Hegemonies, and Other Heavenly Problems (Dean/Castiel, NC-17)
Title: Hegemonies, and Other Heavenly Problems
Author: exmanhater
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: all of season five
Warnings: none
Word count: 3,300
Summary: Castiel has an existential crisis involving his management style, Dean is very supportive, and Sam provides the literature (or the one where Dean keeps trying to solve problems with his mouth).
A/N: Set in the future of the Our Lavish Post-Apocalyptic Lifestyle universe, but can easily be read as an established relationship oneshot if you prefer. Also, contrary to all evidence, I am not currently in a grad program - but my partner is. All of Sam's classes and various theories were taken from her experiences (with permission).
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this story, and will not profit from it
Castiel appears in the middle of the living room, sits heavily and lets out a sigh. Dean feels scarily like someone’s girlfriend when his first instinct is to give Cas a hug and ask about his day. His second instinct is to make sure Sam never hears him use the girlfriend simile, because getting another lecture about outdated gender roles and misogyny, and how being gay now doesn’t give him a pass on perpetuating oppression, is the last thing he wants. In the end, Dean just hands Cas a cold beer and offers him a blowjob.
Hey, everybody wins in that scenario.
Whatever’s wrong must be pretty serious, though, because Cas doesn’t even twitch, just sighs again and stares blankly at a point over Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean,” he says eventually, “I have become The Man.”
“Uh, what?” says Dean. He must have misunderstood.
“The establishment, the corrupt upper management of a systemically evil capitalist bureaucracy.”
Dean thinks, wildly, that he must somehow be asleep, not that being asleep necessarily means anything. Cas could just as easily be having an existential crisis in Dean’s head instead of in the real world. Then he remembers the last class Sam took (Dissident Somethings of Something Excluded by the Dominant Public Sphere and its Blah Blah Whatever the Fuck) and how interested Castiel had been in the required reading.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, with feeling.
Cas frowns. “This is a serious problem. God didn’t leave me to look after things just so I could recreate Zachariah and Michael’s hegemony.”
“Okay,” says Dean, because while he’d like to get Sam for this one, since it’s Sam’s fucking fault, it’s obviously one of those boyfriend duties Sam lectures him about. “First, if you want me to take this seriously, you cannot say shit like hegemony.”
Cas glares harder, but nods in agreement.
“Good. Second, you’re nothing like those guys. You’re not a dick, for starters.”
Cas slumps and jabs his hands into his pockets. “Then why do I feel like one?” he asks.
Dean kneels in front of Cas’s chair and puts his hands on Cas’s thighs. “Who was it who supported equal representation in the Archangel council for all the different classes of angel? It wasn’t fucking Zachariah, okay?”
Cas avoids eye contact and shrugs. “What good does it do them? All the angels willing to speak out for new ways of doing things are always outnumbered by the angels who support the status quo. The only changes I’ve been able to make were because I didn’t let anyone argue with my decisions at first. Now I am ineffectual.”
“Well, yeah,” Dean says, fishing wildly for a rebuttal. “But if you just kept deciding on new ways of doing things and made them all fall in line, you really would be as bad as Michael. You’re giving them a chance to figure things out for themselves.”
“Like God, you mean,” Cas says. “I did not particularly like God’s way of allowing me to choose my own path. It led to pain and suffering for many people before the end.”
Okay, Dean doesn’t have a choice, now. He lets the heat he always feels when Cas is around show in his eyes and moves his hands further up Cas’s legs. When he has Cas’s full attention, he swallows quickly and says, “it brought us here, didn’t it?”
Cas narrows his eyes and focuses on Dean’s mouth. “You’re trying to distract me,” he says absently.
Dean grins. “Yeah? It’s working, too.” He reaches up to encourage the swell of Cas’s cock starting to push against the fabric of his pants. Cas gives in easily, sitting back with a groan and letting Dean open his fly and pull out his almost full erection. Dean wastes no time in sucking the head into his mouth, flying high on the sounds Cas is making above him.
He holds Cas down and does all the work, making sure to use lots of tongue, stroking Cas with one hand to make up for the fact that he can’t deep throat yet. Cas stares, eyes dark and hungry, and lets Dean have his way at first. Before long, though, Dean is opening his own pants and jacking himself desperately with his free hand while Cas takes over and slides in and out of his mouth, touching his head carefully and directing his movement. The loss of control almost always pushes Dean over the edge, which Cas knows well by now, the bastard.
“You’re going to come like this, aren’t you?” Cas asks, but it’s not a question. “Come from being fucked like this?”
Dean squirms in embarrassment and arousal, relaxes his throat more than he’s ever managed before, and Cas pushes in further.
"Give me your hand," Cas says, and pulls Dean's hand from his cock and licks two fingers into his mouth, getting them wet. He pushes the hand away. "You know where to put those," he growls, and Dean shudders with anticipation. He reaches down between his legs, Cas watching intently, and touches his saliva-sticky fingers to his hole. Cas stutters in his mouth, a pulse of precome giving away his excitement. Dean grins as much as he can, and then slips both fingers inside, relishing the stretch and slight burn.
"Yes," Cas says, "You love that, don't you?" He grips Dean's hair and pulls him closer, cock stretching Dean's mouth even wider.
It’s perfect and too much, filling him up just right, and Dean tumbles into an orgasm just minutes later, one hand working his dick through the aftershocks and the other cupping his balls, two fingers inside and pressing against his prostate, moaning around Cas’s cock in his mouth. Cas doesn’t stop, and Dean’s not even helping at all anymore, he’s too wrung out to object to the pace and he wouldn’t want to anyway.
“Dean,” Cas says roughly, and comes in pulses down Dean’s throat. Dean swallows it all and starts participating again, cleaning up the come that trickles out of his mouth onto Cas and licking until he’s pushed away gently.
Cas melts into his seat, breathing loudly. He doesn’t bring up the subject of hegemonies again.
And that, Dean thinks with justified smugness as he leans back and wipes a hand over his mouth, grimacing at the mess he left on the carpet, is how you take your boyfriend’s mind off his work-related problems.
***
Turns out it’s not actually that easy. Three days after what Dean considers to be his best blowjob to date, he calls Cas to see if he wants to come with Dean and Sam on a quick weekend job they found. He leaves a message, as usual, and doesn’t think anything about it again until he realizes it’s Friday afternoon, he hasn’t heard from Cas in over five days, and if they want to make it back in time for Sam’s Monday class, they have to leave now.
He tries to shrug off Cas’s silence and concentrate on the job. Castiel has more than proven that he can take care of himself (and most anyone else) without breaking a sweat, but Dean still worries. He thinks it’s probably coded into his DNA.
Sam has him figured out early on during their drive out to the tiny coastal town with a possible gnome infestation.
“Trouble in gay paradise?” he asks.
Dean smacks him lightly out of habit. “Just haven’t heard from Cas in a few days,” he says gruffly. He doesn’t want to talk about it. “He’s busy. Not a big deal.”
Sam, bless his giant forehead, takes the goddamn hint for once and doesn’t press the issue. Dean focuses on the task at hand for the rest of the weekend, and if he checks his cell phone obsessively for missed calls, well, at least he does it pretty sneakily.
Back at home, the week slowly goes by, and when Wednesday rolls around with no word from Cas, Dean starts to get mad. It isn’t asking too much for a text message or something, is it? Just a “hey, not dead and/or imprisoned!” would work, he’s not picky.
Castiel shows up that night and doesn’t seem aware of the fact that he’s been in radio silence for over a week. He pops into the living room, where Dean is absolutely not watching Oprah reruns on the couch in his underwear, and sits down next to Dean with despair.
“I tried everything,” he says glumly. “Nothing’s going to change without me becoming a dictator.”
Dean tries not to let his disgruntlement show. Cas is seriously still on this heavenly democracy trip?
“So that’s why you’ve been AWOL this whole week?” he asks, perfectly calm, fuck you very much. “Playing angelic freedom crusader?”
Cas looks at Dean as if he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone in the room. “A week?” he asks in astonishment. “I spent a whole week of human time making Raphael read graduate theses on political systems and I didn’t even accomplish anything?”
Dean tries to strangle his laugh in his throat - Cas doesn’t look like he can take any more abuse - but the thought of Raphael sitting in a musty college library reading up on human governments is too much to contemplate and he snorts loudly, all frustration with Cas’s absence gone.
“You - you made him read graduate theses?” he says, in between wheezes of laughter.
Cas glares, mouth set in what would be a pout on anyone else. On him it’s more like a warning sign to evacuate the area before there’s an explosion. “Not just Raphael, although I made him read the most. I thought if the traditionalists could understand the harmful effects of a stagnant political system that pools all the power into the hands of a small homogenous group, they might be more open to other ideas.”
“Didn’t go like you wanted it to, huh?”
Cas slumps down, head against the back of the couch. “I thought I had carefully chosen all the texts available, but somehow Raphael got a hold of a pamphlet promoting Calvinism as a valid form of government, and now he's worse than ever.”
Dean reaches for a minute. “Those are the dudes who think everything’s predestined and no one can change anything because everything is already exactly how it’s supposed to be or it wouldn't be that way in the first place, right?”
Cas nods, closing his eyes. “You don’t even want to know how the pamphlet translated that into government. Raphael was one of the angels who promoted Calvinism the first time around, but this particular interpretation was new to him.” He looks at Dean. "I don't know what to try next. Maybe I should give up."
Cas sounds so depressed that Dean wishes he could promise a trip to the arcade or another easy fix, like he used to do with Sam when they were kids, stuck in the same motel room for weeks with nothing to do. But his best distraction technique for dealing with Castiel has already failed to work as a long term solution, and what else is he qualified to suggest?
Dean tugs Cas over until they're pressed up against each other, Dean's arm around Cas's shoulder (which in no way resembles cuddling, Dean viciously tells his inner Sam), and starts talking out of his ass.
"That's the thing about free will, though, right?" he says. "People can have all kinds of shitty ideas and you can't keep them from disagreeing with you or you're just as bad as a tyrant. Doesn't matter if you're right if you're still forcing people to think like you."
"Yes," Cas replies, "but angels are not people, and trying to get an angel to express an opinion that has not been in their minds from the beginning of time is proving to be almost impossible, and I can't quite remember why I thought it was so important in the first place."
"Because God basically told all the angels to grow the fuck up and follow your example, that's why," Dean says, a proud expression on his face. "You're the new Michael, only not a douchebag."
Cas's gloom gets a little lighter, even as he throws Dean a smirk that says he's only tolerating Dean's nonsense because of his cute face. Whatever, Cas can insinuate as much as he wants. Dean knows better.
"You have all of eternity to get this done, right?" Dean continues. "You can't expect them all to be as awesome as you and get it right away. Give yourself longer than a week before you start thinking you're a failure."
Cas frowns. "It's been more than two years, though, since things first changed in heaven."
"Yeah, but angels are like old people, it takes them forever to let go of their ways and learn something new. Seriously, don't worry about it until it's been five years." Dean can tell Cas wants to yell at him for disparaging the elderly, so he pulls an excellent move (in his experienced opinion) and straddles Cas on the couch before Cas can protest or respond. Cas can't resist kissing, and Dean uses that knowledge like a weapon.
Cas gives in for a while, tugging Dean firmly down onto his lap and kissing back with fervor, hands roaming over Dean's naked spine and hips. Then he pulls away and gives Dean the evil eye.
"What?" Dean asks innocently.
"I'm letting it go for now because your opinion made sense, not because you keep trying to distract me with your mouth," Cas says firmly. "I'm not having sex with you unless you understand that."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Sure, I got it. Distraction techniques are unnecessary," he says, licking up Cas's neck slowly. "But you have to admit, they are still fun."
After an hour of really excellent couch sex, Castiel is forced to agree with him.
***
For a while, it seems like Cas is dealing with his "being in charge of everything" angst pretty well (that means mostly: "where Dean doesn't have to listen to it"). Then Sam gets involved. Of fucking course.
Dean gets home one evening to find them deep in conversation, in the kitchen of all places.
“None of them had even read The Communist Manifesto?” Sam is saying incredulously.
“Angels have never needed to know how to do anything but obey orders before now,” Cas replies, shaking his head. "And even if any of them were inclined to study political science, I doubt that Marx would have been their first choice. He's not hierarchical enough."
"Oh my god," Dean complains, putting the six-pack he'd picked up on the way home from work into the fridge. "Sam, don't encourage him!"
Sam and Cas both turn and give Dean identical bitchy faces. He struggles to not find it incredibly adorable.
"This has serious repercussions, Dean," Sam lectures. "The future of heaven is at stake."
"Oh, yeah?" Dean replies. "Right now your future is at stake. I still haven't forgiven you for letting him read that stupid course packet with all the dissident voices nonsense."
Sam smirks. "That reminds me, Cas, I brought back a copy of that book you asked for yesterday."
Cas brightens as Sam pulls a book the size of Dean's head from his bag and lays it on the table. Dean cranes his neck to read the title, something like On Historical and Political Knowing, which is as douchy of a title as he would've expected. He sits down at the table to supervise what's sure to be a disaster, which he'll end up being blamed for, somehow.
"Thank you," Cas tells Sam, picking up the book and opening the cover. "This is the text for next week's assignment."
"Assignment?" Dean asks. "What, you're giving out angelic homework regularly now?"
"Sam suggested it," Cas replies, and Sam sticks his tongue out at Dean. "Everyone reads the same book or article each week, and then writes a paper discussing it, and shares the paper with everyone else."
"I figured it might jumpstart some real conversation," Sam says. "Then maybe Cas can get some of them to stop being such assholes about the more archaic rules he wants to phase out."
Dean figures it's not actually that bad of an idea. "As long as I don't have to read any of it," he mutters, getting up to call out for dinner. Sam and Cas barely notice, too caught up in planning Cas's little angel school.
Dean supposes he should’ve just handed this off to Sam at the beginning, and he spends the evening trying to shrug off vague feelings of uselessness. When he and Cas say goodnight to Sam and stumble into Dean’s bedroom, Cas calls him on it.
“Sam’s idea may have been very helpful,” Cas begins, “but you are helpful in your own way, too.”
Dean leers. “Yeah, I know what I’m good for,” he says. As a joke, it falls flat.
Cas grabs his shoulder and swings him around to lean against the closed bedroom door. “You are everything, Dean, and you should know that,” he says fiercely.
The tiny knot of apprehension in Dean’s throat smoothes away immediately, and he coughs to hide his far too mushy reaction.
“I would not be here if not for you,” Cas continues. “I would not even have a heaven to worry about or the knowledge that this is the right thing to do.”
Dean relaxes against Cas, his hands coming up to play with Cas’s waistband. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “I do know that.”
“Good.” Cas lets the intensity in his eyes change into arousal, and Dean meets him halfway for a long, deep kiss as they move toward the bed.
As much as the finality of his relationship with Cas scares him sometimes, he wouldn’t give it up for anything.
***
Cas spends more time in heaven than usual during the next couple of months, getting his new program into place. Dean uses the extra alone time to build up an impressive knowledge of Dr Sexy trivia (well, he also takes a few solo hunting trips), whenever Sam's not there to tease him about it.
Cas talks about it constantly, which Dean doesn’t really mind all that much, since the stories Cas tells usually feature Raphael getting schooled in increasingly hilarious ways. Progress has been slow, but Cas is optimistic about the future, and much happier because of it. Dean does draw the line at some things, however.
“I am not touching you until you put that essay down,” Dean says.
“I’m almost done,” Cas replies, not looking away from the paper he’s holding as he lounges on the bed on his side, distractingly naked. “Just grope me for a while, I don’t mind.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds really hot. It’s not my fault you forgot to finish the reading for this week,” he says from his position on the bed, kneeling behind Cas. He pokes Cas’s hip, hard. “I shouldn’t be punished for something I didn’t do.”
Cas sighs melodramatically (it still sometimes surprises Dean when he does that) and looks over his shoulder at Dean.
“Tell you what,” Cas says with a devious little smile. “If you can convince me to postpone my reading using your mouth and nothing else, and I don’t mean with words, then I’ll put it away and you can fuck me.”
Dean almost laughs, but hearing Cas say things like “fuck me” is still an instant turn on, and it comes out more like a groan. Cas goes back to reading the paper.
“You can start any time,” he says.
“God, you’re annoying,” Dean says fondly, and scoots down to do his best.
Ten minutes of judicious rimming with a side order of sucking later, Dean smirks triumphantly as Cas moans and drops the paper to the floor.
Dean’s mouth is clearly awesome.
The end.
next story
Author: exmanhater
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: all of season five
Warnings: none
Word count: 3,300
Summary: Castiel has an existential crisis involving his management style, Dean is very supportive, and Sam provides the literature (or the one where Dean keeps trying to solve problems with his mouth).
A/N: Set in the future of the Our Lavish Post-Apocalyptic Lifestyle universe, but can easily be read as an established relationship oneshot if you prefer. Also, contrary to all evidence, I am not currently in a grad program - but my partner is. All of Sam's classes and various theories were taken from her experiences (with permission).
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this story, and will not profit from it
Castiel appears in the middle of the living room, sits heavily and lets out a sigh. Dean feels scarily like someone’s girlfriend when his first instinct is to give Cas a hug and ask about his day. His second instinct is to make sure Sam never hears him use the girlfriend simile, because getting another lecture about outdated gender roles and misogyny, and how being gay now doesn’t give him a pass on perpetuating oppression, is the last thing he wants. In the end, Dean just hands Cas a cold beer and offers him a blowjob.
Hey, everybody wins in that scenario.
Whatever’s wrong must be pretty serious, though, because Cas doesn’t even twitch, just sighs again and stares blankly at a point over Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean,” he says eventually, “I have become The Man.”
“Uh, what?” says Dean. He must have misunderstood.
“The establishment, the corrupt upper management of a systemically evil capitalist bureaucracy.”
Dean thinks, wildly, that he must somehow be asleep, not that being asleep necessarily means anything. Cas could just as easily be having an existential crisis in Dean’s head instead of in the real world. Then he remembers the last class Sam took (Dissident Somethings of Something Excluded by the Dominant Public Sphere and its Blah Blah Whatever the Fuck) and how interested Castiel had been in the required reading.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, with feeling.
Cas frowns. “This is a serious problem. God didn’t leave me to look after things just so I could recreate Zachariah and Michael’s hegemony.”
“Okay,” says Dean, because while he’d like to get Sam for this one, since it’s Sam’s fucking fault, it’s obviously one of those boyfriend duties Sam lectures him about. “First, if you want me to take this seriously, you cannot say shit like hegemony.”
Cas glares harder, but nods in agreement.
“Good. Second, you’re nothing like those guys. You’re not a dick, for starters.”
Cas slumps and jabs his hands into his pockets. “Then why do I feel like one?” he asks.
Dean kneels in front of Cas’s chair and puts his hands on Cas’s thighs. “Who was it who supported equal representation in the Archangel council for all the different classes of angel? It wasn’t fucking Zachariah, okay?”
Cas avoids eye contact and shrugs. “What good does it do them? All the angels willing to speak out for new ways of doing things are always outnumbered by the angels who support the status quo. The only changes I’ve been able to make were because I didn’t let anyone argue with my decisions at first. Now I am ineffectual.”
“Well, yeah,” Dean says, fishing wildly for a rebuttal. “But if you just kept deciding on new ways of doing things and made them all fall in line, you really would be as bad as Michael. You’re giving them a chance to figure things out for themselves.”
“Like God, you mean,” Cas says. “I did not particularly like God’s way of allowing me to choose my own path. It led to pain and suffering for many people before the end.”
Okay, Dean doesn’t have a choice, now. He lets the heat he always feels when Cas is around show in his eyes and moves his hands further up Cas’s legs. When he has Cas’s full attention, he swallows quickly and says, “it brought us here, didn’t it?”
Cas narrows his eyes and focuses on Dean’s mouth. “You’re trying to distract me,” he says absently.
Dean grins. “Yeah? It’s working, too.” He reaches up to encourage the swell of Cas’s cock starting to push against the fabric of his pants. Cas gives in easily, sitting back with a groan and letting Dean open his fly and pull out his almost full erection. Dean wastes no time in sucking the head into his mouth, flying high on the sounds Cas is making above him.
He holds Cas down and does all the work, making sure to use lots of tongue, stroking Cas with one hand to make up for the fact that he can’t deep throat yet. Cas stares, eyes dark and hungry, and lets Dean have his way at first. Before long, though, Dean is opening his own pants and jacking himself desperately with his free hand while Cas takes over and slides in and out of his mouth, touching his head carefully and directing his movement. The loss of control almost always pushes Dean over the edge, which Cas knows well by now, the bastard.
“You’re going to come like this, aren’t you?” Cas asks, but it’s not a question. “Come from being fucked like this?”
Dean squirms in embarrassment and arousal, relaxes his throat more than he’s ever managed before, and Cas pushes in further.
"Give me your hand," Cas says, and pulls Dean's hand from his cock and licks two fingers into his mouth, getting them wet. He pushes the hand away. "You know where to put those," he growls, and Dean shudders with anticipation. He reaches down between his legs, Cas watching intently, and touches his saliva-sticky fingers to his hole. Cas stutters in his mouth, a pulse of precome giving away his excitement. Dean grins as much as he can, and then slips both fingers inside, relishing the stretch and slight burn.
"Yes," Cas says, "You love that, don't you?" He grips Dean's hair and pulls him closer, cock stretching Dean's mouth even wider.
It’s perfect and too much, filling him up just right, and Dean tumbles into an orgasm just minutes later, one hand working his dick through the aftershocks and the other cupping his balls, two fingers inside and pressing against his prostate, moaning around Cas’s cock in his mouth. Cas doesn’t stop, and Dean’s not even helping at all anymore, he’s too wrung out to object to the pace and he wouldn’t want to anyway.
“Dean,” Cas says roughly, and comes in pulses down Dean’s throat. Dean swallows it all and starts participating again, cleaning up the come that trickles out of his mouth onto Cas and licking until he’s pushed away gently.
Cas melts into his seat, breathing loudly. He doesn’t bring up the subject of hegemonies again.
And that, Dean thinks with justified smugness as he leans back and wipes a hand over his mouth, grimacing at the mess he left on the carpet, is how you take your boyfriend’s mind off his work-related problems.
***
Turns out it’s not actually that easy. Three days after what Dean considers to be his best blowjob to date, he calls Cas to see if he wants to come with Dean and Sam on a quick weekend job they found. He leaves a message, as usual, and doesn’t think anything about it again until he realizes it’s Friday afternoon, he hasn’t heard from Cas in over five days, and if they want to make it back in time for Sam’s Monday class, they have to leave now.
He tries to shrug off Cas’s silence and concentrate on the job. Castiel has more than proven that he can take care of himself (and most anyone else) without breaking a sweat, but Dean still worries. He thinks it’s probably coded into his DNA.
Sam has him figured out early on during their drive out to the tiny coastal town with a possible gnome infestation.
“Trouble in gay paradise?” he asks.
Dean smacks him lightly out of habit. “Just haven’t heard from Cas in a few days,” he says gruffly. He doesn’t want to talk about it. “He’s busy. Not a big deal.”
Sam, bless his giant forehead, takes the goddamn hint for once and doesn’t press the issue. Dean focuses on the task at hand for the rest of the weekend, and if he checks his cell phone obsessively for missed calls, well, at least he does it pretty sneakily.
Back at home, the week slowly goes by, and when Wednesday rolls around with no word from Cas, Dean starts to get mad. It isn’t asking too much for a text message or something, is it? Just a “hey, not dead and/or imprisoned!” would work, he’s not picky.
Castiel shows up that night and doesn’t seem aware of the fact that he’s been in radio silence for over a week. He pops into the living room, where Dean is absolutely not watching Oprah reruns on the couch in his underwear, and sits down next to Dean with despair.
“I tried everything,” he says glumly. “Nothing’s going to change without me becoming a dictator.”
Dean tries not to let his disgruntlement show. Cas is seriously still on this heavenly democracy trip?
“So that’s why you’ve been AWOL this whole week?” he asks, perfectly calm, fuck you very much. “Playing angelic freedom crusader?”
Cas looks at Dean as if he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone in the room. “A week?” he asks in astonishment. “I spent a whole week of human time making Raphael read graduate theses on political systems and I didn’t even accomplish anything?”
Dean tries to strangle his laugh in his throat - Cas doesn’t look like he can take any more abuse - but the thought of Raphael sitting in a musty college library reading up on human governments is too much to contemplate and he snorts loudly, all frustration with Cas’s absence gone.
“You - you made him read graduate theses?” he says, in between wheezes of laughter.
Cas glares, mouth set in what would be a pout on anyone else. On him it’s more like a warning sign to evacuate the area before there’s an explosion. “Not just Raphael, although I made him read the most. I thought if the traditionalists could understand the harmful effects of a stagnant political system that pools all the power into the hands of a small homogenous group, they might be more open to other ideas.”
“Didn’t go like you wanted it to, huh?”
Cas slumps down, head against the back of the couch. “I thought I had carefully chosen all the texts available, but somehow Raphael got a hold of a pamphlet promoting Calvinism as a valid form of government, and now he's worse than ever.”
Dean reaches for a minute. “Those are the dudes who think everything’s predestined and no one can change anything because everything is already exactly how it’s supposed to be or it wouldn't be that way in the first place, right?”
Cas nods, closing his eyes. “You don’t even want to know how the pamphlet translated that into government. Raphael was one of the angels who promoted Calvinism the first time around, but this particular interpretation was new to him.” He looks at Dean. "I don't know what to try next. Maybe I should give up."
Cas sounds so depressed that Dean wishes he could promise a trip to the arcade or another easy fix, like he used to do with Sam when they were kids, stuck in the same motel room for weeks with nothing to do. But his best distraction technique for dealing with Castiel has already failed to work as a long term solution, and what else is he qualified to suggest?
Dean tugs Cas over until they're pressed up against each other, Dean's arm around Cas's shoulder (which in no way resembles cuddling, Dean viciously tells his inner Sam), and starts talking out of his ass.
"That's the thing about free will, though, right?" he says. "People can have all kinds of shitty ideas and you can't keep them from disagreeing with you or you're just as bad as a tyrant. Doesn't matter if you're right if you're still forcing people to think like you."
"Yes," Cas replies, "but angels are not people, and trying to get an angel to express an opinion that has not been in their minds from the beginning of time is proving to be almost impossible, and I can't quite remember why I thought it was so important in the first place."
"Because God basically told all the angels to grow the fuck up and follow your example, that's why," Dean says, a proud expression on his face. "You're the new Michael, only not a douchebag."
Cas's gloom gets a little lighter, even as he throws Dean a smirk that says he's only tolerating Dean's nonsense because of his cute face. Whatever, Cas can insinuate as much as he wants. Dean knows better.
"You have all of eternity to get this done, right?" Dean continues. "You can't expect them all to be as awesome as you and get it right away. Give yourself longer than a week before you start thinking you're a failure."
Cas frowns. "It's been more than two years, though, since things first changed in heaven."
"Yeah, but angels are like old people, it takes them forever to let go of their ways and learn something new. Seriously, don't worry about it until it's been five years." Dean can tell Cas wants to yell at him for disparaging the elderly, so he pulls an excellent move (in his experienced opinion) and straddles Cas on the couch before Cas can protest or respond. Cas can't resist kissing, and Dean uses that knowledge like a weapon.
Cas gives in for a while, tugging Dean firmly down onto his lap and kissing back with fervor, hands roaming over Dean's naked spine and hips. Then he pulls away and gives Dean the evil eye.
"What?" Dean asks innocently.
"I'm letting it go for now because your opinion made sense, not because you keep trying to distract me with your mouth," Cas says firmly. "I'm not having sex with you unless you understand that."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Sure, I got it. Distraction techniques are unnecessary," he says, licking up Cas's neck slowly. "But you have to admit, they are still fun."
After an hour of really excellent couch sex, Castiel is forced to agree with him.
***
For a while, it seems like Cas is dealing with his "being in charge of everything" angst pretty well (that means mostly: "where Dean doesn't have to listen to it"). Then Sam gets involved. Of fucking course.
Dean gets home one evening to find them deep in conversation, in the kitchen of all places.
“None of them had even read The Communist Manifesto?” Sam is saying incredulously.
“Angels have never needed to know how to do anything but obey orders before now,” Cas replies, shaking his head. "And even if any of them were inclined to study political science, I doubt that Marx would have been their first choice. He's not hierarchical enough."
"Oh my god," Dean complains, putting the six-pack he'd picked up on the way home from work into the fridge. "Sam, don't encourage him!"
Sam and Cas both turn and give Dean identical bitchy faces. He struggles to not find it incredibly adorable.
"This has serious repercussions, Dean," Sam lectures. "The future of heaven is at stake."
"Oh, yeah?" Dean replies. "Right now your future is at stake. I still haven't forgiven you for letting him read that stupid course packet with all the dissident voices nonsense."
Sam smirks. "That reminds me, Cas, I brought back a copy of that book you asked for yesterday."
Cas brightens as Sam pulls a book the size of Dean's head from his bag and lays it on the table. Dean cranes his neck to read the title, something like On Historical and Political Knowing, which is as douchy of a title as he would've expected. He sits down at the table to supervise what's sure to be a disaster, which he'll end up being blamed for, somehow.
"Thank you," Cas tells Sam, picking up the book and opening the cover. "This is the text for next week's assignment."
"Assignment?" Dean asks. "What, you're giving out angelic homework regularly now?"
"Sam suggested it," Cas replies, and Sam sticks his tongue out at Dean. "Everyone reads the same book or article each week, and then writes a paper discussing it, and shares the paper with everyone else."
"I figured it might jumpstart some real conversation," Sam says. "Then maybe Cas can get some of them to stop being such assholes about the more archaic rules he wants to phase out."
Dean figures it's not actually that bad of an idea. "As long as I don't have to read any of it," he mutters, getting up to call out for dinner. Sam and Cas barely notice, too caught up in planning Cas's little angel school.
Dean supposes he should’ve just handed this off to Sam at the beginning, and he spends the evening trying to shrug off vague feelings of uselessness. When he and Cas say goodnight to Sam and stumble into Dean’s bedroom, Cas calls him on it.
“Sam’s idea may have been very helpful,” Cas begins, “but you are helpful in your own way, too.”
Dean leers. “Yeah, I know what I’m good for,” he says. As a joke, it falls flat.
Cas grabs his shoulder and swings him around to lean against the closed bedroom door. “You are everything, Dean, and you should know that,” he says fiercely.
The tiny knot of apprehension in Dean’s throat smoothes away immediately, and he coughs to hide his far too mushy reaction.
“I would not be here if not for you,” Cas continues. “I would not even have a heaven to worry about or the knowledge that this is the right thing to do.”
Dean relaxes against Cas, his hands coming up to play with Cas’s waistband. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “I do know that.”
“Good.” Cas lets the intensity in his eyes change into arousal, and Dean meets him halfway for a long, deep kiss as they move toward the bed.
As much as the finality of his relationship with Cas scares him sometimes, he wouldn’t give it up for anything.
***
Cas spends more time in heaven than usual during the next couple of months, getting his new program into place. Dean uses the extra alone time to build up an impressive knowledge of Dr Sexy trivia (well, he also takes a few solo hunting trips), whenever Sam's not there to tease him about it.
Cas talks about it constantly, which Dean doesn’t really mind all that much, since the stories Cas tells usually feature Raphael getting schooled in increasingly hilarious ways. Progress has been slow, but Cas is optimistic about the future, and much happier because of it. Dean does draw the line at some things, however.
“I am not touching you until you put that essay down,” Dean says.
“I’m almost done,” Cas replies, not looking away from the paper he’s holding as he lounges on the bed on his side, distractingly naked. “Just grope me for a while, I don’t mind.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds really hot. It’s not my fault you forgot to finish the reading for this week,” he says from his position on the bed, kneeling behind Cas. He pokes Cas’s hip, hard. “I shouldn’t be punished for something I didn’t do.”
Cas sighs melodramatically (it still sometimes surprises Dean when he does that) and looks over his shoulder at Dean.
“Tell you what,” Cas says with a devious little smile. “If you can convince me to postpone my reading using your mouth and nothing else, and I don’t mean with words, then I’ll put it away and you can fuck me.”
Dean almost laughs, but hearing Cas say things like “fuck me” is still an instant turn on, and it comes out more like a groan. Cas goes back to reading the paper.
“You can start any time,” he says.
“God, you’re annoying,” Dean says fondly, and scoots down to do his best.
Ten minutes of judicious rimming with a side order of sucking later, Dean smirks triumphantly as Cas moans and drops the paper to the floor.
Dean’s mouth is clearly awesome.
The end.
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