SPN Fic: Station Break (Dean/Castiel, R)
Title: Station Break
Author: dotfic
Rating/paring: R, Dean/Castiel
W/C: ~1,000
a/n: Set early Season 5. Written for medie, who asked for Dean/Castiel, Touched By An Angel (because this joke must be made and made quite filthy).
Dean couldn't sleep, and wound up flipping channels, the television the only light in the motel room, sending out splashes of orange and blue and green. The patches of color slid over the hills and valleys Castiel's body formed as he lay stretched out next to Dean under the pilled blue blanket that had seen one too many washings. Dean was still pretty sure angels didn't actually need to sleep, not like this, but Castiel had gotten into the habit, not long after the first time Sam slapped his credit card down on a motel check-in desk and asked for two adjoining rooms. An eyeroll and a keep it down you guys, okay? Dean took as Sam-speak for approval.
Really friggin' funny how Dean was the one sitting up wakeful, his back against the headboard, watching a rerun of a show he'd never really liked that much, while the one who didn't actually need shut-eye to stay functional was seemingly out for the night, chest rising and falling steadily. Dean leaned over, just a little, catching the way the colors played over Castiel's face and closed eyelids. He looked the least uncanny asleep, more like the man whose soul had vacated the body Castiel wore, leaving him to rattle around in his form alone. The cord of Dean's amulet was a dark line against Castiel's neck, the hair at his forehead sticking straight up. One of these days Dean was going to use his camera phone and get himself some blackmail material.
Castiel's body radiated too much heat. Mixed with the more human scents of soap and skin, Dean picked up on the one that always made him think of stone churches and candles just burned out and silence.
"You're restless," Castiel muttered without opening his eyes, and Dean immediately snapped his gaze back towards the TV screen, where Roma Downey was looking very pretty and glowy.
"Nah. I'm fine, just..." Dean fingered the buttons on the remote. His thoughts couldn't seem to stop turning over, too much worry with Lucifer out there, Michael an idea tearing at the corners of Dean's mind, and not enough rest.
Castiel opened his eyes and sat up so his shoulder tucked against Dean's. He was wearing only his white undershirt and boxers. His gaze went to the TV for a few minutes before he frowned. "This show...it's about angels?"
"Yeah."
They watched for a while until the episode went to a commercial break, an ad for how to make the Internet run faster on your home computer, and Dean hit the mute button.
"They don't act very much like any angels I have known."
Dean let out a short laugh. "No, I kind of figured."
"For one thing, they're too..."
"Nice?" Dean finished.
Castiel's eyes narrowed, giving the impression of an annoyed cat. Then a glint of amusement passed over his features, revealed and then hidden so quickly Dean would've missed it if he hadn't learned how to watch for it.
"I'm nice," Castiel said, his hand sliding under Dean's t-shirt, palm moving along his stomach, making the muscles twitch.
Dean almost dropped the remote. "Cas, you are many things, but nice isn't the word I'd use for you."
"What, then?" Castiel said, fingers going still.
Good, Dean thought, but that didn't feel right -- any more than he could describe himself or Sam as good. The word safe jumped into Dean's mind, but that was wrong, massively wrong, too, although since it was the middle of the night and he was tired, he could concede that safer wasn't way off the mark; it did feel better having Castiel around, watching his and Sam's backs.
"You're...okay, I guess," he said, keeping his voice steady as Cas put his mouth against Dean's neck.
Castiel's hand travelled lower, beneath the waistband of Dean's sweatpants, and this time Dean let the remote fall to the mattress. He dug his fingers into Castiel's hair, pulling him in close to kiss him. The amulet's sharp points pressed against Dean's chest, through layers of cotton. It felt weird not having it around his neck, weirder still seeing it hanging around Castiel's, but knowing Castiel was wearing it, not just keeping it tucked into a pocket, made Dean feel better. Like it wasn't only a tool.
"I'm okay?" Cas's hand went even lower.
The kiss broke. "You're...um..." Dean's hips jerked, and Castiel smiled one of his rare smiles, this one with a hint of smugness. Damn him.
Sneaky, Dean thought. Protective.
"So...what is this TV show called?" Cas's breath was warm against Dean's ear.
Dean was pretty sure Castiel already knew, since at the end of the commercial break, the station had announced the title. Castiel quickened the movement of his hand, and Dean put his fingers against his jaw, pulling his head down and kissing him again, harder, tongue pushing into his mouth. He fumbled for the remote and hit the off button, sending the room into a darkness so sudden Dean's vision went to a cloud of black.
Everything was just hands and the brush of stubble and legs curled around each other, breaths going faster as Dean tugged at Castiel's boxers, fingers seeking the heat of the skin beneath. Castiel's hip bones were sharp under Dean's hands.
Fierce, Dean thought.
His eyesight adjusted, the soft illumination of neon-blue from the motel sign coating the room.
"Say it." The edge in Castiel's voice was playful, and there was a catch in it, as if he couldn't get his breath, but it still made the hair on the back of Dean's arms go up, it sounded close enough to his battle-voice.
"Fine. Touched ..." -- Jesus H. Christ, this was so not fair, not with Castiel doing that with his tongue, and that with his fingers -- "By an Angel. You jackass." Dean gripped his biceps and shoved, flipping them so he had Castiel pinned beneath him. "Happy now?"
In the blue-tinted darkness, Castiel looked up at him. His eyes brightened, and Dean gave up trying to find words.
~end
Author: dotfic
Rating/paring: R, Dean/Castiel
W/C: ~1,000
a/n: Set early Season 5. Written for medie, who asked for Dean/Castiel, Touched By An Angel (because this joke must be made and made quite filthy).
Dean couldn't sleep, and wound up flipping channels, the television the only light in the motel room, sending out splashes of orange and blue and green. The patches of color slid over the hills and valleys Castiel's body formed as he lay stretched out next to Dean under the pilled blue blanket that had seen one too many washings. Dean was still pretty sure angels didn't actually need to sleep, not like this, but Castiel had gotten into the habit, not long after the first time Sam slapped his credit card down on a motel check-in desk and asked for two adjoining rooms. An eyeroll and a keep it down you guys, okay? Dean took as Sam-speak for approval.
Really friggin' funny how Dean was the one sitting up wakeful, his back against the headboard, watching a rerun of a show he'd never really liked that much, while the one who didn't actually need shut-eye to stay functional was seemingly out for the night, chest rising and falling steadily. Dean leaned over, just a little, catching the way the colors played over Castiel's face and closed eyelids. He looked the least uncanny asleep, more like the man whose soul had vacated the body Castiel wore, leaving him to rattle around in his form alone. The cord of Dean's amulet was a dark line against Castiel's neck, the hair at his forehead sticking straight up. One of these days Dean was going to use his camera phone and get himself some blackmail material.
Castiel's body radiated too much heat. Mixed with the more human scents of soap and skin, Dean picked up on the one that always made him think of stone churches and candles just burned out and silence.
"You're restless," Castiel muttered without opening his eyes, and Dean immediately snapped his gaze back towards the TV screen, where Roma Downey was looking very pretty and glowy.
"Nah. I'm fine, just..." Dean fingered the buttons on the remote. His thoughts couldn't seem to stop turning over, too much worry with Lucifer out there, Michael an idea tearing at the corners of Dean's mind, and not enough rest.
Castiel opened his eyes and sat up so his shoulder tucked against Dean's. He was wearing only his white undershirt and boxers. His gaze went to the TV for a few minutes before he frowned. "This show...it's about angels?"
"Yeah."
They watched for a while until the episode went to a commercial break, an ad for how to make the Internet run faster on your home computer, and Dean hit the mute button.
"They don't act very much like any angels I have known."
Dean let out a short laugh. "No, I kind of figured."
"For one thing, they're too..."
"Nice?" Dean finished.
Castiel's eyes narrowed, giving the impression of an annoyed cat. Then a glint of amusement passed over his features, revealed and then hidden so quickly Dean would've missed it if he hadn't learned how to watch for it.
"I'm nice," Castiel said, his hand sliding under Dean's t-shirt, palm moving along his stomach, making the muscles twitch.
Dean almost dropped the remote. "Cas, you are many things, but nice isn't the word I'd use for you."
"What, then?" Castiel said, fingers going still.
Good, Dean thought, but that didn't feel right -- any more than he could describe himself or Sam as good. The word safe jumped into Dean's mind, but that was wrong, massively wrong, too, although since it was the middle of the night and he was tired, he could concede that safer wasn't way off the mark; it did feel better having Castiel around, watching his and Sam's backs.
"You're...okay, I guess," he said, keeping his voice steady as Cas put his mouth against Dean's neck.
Castiel's hand travelled lower, beneath the waistband of Dean's sweatpants, and this time Dean let the remote fall to the mattress. He dug his fingers into Castiel's hair, pulling him in close to kiss him. The amulet's sharp points pressed against Dean's chest, through layers of cotton. It felt weird not having it around his neck, weirder still seeing it hanging around Castiel's, but knowing Castiel was wearing it, not just keeping it tucked into a pocket, made Dean feel better. Like it wasn't only a tool.
"I'm okay?" Cas's hand went even lower.
The kiss broke. "You're...um..." Dean's hips jerked, and Castiel smiled one of his rare smiles, this one with a hint of smugness. Damn him.
Sneaky, Dean thought. Protective.
"So...what is this TV show called?" Cas's breath was warm against Dean's ear.
Dean was pretty sure Castiel already knew, since at the end of the commercial break, the station had announced the title. Castiel quickened the movement of his hand, and Dean put his fingers against his jaw, pulling his head down and kissing him again, harder, tongue pushing into his mouth. He fumbled for the remote and hit the off button, sending the room into a darkness so sudden Dean's vision went to a cloud of black.
Everything was just hands and the brush of stubble and legs curled around each other, breaths going faster as Dean tugged at Castiel's boxers, fingers seeking the heat of the skin beneath. Castiel's hip bones were sharp under Dean's hands.
Fierce, Dean thought.
His eyesight adjusted, the soft illumination of neon-blue from the motel sign coating the room.
"Say it." The edge in Castiel's voice was playful, and there was a catch in it, as if he couldn't get his breath, but it still made the hair on the back of Dean's arms go up, it sounded close enough to his battle-voice.
"Fine. Touched ..." -- Jesus H. Christ, this was so not fair, not with Castiel doing that with his tongue, and that with his fingers -- "By an Angel. You jackass." Dean gripped his biceps and shoved, flipping them so he had Castiel pinned beneath him. "Happy now?"
In the blue-tinted darkness, Castiel looked up at him. His eyes brightened, and Dean gave up trying to find words.
~end