Fic: Castiel Won't Tell
Fic title: Castiel Won't Tell
Pairing: yes! well, really no... maybe?
Rating: PG-ish
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel.
Genre: Supernatural
Warnings: None? Bad humour?
Summary: Castiel has never encountered a situation in his long existence where his choice of action was in question - until now. The question is: will he, or won't he?
Disclaimer: Just borrowing. Own nothing; it's sad really ;p
Notes: I have a terrible time with writing. Editing I get, it's easy(ish) and fun, but put a blank page in front of me and I'm paralyzed with terror. So, thanks to the poking of the marvelous brokenhighways I have managed to create and actually post... this. So, please read and tell me what you think, even if you think it stinks (but please, be gentle!).
Onwards! :)
Castiel Won't Tell
Castiel had known that it would only be a matter of time.
The little glances of want, need, desire, even jealousy were all there if one only knew when and where to look, and Dean always looked. Though Sam, arguably, was the more in touch with his emotions in this sense, it was most likely that Dean had led the way. Dean was every bit as smart as his brother, albeit in a different way, and he definitely surpassed him when it came to physical satisfaction.
And so it was that the Angel of The Lord stood stiff outside of Sam’s room in the bunker, listening to the gasps, groans, muttered swearing, and entreaties to his Father emanating from within. He was well pleased that the two had patched up their differences and were continuing to… strengthen their bond.
“Yeah, Sam, right there! Don’t move until I tell you to! Perfect! Now give me all you’ve got!” Dean’s growl, husky and low, was almost intimidating in its intensity.
Repeated thumping followed by a groan and muttered grunt that had to be Sam, as well as the squeak of bedsprings, followed, and Castiel knew not what to do. His Father had never prepared him for this eventuality.
Castiel knew that they would ask him to join and didn’t know if he could say no.
Didn’t know if he wanted to.
Sighing, Castiel chastised himself. It was unworthy of an angel, even one such as he, not to address the situation, and the brothers’ needs - whatever they may be - were more important than his discomfort. He had often seen in his dealings with mankind that growth could only be achieved by attempting that which for various reasons would never be normally considered.
The thumping emanating from the room had stopped and, judging by the quiet murmurs and subtle laughter, had reached a satisfactory conclusion.
Straightening, he gathered his trench coat tight; not even bothering to knock, he strode into the room. Castiel gazed upon the scene and admitted in the core of his being, that it was good. He had been cowardly to avoid this.
Two startled, satisfied faces swung his way, each glimmering with a fine sheen of sweat. Dean scrambled up off the now thoroughly rumpled - normally immaculate - sheets of Sam’s bed, tucking his tool away.
“Cas! I was just thinking of you.”
Dean put his hand out and rubbed it in a sensuous glide over the silken skin of the newly erected bookshelf that they had just put up over Sam’s bed.
“What do you think, Cas? Just what the Doctor ordered, huh. A potential monument to Sammy-boys geekery, to put all his pretties.”
Sam affectionately cuffed his brother on the back of his head, “Yeah, like you didn’t put up one for your ‘pretties’ as soon as you found that woodshop on the lower level by the pool.”
Dean laughed, proud and pleased that he could put his skills to use and create something for his brother. “Next I’m - we’re” Dean shot a fond glance at Sam, “going to put together some bedside tables, maybe try to make some hex boxes; a little tongue and groove. What do you say, Cas? You game to help Sam and me in a little woodworking?”
Two sets of shiny, hopeful eyes swung his way.
Castiel knew his life would never be the same.
The End
~~~**~~~
A/N: I've read mention somewhere that the bunker has a pool (at least in fic), so I thought 'what the hell, let's give them a woodshop too'.
Just a bit of silly humour from my warped sense of fun. Hope you enjoyed and had a bit of a ...giggle? snort? hearty chuckle? Meh, I'll take whatever I can get if it lightens someone's day :)
Pairing: yes! well, really no... maybe?
Rating: PG-ish
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel.
Genre: Supernatural
Warnings: None? Bad humour?
Summary: Castiel has never encountered a situation in his long existence where his choice of action was in question - until now. The question is: will he, or won't he?
Disclaimer: Just borrowing. Own nothing; it's sad really ;p
Notes: I have a terrible time with writing. Editing I get, it's easy(ish) and fun, but put a blank page in front of me and I'm paralyzed with terror. So, thanks to the poking of the marvelous brokenhighways I have managed to create and actually post... this. So, please read and tell me what you think, even if you think it stinks (but please, be gentle!).
Onwards! :)
Castiel Won't Tell
Castiel had known that it would only be a matter of time.
The little glances of want, need, desire, even jealousy were all there if one only knew when and where to look, and Dean always looked. Though Sam, arguably, was the more in touch with his emotions in this sense, it was most likely that Dean had led the way. Dean was every bit as smart as his brother, albeit in a different way, and he definitely surpassed him when it came to physical satisfaction.
And so it was that the Angel of The Lord stood stiff outside of Sam’s room in the bunker, listening to the gasps, groans, muttered swearing, and entreaties to his Father emanating from within. He was well pleased that the two had patched up their differences and were continuing to… strengthen their bond.
“Yeah, Sam, right there! Don’t move until I tell you to! Perfect! Now give me all you’ve got!” Dean’s growl, husky and low, was almost intimidating in its intensity.
Repeated thumping followed by a groan and muttered grunt that had to be Sam, as well as the squeak of bedsprings, followed, and Castiel knew not what to do. His Father had never prepared him for this eventuality.
Castiel knew that they would ask him to join and didn’t know if he could say no.
Didn’t know if he wanted to.
Sighing, Castiel chastised himself. It was unworthy of an angel, even one such as he, not to address the situation, and the brothers’ needs - whatever they may be - were more important than his discomfort. He had often seen in his dealings with mankind that growth could only be achieved by attempting that which for various reasons would never be normally considered.
The thumping emanating from the room had stopped and, judging by the quiet murmurs and subtle laughter, had reached a satisfactory conclusion.
Straightening, he gathered his trench coat tight; not even bothering to knock, he strode into the room. Castiel gazed upon the scene and admitted in the core of his being, that it was good. He had been cowardly to avoid this.
Two startled, satisfied faces swung his way, each glimmering with a fine sheen of sweat. Dean scrambled up off the now thoroughly rumpled - normally immaculate - sheets of Sam’s bed, tucking his tool away.
“Cas! I was just thinking of you.”
Dean put his hand out and rubbed it in a sensuous glide over the silken skin of the newly erected bookshelf that they had just put up over Sam’s bed.
“What do you think, Cas? Just what the Doctor ordered, huh. A potential monument to Sammy-boys geekery, to put all his pretties.”
Sam affectionately cuffed his brother on the back of his head, “Yeah, like you didn’t put up one for your ‘pretties’ as soon as you found that woodshop on the lower level by the pool.”
Dean laughed, proud and pleased that he could put his skills to use and create something for his brother. “Next I’m - we’re” Dean shot a fond glance at Sam, “going to put together some bedside tables, maybe try to make some hex boxes; a little tongue and groove. What do you say, Cas? You game to help Sam and me in a little woodworking?”
Two sets of shiny, hopeful eyes swung his way.
Castiel knew his life would never be the same.
The End
~~~**~~~
A/N: I've read mention somewhere that the bunker has a pool (at least in fic), so I thought 'what the hell, let's give them a woodshop too'.
Just a bit of silly humour from my warped sense of fun. Hope you enjoyed and had a bit of a ...giggle? snort? hearty chuckle? Meh, I'll take whatever I can get if it lightens someone's day :)