now?”
Castiel cut his gaze to the side and downward, but he replied equally firmly and simply: “No.”
“If you want-“ Dean tried to offer, but Castiel cut him off by placing his hand on Dean’s scarred shoulder again, sending a cascade of warmth throughout his whole body.
“I promise you, Dean: I will stop Raphael. I will save everybody. You won’t have to worry anymore.”
Before Dean could reply Cas pressed two fingers to his temple and he found himself sitting up in his motel bed, feeling as sticky as if he’d crawled through a vat of slime.
Sam was sitting at the kitchenette table, surfing the internet. He looked up briefly, smirked and asked “Good dream?”
“Yeah,” Dean replied, turning so he didn’t have to see Sam’s entirely unconcerned, cool and assessing gaze; “yeah, it kinda really was."
end
NOTE THE RECKONING: Haven't watched season seven yet. Yeah, I know. Just, please, please no spoilers for season seven in the comments, I'd really appreciate it, thanks.
FANDOM: Supernatural
RATING: NC-17
WORDCOUNT: 3500-
CHARACTERS: threesome Dean/Lisa/Castiel
SPOILERS: for season 6 only (and set in season 6)
NOTE THE PERSONAL: For ariadnes_string, who requested "SPN: Dean has some kind of encounter w/t Cas during the year he was with Lisa. Real or unreal, I don't care. Gen, slash, het, whatever!" Not quite, but I still think you'll enjoy what I managed to do with your prompt ;-P Unlike the other requests, which I wrote last winter and only needed to finish up before posting, I only wrote the beginning of this before losing my momentum... luckily I managed to find it again and I finished it today! Just for you, babes, I wrote my very first piece of smut! I hope you're proud (except it's much less porny than what the rating and the 'smut' tag would have you think, so... *shifty eyes*).
NOTE THE GENERAL: Title from Muse's most excellent Bliss, which you could consider a sort of multimedia garnish to the fic... even the official video is appropriate!
NOTE THE FINAL: Lisa is very much a central character here: if you're thinking of reading "the Dean/Cas bits but skip the Lisa parts, can't stand that b**ch" then do yourself a favour and just don't. I hope it's redundant of me to say this, but no character bashing in the comments either. Thanks.
After the year as a civilian (after sleeping every night next to Lisa) Dean’s dreams had taken a bit of a mundane turn: shopping in endless isles, driving around looking for Ben’s school to pick him up and being hopelessly lost, turning up at a barbeque covered in blood and everybody staring at him… but the nightmares, the really bad ones about being back in Hell with Alistair, had sort of tapered off. He’d had fewer and fewer of them, until he thought that he was basically over the whole thing (instead he took to dreaming that he was in an empty white room and he’d shout for hours for Sammy, calling him, until he was hoarse and his voice would give out, and if only he could keep shouting a little longer he knew he’d get a reply; but that’s another story).
After he hit the road again with Sam, Hell crept back into his nightly routine, and sometimes Dean convinced himself that that was just a sign that he was back on track, back to his real self instead of playing at being domestic.
Sam never commented on it; Dean sometimes would apologize for waking him up (Sam was always up when Dean eventually wrestled himself awake) and Sam would always tell him not to worry, that he hadn’t been asleep; sometimes he’d add a sympathetic face and say something insipid like “bad dreams, eh?” but he’d never press Dean for details. Often he’d pour Dean a shot without any comment of any kind, and Dean would drink it automatically but then it would always sit like lead in his stomach.
After they found out about Sam’s missing soul and the admission that he was incapable of giving a crap, the most Dean would get was finding a bottle ready on his nightstand with a waiting glass. He actually preferred it that way.
This time it was a double feature: his basic back-in-Hell-with-Alistair spiced up with the more recent in-Hell-looking-for-Sam’s-soul: if he’d torture a soul into a full demon, Alistair would unchain him and let him go searching; the soul on the rack was Samuel, and no matter what Dean did he kept saying that a Campbell could do better. Alistair was prissily alternating suggestions and commenting on how Dean was his favorite, and it seemed like he was never going to get out of there until Castiel arrived.
He couldn’t see the angel but he was aware of his presence, just behind him and to the side, barely a glimpse of cold, pure power that was the opposite of that place; a soldier of Heaven in it’s true form, his sheer presence washing away the shadows of Dean’s memories, pale imitation of the real Hell.
“Why did you do that?” Dean cried, too afraid of turning to face the angel full on and burning his eyeballs right out. “Sam’s soul is there! I need to get back and finish this!”
Sam’s soul has been reunited with his body. We checked together, Castiel reminded him in something that was neither a human voice nor could be his true voice.
The scenery around them, which had gone dull and neutral, began to take shape anew, and it solidified around them into a house Dean didn’t recognize.
You also asked me to check up on the Braedens, and then you didn’t seem satisfied when I did and told you they were fine.
Dean didn’t remember this happening, but it was too late to protest: he could hear a female voice talking in a steady, even tone, scolding somebody.
“And then,” Lisa was saying, “you’ll tell me everything you’ve been up to. And you’ll answer all my questions, and you won’t be evasive, and…” Her voice cracked on something like a sob.
Dean took off at a run, the house much bigger than he’d given it credit for, almost as big as a hotel, until he skidded to a stop on the threshold of a perfect replica of the living room they had in Indiana, where Lisa was standing, arms wrapped tightly around and head buried in the shoulder of…
“Get away from her!” Dean shouted, hands balling up in fists as a wave of pure, helpless rage washed over him. Someone, something wearing his face was holding Lisa in its arms and Dean was totally and utterly unarmed.
She is not in any danger, Dean. Castiel’s voice sounded patient even though it wasn’t making any sound at all. You’re both dreaming.
“You- you brought me inside her head? That’s not cool, Cas, you can’t just do stuff like that, dammit. Lisa, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, we’re leaving right away, shouldn’t have been here in the first place.
She can’t hear you unless I allow it.
“Great, we’ve just dialed the ‘creepy’ up to eleven. Let’s just get out of here, ok?”
There is no ‘here’; I am holding both your consciousnesses in a… neutral place.
Lisa started to kiss the Dean-that-wasn’t Dean, and the rating of the kiss very quickly went from PG to Holy Whoa. Dean, the real one, closed his eyes and passed a hand over his face.
“So who’s he?”
Lisa created him.
Clothes were starting to come off. Despite everything, Dean was finding it hard to avert his eyes from Lisa: her bare arms, the curve of her shoulders and yeah, her wonderful ass (god, he’d missed her ass), and the fact that that… that interloper was getting all the action when he was right there and-
Suddenly Lisa looked straight at him. For a moment neither moved, Dean waiting for the yelling to start again in earnest, but then she just smiled invitingly and extended a hand.
“Huh, Cas? What’s happening?”
“Dean… how long are you going to make me wait?” Lisa said, her tone the opposite of pissed. In fact, she sounded… playful, sensual, and in a thoroughly good mood. Dean found it hard to deny her and, like a moth to a flame, her closed the distance between them, grabbed her face with both his hands and started kissing her. It felt incredible. Instead of a physical sensation, he experienced the raw emotion of holding and touching a woman he loved. Real sex obviously was better, but this was much more than what he thought he’d ever get again. And he was making out with the actual Lisa, he wasn’t just dreaming of her, and she was there and maybe she’d remember and-
“Cas?” Dean called with a little urgency, as Lisa started to get impatient and was making sure they both got rid of their clothes as quickly as possible. “Do you mind?”
Not at all, Dean.
The fake Dean was still standing behind Lisa, kissing her neck and with hands everywhere, but if she was creating him Dean couldn’t do much about it.
“I mean,” Dean insisted, trying to slow things down a bit, “you can go now. Thank you.”
There was a moment of silence. Lisa was looking at him oddly.
I can’t ‘go’ Dean, not if you wish for the dream to continue.
“Who are you talking to?” Lisa asked. Even the fake Dean had stopped and was looking around curiously.
“Huh, it’s Cas. Remember, I told you about him? He brought me here and-“
“Oh! The angel! Can I meet him? I want to meet him!”
The fake Dean vanished. Clothes started to materialize back on their bodies. The dream was taking a turn Dean wasn’t happy with at all but before he could protest, Lisa called for Cas by his full name and the damn angel appeared right next to them, well inside their personal space.
Lisa squirmed out of their embrace and reached out to touch Cas’ face. And, for whatever reason, she kept stroking his cheek without saying anything, just petting him like a cat. Meanwhile Dean tried to telegraph ‘go away!’ through the look he was sharing with him but without actually saying anything.
“Thank you for taking him to me,” Lisa finally said, and kissed Castiel full on the lips. Castiel kissed her back with the same level of competence he had displayed with Meg, making Dean feel the stirrings of what had to be jealousy because what else was he going to feel on seeing Lisa kissing somebody else?
“I’m glad to be able to accomplish something for a friend,” Cas replied, voice weary and even lower and more gravelly than usual. Dean didn’t really want to make the connection, but he actually sounded like someone out of a porn, and as soon as the thought popped up in his mind the lights dimmed and the whole living room changed into a cheap set with red tapestries and a matching shag carpet; the sofa had turned into a huge four-poster bed and… yeah those were adult toys on what still looked like their coffee table.
“Cas, what the hell?”
“You’re doing this, Dean,” he replied a little testily, “you and Lisa have free reign over the content of the dream: I’m merely providing the canvas.”
“I like this canvas,” Lisa giggled, running her hands down Castiel’s arms and up his chest. She kissed him again, and this time Dean decided to do something about it.
“What about me?” he whined, hugging her from behind and kissing her neck right behind her ear, the place he knew sent her completely crazy. Except he’d forgotten that physicality here didn’t work the same as in the real world; warmth and love spread through him from his chest, a rush of sensation that shocked him for its intensity.
“There’s plenty for everyone,” Lisa replied, winding Cas’ tie around her hand and giving it a yank. “We were about to have a threesome, Dean, and I’m not going to settle for less.”
“You never- that is, we can’t- it’s not… I don’t-“
“Dean,” she said, shushing him with a warm caress, “it’s just a dream. Relax.”
“It isn’t though,” he insisted a little desperately; how could he make her see? “I’m really here! We’re really together, Lisa.”
She regarded him affectionately for a moment. “Then it’s even better,” she finally said before kissing him with focus and intent.
If there was one way to describe it, “mind-meltingly hot” was probably it; Dean’s thoughts, already rendered simpler from his slumbering state, dispersed into unimportant fragments that coalesced again with only one focus: giving Lisa everything she wanted, and giving it to her but good.
“Neck,” Lisa indicated obligingly, tilting her head for better access, and he dove for it, reminding himself ‘no hickies’ before realizing that he couldn’t actually leave a mark. “Mmmh,” Lisa purred, “you have lovely stubble. Come here.”
But Dean was already there and- oh, right, she was talking to Castiel. Castiel who, while Dean had been busy nipping all around Lisa’s collarbone, had gotten naked. No, wait, all three of them were naked, when had that happened?
“You’re bossy,” Dean told her, with a little hint of awe. “I’m not missing this opportunity,” she replied, sobering a little and perfectly serious. At that point Castiel hugged her from behind, hands going up to cup her breasts and teasing her nipples and generally imitating what the fake Dean had been doing before the interruption.
Dean, craving her attention, threaded one hand through her hair and gave her a gentle tug, drawing her back into a very through kiss, while he slid the fingers of his other hand down her stomach, ghosting over her inner thighs, teasing her just at the edges of her crotch. Pressed all together like this, Cas’s hairy arms were rubbing against his chest as well sending a strange warmth to his heart, a feeling not unlike what Lisa’s touch was giving him and at the same time completely different and alien. It took a bit for Dean to realize that it was unique to Cas’s touch precisely because it was Cas. He wondered what his own touch felt like for Lisa, and for the angel.
“Yes,” Lisa said breathlessly, perhaps reading his mind, “don’t slow down, keep going.”
He couldn’t tell whom the instructions were intended for, but he could feel that Cas was slowly but surely trailing kisses down her spine, heading south, and Dean thought it was a great idea and started to blaze the same path down her chest.
He detoured for a bit to lavish some attention on her nipples, and Lisa took the opportunity to grab his cock and start fingering his balls, playfully and lightly, shocking him again with how the touch was sensual but at the same time it wasn’t physical. He’d been so starved for touch, lately, after a full year of snuggling in bed, and on the couch, and in the shower, and- he’d never realized, too, how much casual contact he had had throughout the day with Lisa, and even with Ben, a pat on the shoulder here, a gentle out-of-my-way push there, a hey-I’m-listening hand on the arm... he and Sam had never been that touchy-feely, but lately it seemed there was even less to be had. What he was having now was so good and so intense it was practically saturating his need for any kind of contact, and hopefully it would tide him over for a good while, because he had a feeling he was not going to get another chance.
With renewed determination, he went down with his lips, unerringly finding her clit and giving it a few preliminary licks. Lisa shouted a triumphant “YES”, her hands in his hair and urging him on. He didn’t need any encouragement to start fucking her with his tongue, but he appreciated the enthusiasm.
He slid his hands around, up her thighs and to her buttocks only to find Castiel’s hands already there, and at the same time the angel’s chin bumped Dean’s between Lisa’s legs. If they both tilted their heads a little downwards, they could have kissed.
“Good boys,” Lisa exclaimed, almost wonderingly, as if she couldn’t believe her good luck.
Dean straightened up, impatient and suddenly wanting to get to the next serving. It should have involved a lot more coordination and maneuvering, especially considering they were standing up, but one of the many perks of being in a world entirely ruled by their own desires was that thinking and action were of course one and the same. Dean’s cock slid easily into Lisa and he at last knew a bliss that he had never tasted.
They were, well and truly, one. The type of union that now he realized the act of sex was just mimicking, imperfectly and fatally doomed to never achieve, he could have here, with his mind and her mind melding into one body. Dean was still riding the wave of pleasure when another consciousness was added to them, and they were three and one simultaneously as Cas straightened too and took Lisa from behind just as easily as Dean had done.
Dean felt himself soar up high on a feeling so incredible he was shocked into opening his eyes. Lisa had thrown her head back, resting it on Castiel’s shoulder, and she was laughing, giddy and incredulous with happiness. And there, right there, mere inches from him, was Castiel, looking startled and a little in awe despite himself.
Dean opened his mouth, to do what exactly he wasn’t sure, but Castiel locked eyes with him in that moment and slid a hand from Lisa’s side to Dean’s, up and up until he fitted his palm over Dean’s scar and that was it.
The feeling was so intense that Dean nearly woke up. He had come in his boxers, and the covers were stifling him, but he wrenched himself back into the dream with superhuman effort. He didn’t want to leave. Screw Paradise. There was nothing better than this and he wasn’t going so easily.
He came back to a feeling of contentment, the place no longer a cardboard cut-out of a porn shoot but somewhere safe and soft, gone hazy at the edges.
Lisa was lying on her back, her shoulder and head on Cas’s chest, idly playing with her hair, and Dean fitted himself to her like a piece of a puzzle finding it’s perfect match. He buried his face in her breasts, inhaling a smell that wasn’t there and reveling in the feelings the contact was giving him. Hugging her, he bumped his fingers against the third body and, feeling a pleasant jolt, he spread his hand on warm skin, thumb coming to rest in the dent of a bellybutton.
Dean was trying to block out the idea that he’d have to eventually leave when Lisa’s emotions shifted, and he felt something hot and cold go through his body. He looked up and right into her eyes, and he saw that her expression had grown weary and concerned.
“Where are you, Dean? Why won’t you let me know what’s happening, what happened- you’re ignoring my calls.” She was worried, and worry was spreading throughout the dream, threaded through with anger and unease and betrayal and, underneath it all, wounded and weak but still there, hope.
Dean cupped her face with his hand and remained silent, at a loss for words. How could he explain everything to her, here, like this, when he had never even dared to put it in clear terms just between himself and his conscience?
“He is safe, for now. And so are you,” Castiel said, his voice bleeding the haziness away. Clothes were reappearing, and the house was taking back a shape that was nearer to the real one.
“For how long?” Lisa whispered, still holding Dean’s gaze.
“I’m working on keeping everybody safe, trust me,” Castiel replied again, and with a tenderness that Dean hadn’t expected him capable of, he stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek. She closed her eyes, a tear escaping down her nose, and vanished.
The sense of loss hit him like a ton of bricks, just like the first time, and maybe even worse because it felt even more wrenching, like two souls ripping apart. “What happened?” Dean croaked, unable to get a hold of his emotions in this non-place.
The landscape contracted and morphed, and he ended up with Castiel on the back seat of the Impala, under an endless starry sky. Dean had a pair of jeans, and Cas his dark dress trousers but nothing else, and Dean took advantage by scooting closer and sliding his hand up Castiel’s chest, bringing his fingers to grasp around Cas’s neck. He could feel a pulse underneath the skin, but it wasn’t blood flowing, it was an ebb and flow of power that could only be angelic grace.
“She was crying in her sleep. Ben heard her and woke her up,” Castiel whispered, bringing his own hand up to grab Dean’s wrist and gently prying his hand away, tucking it back against Dean’s own heart. “I can never seem to bring you peace,” he continued, sadly, “and yet that is all I wish I could do for you.”
Dean wanted to laugh, because the idea of having peace for himself was so impossible as to have become nonsensical. Once, perhaps, if he’d been allowed to go with Tessa that first time he was supposed to die, he might have had a right to it; but after everything that had happened, and all he’d done, he had accepted that that option was just not for him.
“You’ve done enough, Cas. Thanks,” he replied sincerely, leaning back and turning to stare out front. They were on the edge of a lake, similar to the one where he’d first met Castiel in a dream, fishing. The angel kept staring at him until Dean looked back again.
“Dean?” He finally asked, voice as unsure as he’d ever heard from him.
“Yeah?”
“Do you still think that everything, absolutely everything must be done to stop the Apocalypse?”
“Yes,” Dean replied immediately and firmly. “Of course. You having doubts, now?”
Castiel cut his gaze to the side and downward, but he replied equally firmly and simply: “No.”
“If you want-“ Dean tried to offer, but Castiel cut him off by placing his hand on Dean’s scarred shoulder again, sending a cascade of warmth throughout his whole body.
“I promise you, Dean: I will stop Raphael. I will save everybody. You won’t have to worry anymore.”
Before Dean could reply Cas pressed two fingers to his temple and he found himself sitting up in his motel bed, feeling as sticky as if he’d crawled through a vat of slime.
Sam was sitting at the kitchenette table, surfing the internet. He looked up briefly, smirked and asked “Good dream?”
“Yeah,” Dean replied, turning so he didn’t have to see Sam’s entirely unconcerned, cool and assessing gaze; “yeah, it kinda really was."
end
NOTE THE RECKONING: Haven't watched season seven yet. Yeah, I know. Just, please, please no spoilers for season seven in the comments, I'd really appreciate it, thanks.