[FIC] Forgive Me (R) for Spilled_Notes
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Forgive Me
Recipient: spilled_notes
Author: brodeurbunny30
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Summary: Castiel deals with the play of human emotions on his Angelic senses as he prays in church
Author notes: --
He heard the footsteps before he saw the face, and yet Castiel knew exactly who had followed him into the church. The steps were broad and arrogant, especially for being in the House of God.
Castiel didn’t want to take notice, he’d already done enough of that when it came to Dean Winchester.
Life in Jimmy Novak’s body had become difficult of late. Being around humans this much shouldn’t be so hard, and yet it was. He came from a world of decrees and expectations that were beyond human understanding, and Love in Heaven was such a strong constant that other emotions were unnecessary and frowned upon based on what they could encourage within the angels.
Here on Earth, it was difficult to not to let human emotions get the best of him, which was why he was here, again.
Praying.
Castiel felt Dean’s warm hand clap him on the shoulder, he could smell the salt in the sawed off shot-gun that he held in his opposite hand, and though he couldn’t see his face, he knew that he had one eyebrow raised to match the sarcastic quip to follow.
“If God’s MIA, Cas, why are you praying? You should just call his cell phone and leave a voicemail, might be faster.”
Castiel felt the stirrings of anger, and a hint of something he’d been denying and ignoring for some time now. Dean Winchester had an uncanny ability to mock and humiliate what obviously terrified him. Though he’d never admit it, Castiel had seen the minute presence of fear in his blue/green eyes the day he found out what Heaven was pursuing him for.
Now, everything had changed, there was no Heaven to speak of in the traditional sense and they were tracking Archangels like demons for answers to questions they hadn’t thought of yet.
Despite all the evidence, all the events and trauma, Dean still turned a blind eye to the Lord, and scoffed at the seriousness of the situation like he was on just another demon hunt. Truth was, he knew. He knew what was happening, it was just easier to be cynical about it.
It made Castiel want to do things to Dean, things that he had a hard time thinking about. He equally wanted to punish him for his blatant disrespect for the higher powers that be, and to tear at the cosmic red tape and join in the revelry of his rebellious nature.
Dean’s husky voice interrupted the flow of his methodical thought processes, and it was slightly unnerving.
“Cas? You alright? You look like you just ate a tofu burger.”
He squinted at Dean, tried to not notice just how well put together he looks for a human who lived on three hours of sleep a night, which as he is told frequently, isn’t much.
“I’m praying. And I‘m not sure what Tofu is.” Sometimes it was easier to just answer his silly rhetorical questions with an equally silly answer, especially when the scent combination of deep-fried onions and gasoline was so delicately wafting into his nostrils and causing Jimmy’s heart to beat erratically.
“Riiight…okay, I’m going to go over *there* now, while you…er…commune.”
Dean wandered over down to a row of paintings depicting Saints and other religious figures of importance.
Castiel could see him in the corner of his eye, poking and prodding at the pieces like they were cheap velvet pictures of unicorns that were the staple of so many of his shabby motel rooms.
How many of those hotel rooms had the Winchesters stayed at?
He himself had lost count, but during Castiel’s many mission’s to watch over Michael’s vessel, he had been able to study Dean’s habits, and his conquests in those hotel rooms.
The latter was always the most interesting. He’d taken note of how practiced Dean was, how he was able to coax and manipulate a human body like Michelangelo with a paint brush. That ability stirred feelings within Castiel, that he was certain were absent.
Once he’d imagined being on the receiving end of Dean’s affections. He’d imagined being thrown onto the squeaky bed, stripped of his garments until the barest of skin was assaulted with hunt-roughened fingers and an extremely talented tongue. Would Dean be rough? Would he unleash his anger and bitterness against him, and torture him with words and pleasure until he couldn’t take it anymore, and gave into a sinful and selfish completion with his sweat coated body laying limply beneath his?
He had seen tender moments too, when he watched. There were times when even Dean needed to just hold someone, and that seemed most intriguing to Castiel. For someone who was so keen on making sure everyone believed just how strong and invulnerable he was, he had his weak moments, and Castiel wondered at just how tender he would be, given the chance. Gentle maybe, full of soft words and delicate caresses, with strokes that lasted a millennia and a day.
Of course, guilt struck every time he let his mind wander like this, and possibly a little more anger.
He wasn’t supposed to feel anger, but it was a challenge to stay positive to the grand plan when there were so many different forces looking to thwart him.
Castiel felt alone in the process. Yes, Dean was a major shareholder in the process, but he kicked and screamed the entire way, until the very last moment, when things looked the most dire and he was this close to failing…
…and that was when he was just supposed to show up and use his Angel powers to solve everything.
He’d been doing that enough over the centuries. When? Just when, would he get a moment to be with his brothers again, be with his family?
It would never happen. Not like he wanted. There were too many things still at hand to even contemplate that possibility.
Then there was more guilt. Doubt had sunk its unforgiving claws into his vessel’s heart, and he sunk his hand into fists and forced himself not to let it go any further.
Dean’s voice once again rang clear as a bell, waking him momentarily.
“You okay, Cas? You still look….weird.”
He was coming closer, and Castiel visibly shook where he stood. He was not a perfect soldier, he served a Heaven that was God-less and his brothers, his family, were at odds with each other…
He had murdered his brothers. Murdered them. He was a murderer.
His voice was raspier than usual when he spoke, “I need to ask for forgiveness.”
Dean made a face, and it was almost endearing, and he was immediately aware of Jimmy’s penis growing hard, almost unbearably so.
“You didn’t do anything, I’m sure. Besides…anything goes when you’re in different zip codes, you know what I mean?” He laughed just a bit, amused with his own raunchy humor.
Castiel looked hard into Dean’s eyes, and he knew what he had to do to rid himself of this onslaught of alien emotions that clouded his judgment and made him question his character as a soldier of God. Just like an exorcism, he would rid himself of this petty need to experience Dean in the flesh, even if it wasn’t in the way he secretly wanted.
With a force and strength he had sometimes forgotten he had possessed, Castiel gripped Dean tight and walked him towards the side of the church, and pressed him hard up against the stone wall.
Dean’s eyes were wide with rage and inquisition, “What the Hell, Cas? What are you doing? Christ!” Castiel was forcing his body against his, melting his thin frame with Dean’s muscular one.
“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Dean didn’t even have the chance to offer a bitter comeback, before Castiel slammed his mouth onto Dean’s, his tongue plunging forth and seeking to disarm him in the most intimate of ways.
It felt like the world had stopped, that serenity that Castiel had sought so often after the End had begun was here, and now. It was hot and fiery, and explosive, just as he had hoped for. Dean had weakened easily, giving into Castiel, offering as much as he took and he was rewarded with the growing hardness of Dean’s manhood pressing against his own.
Castiel took that moment to loosen his grip and pull away, letting Dean right himself proper on his own two feet, as shaky as he suddenly was.
He closed his eyes and turned from Dean, not wanting to see the kiss swollen lips reddened and eager to continue, and proceeded towards the altar, knowing exactly what he needed to do next.
“Cas! What the hell do you think you’re going to do now?” Dean had regained his senses, and even though Castiel was sure he was game for more, he would just have to accept nothing as a response.
This time, he would justly ask for forgiveness.
Title: Forgive Me
Recipient: spilled_notes
Author: brodeurbunny30
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Summary: Castiel deals with the play of human emotions on his Angelic senses as he prays in church
Author notes: --
He heard the footsteps before he saw the face, and yet Castiel knew exactly who had followed him into the church. The steps were broad and arrogant, especially for being in the House of God.
Castiel didn’t want to take notice, he’d already done enough of that when it came to Dean Winchester.
Life in Jimmy Novak’s body had become difficult of late. Being around humans this much shouldn’t be so hard, and yet it was. He came from a world of decrees and expectations that were beyond human understanding, and Love in Heaven was such a strong constant that other emotions were unnecessary and frowned upon based on what they could encourage within the angels.
Here on Earth, it was difficult to not to let human emotions get the best of him, which was why he was here, again.
Praying.
Castiel felt Dean’s warm hand clap him on the shoulder, he could smell the salt in the sawed off shot-gun that he held in his opposite hand, and though he couldn’t see his face, he knew that he had one eyebrow raised to match the sarcastic quip to follow.
“If God’s MIA, Cas, why are you praying? You should just call his cell phone and leave a voicemail, might be faster.”
Castiel felt the stirrings of anger, and a hint of something he’d been denying and ignoring for some time now. Dean Winchester had an uncanny ability to mock and humiliate what obviously terrified him. Though he’d never admit it, Castiel had seen the minute presence of fear in his blue/green eyes the day he found out what Heaven was pursuing him for.
Now, everything had changed, there was no Heaven to speak of in the traditional sense and they were tracking Archangels like demons for answers to questions they hadn’t thought of yet.
Despite all the evidence, all the events and trauma, Dean still turned a blind eye to the Lord, and scoffed at the seriousness of the situation like he was on just another demon hunt. Truth was, he knew. He knew what was happening, it was just easier to be cynical about it.
It made Castiel want to do things to Dean, things that he had a hard time thinking about. He equally wanted to punish him for his blatant disrespect for the higher powers that be, and to tear at the cosmic red tape and join in the revelry of his rebellious nature.
Dean’s husky voice interrupted the flow of his methodical thought processes, and it was slightly unnerving.
“Cas? You alright? You look like you just ate a tofu burger.”
He squinted at Dean, tried to not notice just how well put together he looks for a human who lived on three hours of sleep a night, which as he is told frequently, isn’t much.
“I’m praying. And I‘m not sure what Tofu is.” Sometimes it was easier to just answer his silly rhetorical questions with an equally silly answer, especially when the scent combination of deep-fried onions and gasoline was so delicately wafting into his nostrils and causing Jimmy’s heart to beat erratically.
“Riiight…okay, I’m going to go over *there* now, while you…er…commune.”
Dean wandered over down to a row of paintings depicting Saints and other religious figures of importance.
Castiel could see him in the corner of his eye, poking and prodding at the pieces like they were cheap velvet pictures of unicorns that were the staple of so many of his shabby motel rooms.
How many of those hotel rooms had the Winchesters stayed at?
He himself had lost count, but during Castiel’s many mission’s to watch over Michael’s vessel, he had been able to study Dean’s habits, and his conquests in those hotel rooms.
The latter was always the most interesting. He’d taken note of how practiced Dean was, how he was able to coax and manipulate a human body like Michelangelo with a paint brush. That ability stirred feelings within Castiel, that he was certain were absent.
Once he’d imagined being on the receiving end of Dean’s affections. He’d imagined being thrown onto the squeaky bed, stripped of his garments until the barest of skin was assaulted with hunt-roughened fingers and an extremely talented tongue. Would Dean be rough? Would he unleash his anger and bitterness against him, and torture him with words and pleasure until he couldn’t take it anymore, and gave into a sinful and selfish completion with his sweat coated body laying limply beneath his?
He had seen tender moments too, when he watched. There were times when even Dean needed to just hold someone, and that seemed most intriguing to Castiel. For someone who was so keen on making sure everyone believed just how strong and invulnerable he was, he had his weak moments, and Castiel wondered at just how tender he would be, given the chance. Gentle maybe, full of soft words and delicate caresses, with strokes that lasted a millennia and a day.
Of course, guilt struck every time he let his mind wander like this, and possibly a little more anger.
He wasn’t supposed to feel anger, but it was a challenge to stay positive to the grand plan when there were so many different forces looking to thwart him.
Castiel felt alone in the process. Yes, Dean was a major shareholder in the process, but he kicked and screamed the entire way, until the very last moment, when things looked the most dire and he was this close to failing…
…and that was when he was just supposed to show up and use his Angel powers to solve everything.
He’d been doing that enough over the centuries. When? Just when, would he get a moment to be with his brothers again, be with his family?
It would never happen. Not like he wanted. There were too many things still at hand to even contemplate that possibility.
Then there was more guilt. Doubt had sunk its unforgiving claws into his vessel’s heart, and he sunk his hand into fists and forced himself not to let it go any further.
Dean’s voice once again rang clear as a bell, waking him momentarily.
“You okay, Cas? You still look….weird.”
He was coming closer, and Castiel visibly shook where he stood. He was not a perfect soldier, he served a Heaven that was God-less and his brothers, his family, were at odds with each other…
He had murdered his brothers. Murdered them. He was a murderer.
His voice was raspier than usual when he spoke, “I need to ask for forgiveness.”
Dean made a face, and it was almost endearing, and he was immediately aware of Jimmy’s penis growing hard, almost unbearably so.
“You didn’t do anything, I’m sure. Besides…anything goes when you’re in different zip codes, you know what I mean?” He laughed just a bit, amused with his own raunchy humor.
Castiel looked hard into Dean’s eyes, and he knew what he had to do to rid himself of this onslaught of alien emotions that clouded his judgment and made him question his character as a soldier of God. Just like an exorcism, he would rid himself of this petty need to experience Dean in the flesh, even if it wasn’t in the way he secretly wanted.
With a force and strength he had sometimes forgotten he had possessed, Castiel gripped Dean tight and walked him towards the side of the church, and pressed him hard up against the stone wall.
Dean’s eyes were wide with rage and inquisition, “What the Hell, Cas? What are you doing? Christ!” Castiel was forcing his body against his, melting his thin frame with Dean’s muscular one.
“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Dean didn’t even have the chance to offer a bitter comeback, before Castiel slammed his mouth onto Dean’s, his tongue plunging forth and seeking to disarm him in the most intimate of ways.
It felt like the world had stopped, that serenity that Castiel had sought so often after the End had begun was here, and now. It was hot and fiery, and explosive, just as he had hoped for. Dean had weakened easily, giving into Castiel, offering as much as he took and he was rewarded with the growing hardness of Dean’s manhood pressing against his own.
Castiel took that moment to loosen his grip and pull away, letting Dean right himself proper on his own two feet, as shaky as he suddenly was.
He closed his eyes and turned from Dean, not wanting to see the kiss swollen lips reddened and eager to continue, and proceeded towards the altar, knowing exactly what he needed to do next.
“Cas! What the hell do you think you’re going to do now?” Dean had regained his senses, and even though Castiel was sure he was game for more, he would just have to accept nothing as a response.
This time, he would justly ask for forgiveness.