fic, SPN: out on the tiles (Dean/Castiel), NC17
... I FINISHED FIC! ... let's all rejoice. Or maybe not. Ugh why am I so slow at finishing things lately.
Title: out on the tiles
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: if you don't care for Led Zeppelin this might not be your thing.
Spoilers: implied that it's set after S6 is done, though spoilers would be until 6x12 specifically. Anyway references most of the major S6 plot points.
Word Count: ~7000
Summary: wherein Castiel brings both he and Dean in 1975 to see Led Zeppelin.
A/N: written for the d_hearts_c exchange. My prompt was: 34. Sam tells Castiel that giving a gift to someone you love is a Valentine's tradition. Since Castiel is unsure of what kind of gift would be appropriate or appreciated, Sam suggests he stick to things that he knows Dean likes. So Castiel decides to take Dean back to April 15, 1977, to watch Led Zeppelin perform live in St. Louis. I made it 1975 rather than 1977 because of matters that just someone with OCD would have taken into account (like that in '77 there weren't apparently encores because someone threw bottles on stage), but for the rest I should have covered everything. I had wanted to write something along the lines of this for ages so I just hope it fits the bill. :D Title from a Led Zeppelin song, which I'm sure is very surprising.
At times, Castiel almost wishes he never even thought about going back to Heaven after being resurrected for the second time. Not only he spends two years dealing with a civil war, but he doesn’t even get to enjoy the results after it’s over. Or well. Mostly. It’s not exaggerating; it’s the plain truth. It was mostly over after he finally managed to defeat Raphael for good, and at least he had convinced Balthazar and enough others to come on his side. But he had come out the final battle with enough wounds that it had ended with Balthazar leaving him on Bobby Singer’s couch (Raphael had trapped him inside his vessel before the last battle had begun), where Castiel had stayed for the following two weeks. Which weren’t that pleasurable, except for that moment during the second week when Dean had actually apologized to him for having pretty much disregarded Castiel’s impending matters in Heaven for the previous past year. (Then Castiel had apologized himself for having been maybe too harsh, and it ended up in kissing on the couch. Right, that had been pretty much the only highlight of the last two years, especially since Castiel had assumed that his and Dean’s relationship wasn’t going to go back to that, after everything that happened.)
So he had promised to ‘stick around’ more, and he had thought that he’d be able to be on Earth often enough anyway.
Wrong.
Castiel loves having free will, he does, but not when he has to spend his time chasing rogue angels who decided that they can try everything since they found out that there’s the option. Clearly as soon as Balthazar stops with it (mostly) everyone else has to follow his example. Result: he has been trying to keep Heaven under control without actually denying free will to the other angels, it takes a lot more time than he’d have thought and he isn’t staying on Earth as much as he’d like. It’s still more than it used to be, but not enough.
Then last day Balthazar has suggested him to ‘just take a stupid sabbatical, brother, you look wiped’, and Castiel is almost tempted to do that. Except that the idea of coming back to what would probably be utter chaos is enough to make him decide against it.
Anyway, he deserves a break, if anything, and so he wills himself to Bobby Singer’s living room. He was half-hoping to find Dean, mostly because lately he hasn’t been around much, but there’s just Sam doing some research.
“What - Cas, hi,” Sam says after jerking on his seat. “You’ll never not scare me,” he mutters then.
Castiel ignores that and takes a seat. “Hello, Sam.”
“I bet you wanted to see Dean, right?” Sam winks as he speaks, and Castiel gives him a nod.
“He’s with Bobby taking care of some vengeful spirit in Nebraska. I had stuff to catch up with and they said they could do it on their own, so… well, sorry, you probably were expecting to -”
“Sam, that’s fine. To be honest I was merely hoping to… take a break, as you’d say. If you don’t mind -”
“Hey, ‘course I don’t. Do you want a beer? I could use a break too anyway.”
Castiel nods gratefully and Sam goes to the kitchen, coming back with two bottles and handing Castiel one.
“Things aren’t that great up there, huh?”
“Understatement,” Castiel replies as he takes a drink.
“That bad? One would think that with Purgatory off limits, Raphael out of the picture and everything else taken care of, you’d get a bit of down time.”
“I hadn’t thought about a lot of consequences,” Castiel sighs back.
“What, too much free will brings chaos?”
“That would be it, yes. If my only other alternative to keep order wasn’t Balthazar I think I’d have left already,” he confesses, and to be entirely truthful it feels nice to just talk to someone who isn’t involved in Heaven’s business for once.
Sam nods and takes a drink as well, and then Castiel realizes that it’s been a month since he last visited.
“Can I ask you a question, Sam?”
“Shoot.”
“How is Dean? I… I would have checked, but this last month has been... hectic, to say the least.”
Sam leans back in his chair and bites his lip. “Do you want the entire truth?”
Castiel just stares at him and doesn’t dignify Sam with an answer.
“Right, sorry. Well, he pretends it’s all awesome and shit, and he’s okay, I mean, considering the past three years it’s the best I’ve seen him being, but at some point he had too much to drink, he spilled some stuff that he probably didn’t want to spill, and I just - man, I think that he’s getting worried that you aren’t going to show up anymore or something. It’s not even your fault, he knows that you have shit to deal with, it’s just that - I don’t even know how I should put it, damn -”
“I understand,” Castiel answers, wishing that he had managed to visit even for a short time. He usually doesn’t bother if he knows that he won’t have at least a couple of hours, but maybe he should reconsider it. He almost longs for when he was on his way to falling - his existence was a lot more miserable, but at least they had all the time they could manage. He knows that Dean always thinks that one day Castiel will just fly off to Heaven for good, and he wishes that he could explain Dean that he won’t, but it’s not the time to dwell on what he regrets.
“Do you think you can stay here until tomorrow? They should be back by evening.”
Castiel sighs and shakes his head. “Probably not. I don’t trust anyone to take care of things, and considering what was going on when I left, I’m not sure I could wait that long.”
“What’s up?”
“Balthazar had decided to buy souls when you first met him, but at least he kept them for himself.”
“Do you mean there’s some rogue angel buying souls and… selling them to someone else?”
“A demon we still couldn’t track down,” Castiel sighs. “But I really wish I could do something to make up for all the time I’m not visiting. Even more so if Dean is getting worried.”
Sam bites his lip like he’s thinking about something but isn’t sure about saying it.
“Sam? What are you thinking?”
“If I actually tell you and you end up agreeing, Dean will probably kill me.”
“Considering all the effort he puts in keeping you alive, I very much doubt it.”
“Well, it’s Valentine’s Day next week,” Sam shrugs. “You know how it is, right?”
“I very much doubt that your brother would enjoy heart-shaped boxes full of chocolate for a gift. Or any other thing that you usually exchange.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t going to tell you to buy him a gigantic teddy bear. I don’t think you’re in the kind of relationship that implies any of you buying the usual Valentine’s Day crap. Just, why don’t you think something up and organize… I don’t know, a nice evening for him? Doing whatever you think he’d like. It doesn’t mean that it has to be a pink heart-shaped box, right?”
Castiel frowns and then nods, weighing his options. It isn’t a bad idea, and while it won’t change much, maybe at least he’ll manage to show Dean that he hasn’t forgotten about the both of them being in a relationship. (Castiel is perfectly aware of how it works - that’s how he knows that he’s doing it completely wrong, by human standards.)
“That’s sound advice,” he says as he finishes his beer. “Do you have any advice? I need to be sure it’s something he would really enjoy.”
“Well, he hasn’t had much fun lately, all things considered. Pick a place and go out for dinner?”
“Eating together? That doesn’t sound very… thoughtful.”
“Yeah, I figure that anyone could come up with asking someone else out for dinner. Then again I doubt either of you would go… I don’t know, dancing or something of the kind.”
Castiel is half-sure that Sam must have seen complete dismissal in his eyes, because then he shakes his head and obviously tries to come up with some different idea.
“Why not a concert? Last time he attended one was probably years ago. Heck, it might have been that Metallica one I had to attend as well…”
“When was that?”
“When he got his GED. Metallica were playing like, one hour from where we lived at the time and I had got him a ticket, but our dad had ruled out Dean going alone because he was on the other side of the country and I was fourteen and of course I couldn’t be left alone, so I ended up getting Bobby to buy another ticket for me and we both went without telling Dad. It was kind of a blast, even if I hate Metallica, but I guess that yeah, that could work.” Sam has a slight smile over his face as he speaks, and Castiel assumes that it ha to have been a pleasant memory.
“I think it could be doable. Very well. So, ruling… Metallica out since he has seen them already, who would you suggest?”
“Man, gosh, I don’t know. Half of the bands he likes are dead and buried and the other half tours once every five years, and half of that half doesn’t even have the original line-up. In a perfect world I’d say you should try for Led Zeppelin, but it’s not like we’re in the seventies, right?”
Castiel can suddenly feel the corners of his lips curl up in a slight smile. “Sam, I believe that you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
Sam looks up at him, their eyes meet and then Sam blinks and nods in understanding, a small smile on his lips mirroring Castiel’s own.
“Right, I hadn’t taken that into account.”
“That’s settled then, but… I think I need your help. I figure that I should choose a date.”
“Yeah, they were around for ten years so there’s a lot of choice… but hey, that’s what the internet is for, right? Let’s see to pick the right one,” Sam says as he opens the laptop again, and Castiel moves to stand behind his shoulder.
Two hours later they have everything decided to the last detail, and Castiel feels way too pleased. But Sam looks pleased as well and if everything goes how it should, then things should work out nicely.
“Thank you,” Castiel says. “I’m not sure I could have managed all of that.”
“Hey, living with Dean all my life must have taught me something about Zeppelin, right?” Sam answers while leaning back on his seat. “So, we’ll see you on the fourteenth?”
“You will."
“Good. I won’t tell Dean that you showed up. But maybe you could, y’know, text him now and then. He might stop freaking out as much.”
Castiel nods and then clearly Balthazar has to warn him that he’s needed back in Heaven. What timing.
“I have to go. But I’ll make sure to be here next week.”
He leaves then, and God help him but he’s looking forward to a stupid human holiday now. At times he wonders if Heaven is really his home anymore.
**
Cas has been sending texts for a week now and it’s a damned good thing, because Dean was starting to think that he had fucked off again. Since it took them two years to get over that part, he’s pretty sure that whatever is between them wouldn’t have survived another blow of the kind, but apparently Cas just has the most insane stupid job that ever was.
Not that Dean envies him, fuck no, and he’s glad that at least Cas can get back into Heaven at all, but dammit, Dean would like it if for once he could spend some stupid quality time with him. Fuck, he always knew that long-distance relationships are doomed by default - there’s a reason he never gave it a try. Or a reason why it was never going to work with Lisa. Whatever. He hasn’t seen Cas for one month and a half by now and while Dean won’t say it out loud to anyone, heck no, it sucks. Badly. It’s not like he had fallen back straight into Bobby’s couch with Cas thinking that they’d get a house and a dog, but if they have to do this, he’d like to do it right. Not to mention that he’ll never shake away that stupid voice in his head telling him to just quit it, probably Cas has understood that he really deserves better.
Then Cas started texting and so Dean can’t say that he doesn’t have a proof that Cas does give a shit. Still, texts aren’t the real thing.
Also, today is stupid Valentine’s Day and Sam is spending his time casting glances around like he’s expecting someone to appear out of thin air any second. Which is making Dean feel weird as hell, because it’s not like Cas will ever show up for a stupid made-up holiday of everything, and it’s not like Dean wants to go on a date and buy chocolates. Also it shouldn’t be Sam worrying about it anyway. Then again they’re still at Bobby’s without a case and Dean is getting bored out of his mind. He manages to kill a few hours with the umpteenth Dr. Sexy rerun he catches, and he ignores Sam pretending to feel pain as soon as he realizes what Dean is watching.
So it’s pretty much a day like any other except that Cas suddenly appears out of thin air in the middle of the season two finale, and why the hell Sam looks relieved when Cas does show up?
“Hi Cas,” Sam says, and now he sounds like he’s trying to hold back laughter. Cas nods at him and then turns to Dean, and he’s… smirking. Downright smirking.
This isn’t making any goddamn sense.
“Well, about time you showed up,” Dean mutters. “So, what’s the occasion?”
“I have a free evening,” Cas deadpans while moving closer. “And I wish to spend it with you, if you don’t have more pressing matters.”
Dean rolls his eyes and shuts the tv off. “Cas, the hell? I haven’t seen you in almost two months, Dr. Sexy can wait if we can catch up.”
He says catch up trying to sound at least half-seducing, but Cas just keeps on staring at him for a handful of seconds and then he gives him a short nod. “Good. Then I need you to come with me.”
“Hey, hey, can’t we drive?” Dean asks as soon as Cas raises his hand.
“Not this time,” Cas answers before pressing his fingers to Dean’s forehead.
When Dean blinks, he’s sure that he’s hallucinating.
It’s definitely dark, and it’s damn cold. Or well, it is until a coat appears on him out of nowhere. But okay, it’s February, that’s not the problem.
The problem is that most of the people he’s seeing are dressed like Hair stand-ins, and that he can’t possibly be standing in front of what he’s standing.
“Cas.”
“Dean?”
“Where the hell are we? That looks like the St. Louis Arena.”
“That’s because we are in St. Louis.”
“We can’t be there. They demolished it some ten years ago!”
Cas honest to God smirks before nodding again. “Maybe you should ask me which day is it.”
“… Cas? Which day is it?” Dean asks, trying to see where Cas is aiming here.
“February 16th, 1975,” Cas answers.
“Wait. Wait, what -” Dean never finishes the sentence because then Cas fishes inside his pockets and hands Dean a couple of tickets.
Dean takes them with shaking hands and as soon as he reads what’s written on the stubs, he pinches himself.
When he’s sure that he isn’t dreaming, he looks at the tickets again.
“You’re shitting me.”
“I wouldn’t have gone through all this effort just to make fun of you,” Cas answers, sounding completely serious.
“You’ve bought freaking Led Zeppelin tickets?” Dean almost shouts, feeling too stunned to do anything else. “You show up on goddamn Valentine’s Day and… oh,” Dean keeps on before stopping abruptly and getting it.
Cas moves closer and a warm hand closes around Dean’s elbow. Dean raises his head from his pink and cream colored ticket with Swan Song written on the bottom and looks at Cas. He’s staring at Dean almost fondly, a warm light in his gaze, and Dean is pretty sure that they’re about to have a moment. It strangely doesn’t feel as daunting as it should.
“I know that long absences never were what you had in mind for… for this. And they weren’t what I had in mind as well, but I can’t do anything about it for now. I also know that you keep on doubting where I stand, which is also my fault -”
“Cas, come on, you know you can’t help that, it isn’t -”
“Dean. Let me finish. I can’t promise that things will change soon, as much as I’d like to, but at the same time I wanted to make a point this time. I know you still think that one day I’ll stop coming back, and don’t try to deny it.”
Dean was about to interrupt, but he closes his mouth and lets Cas go on. Damn. They’re really having a moment. In St. Louis. In 1975. Then Cas’s hand reaches up and cups Dean’s cheek and okay, right, he has to take deep breaths here or he won’t be able to stand Cas’s stare much longer.
“So wait, you decided to come up with the most impossible date in the existence of ever just to make up for lost time?” Dean half-jokes, but he’s pretty sure that he isn’t kidding anyone here. His voice is shaking, dammit.
“I was assured that you’d have appreciated.”
“Man, what? You’re wasting energy to bring me to see my favorite band, what makes you think I’m not appreciating here?”
“Why should it be a waste of energy if it makes you happy?” Cas deadpans back, completely serious, and Dean has no freaking idea of what he should do here. He’s tempted to kiss Cas stupid and give everyone a show, but maybe it isn’t just the case, so he just moves closer to Cas and doesn’t even try to stop grinning.
“All right then. Damn, if I had known I’d have at least put my Zeppelin shirt, I’m seriously not fit -”
Suddenly he feels something like a tickle and when he looks down he’s wearing said shirt. Cas is downright smirking and Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, thanks for the wardrobe change. Though maybe you should have one too.”
Cas tilts his head just slightly. “Excuse me?”
“Cas, that’s a rock concert. No one would go in a suit. It isn’t even comfortable.”
Cas, rather than answering, starts looking around them and then stares for a handful of seconds at this guy making out with a girl in a corner; when Dean turns back to look at Cas, he’s wearing jeans, comfortable boots and the same Grateful Dead shirt that Dean can see on the guy. The coat hasn’t changed but that’s alright, it’d feel massively weird if Cas wore something else.
“Let’s go?” Dean asks.
“Lead the way.”
Dean bites his tongue to kill the urge to laugh and they go towards the arena. He clutches the ticket in his hand like it’d disappear if he loosens that hold.
--
“Holy shit, this is huge,” Dean whispers as they get inside and search for their seats. He knew that it was supposed to be big, but not this big. It probably can hold some ten thousand people at least, but he’s sure that it’d be the minimum. And damn, it’s not like he has ever been inside an arena of this kind; that Metallica gig they had attended was in a way smaller venue, and it’s not like he has ever gone to hockey or baseball games.
“Dean? Is there a problem?” Cas asks a couple of minutes after Dean stops to just stare around.
“What? No. Sorry. Got overwhelmed for a second. Go ahead, I might be getting lost already.”
Turns out that Cas picked some pretty awesome tickets. They’re in the first row of seats next to the stage, meaning that while neither of them is going to get smashed in the pit they’ so will have a pretty awesome view.
“Woah, since when are you an expert on good seats?”
“I’m not. Me and Sam looked up a prospect of the arena and then he advised me on where we should sit.”
“And then what, you went to the seventies and managed to find the ones you wanted?”
“I wasn’t going to do it wrong.”
Clearly. No one would do shit half-assed, if it means bringing time travel into it.
Then it finally hits Dean. He’s sitting in a long-demolished arena in 1975 and he’s going to see his fucking favorite band which actually disbanded when he was two and - and that’d be because Cas wanted to be extra-nice to him. When he probably doesn’t care either way about Led Zeppelin.
Dean resolves to never doubt Cas’s commitment again and to show exactly how much he’s appreciating as soon as it’s over. And then something else dawns on him and he loses half of his good mood.
“What if they call you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if there’s some urgency in Heaven or shit. I mean, it’s happened -”
Cas rolls his eyes and grips Dean’s wrist so hard that it almost hurts.
“Dean. I left orders not to disturb me this evening even if Lucifer breaks free from his cage. Stop worrying already.”
Dean nods, left too speechless to say anything, and figures that he could take a look around. The arena is almost full by now, and he decides to see who else is in the audience at least in their section. Most people around him are around twenty and with way longer hair than his own, which makes him feel strangely old even if technically they’re older than he is (heck, he wasn’t even born in 1975). It’s so fucking weird.
“Man, I feel old.”
“Nonsense.”
“I know, I just - nevermind. Damn, when is it going to start? Because I’m starting to get itchy here.”
“Patience,” Cas smirks back. Then Dean notices a couple behind them making out, and they’re pretty loud. He sort of wishes he could do it as well but as liberal as the setting is, maybe it’s better not to push it. Or not with the lights on, anyway.
They wait another thirty minutes or so before the lights are turned off except for the ones pointed at the stage and damn. It’s really happening. A guy with a microphone comes out on stage and starts saying shit that Dean doesn’t really process, not when at some point he has said Page, Plant, Jones and Bonham in the same sentence. Then everything goes dark and it stays dark for a short while. They can only hear the crowd screaming and a couple chords here and there, until lights on the stage are turned on and damn damn damn there they are.
Everything is bathed in a red/orange light, and everyone’s already on stage; before he can process that there’s Robert Plant in the same building as he is, he recognizes the first chords to Rock n’ Roll and he’s sure he’s going to pass away before this is over. Then everyone seated next to them is up and moving and singing, and he can’t exactly stay seated so he does the same and then takes Cas’s elbow and drags him up as well. Thankfully Cas takes off the coat so at least he doesn’t look too awkward, but for a second he looks completely out of place. Then he shakes his head at Dean in the universal gesture of just have fun, I’ll deal with this, and Dean feels bad at leaving him to his own devices but dammit if he’s going to lose his only chance ever to sing along to Rock n’ Roll at a Zeppelin concert.
When it’s done they move on to Sick Again, which while awesome isn’t fundamental in Dean’s book, or at least not as fundamental that he can’t check on how Cas is doing. He’s obviously trying to copy the movements of the girl sitting next to him, who doesn’t seem to be that comfortable in the first place, but he’s moving enough to give the impression to know what he’s doing, so Dean turns his eyes back on the stage. No but damn, there’s Jimmy Page wearing the clothes he wore in The Song Remains the Same. How is he even still standing, Dean doesn’t know, but he can’t just tear his eyes away from the stage. He goes from Plant to Page to Jones to Bonham unable to decide on one, but heck, it’ll be so worth it when he gets a headache. He manages to keep it straight during Over the Hills and Far Away, during which he totally accepts a beer that the guy next to him hands over (said guy is in tears and is screaming that this is the best day of his goddamn life and he just wants to share how awesome he feels, and Dean can’t disagree on that), which is also good if not cool. Then there’s a moment of pause before they go into In My Time of Dying, or what used to be one of Dean’s favorites before he actually died. He doubts he has ever listened to it since, and it sucks because it’s a damned good song. Also he doesn’t need to freak out here of all -
Suddenly he feels Cas slam into his side, there’s a hand closed around his hip and the both of them don’t even seem too suspicious, pressed together: heck, everyone in the arena is more or less attached to the hip. He glances at Cas, who gives him a short nod and then leans closer.
“Enjoy yourself,” he half-screams into Dean’s ear when he realizes that the music is too loud, and… well, he’s right. Fuck it, Dean thinks, he might have his reasons to freak out but there’s Cas right next to him, that song rocks and he isn’t going to die again right now, so he might as well stop giving a shit.
It’s easier than he’d have thought, and he gets through the ten minutes of that song without flashes or wanting to vomit. He’s almost disappointed when it goes into The Song Remains the Same. Cas’s hand stays where it is, though, and Dean decides that he doesn’t want to change the situation.
And damn but he can’t stop staring at Jimmy Page’s hands during the next one. He stares at them enough that he doesn’t notice Cas moving his fingers against his thigh following the rhythm. It ends too soon for his tastes though, and then there’s a short pause before they go into the next song.
Which is The Rain Song, and the couple behind them starts making out loudly again as soon as they realize what is being played. Suddenly half of the people around them wrap around each other or start to kiss, and in one case to cry, and Dean sits back down since no one is jumping or screaming. Which feels nice, after forty minutes of standing up. He closes his eyes after the first stanza, just to try how it feels.
It is the summer of my smiles - flee from me Keepers of the Gloom.
Speak to me only with your eyes, it is to you I give this tune.
Ain't so hard to recognize - these things are clear to all from time to time
Talk, talk - I've felt the coldness of my winter
I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us...
But I know that I love you so
Everything sounds perfectly clear since there’s as much silence as it gets in the arena, and then he feels a hand tentatively covering his own. He opens his eyes and turns to Cas just as Robert Plant sings, this is the wonder of devotion, and… Cas is still looking at him in that way that is open and sincere and with feelings showing just through his eyes, and damn if this isn’t another moment. But as Dean turns his hand over and threads his fingers with Cas’s, he can’t give a shit. No one said that having a moment once in a while is a bad thing, and no one is here to see them anyway.
Then it’s over, and Dean will admit just to himself that he wished it had lasted longer. Then he changes idea because Kashmir starts and he’s standing again along with everyone else, and spends the following ten minutes feeling like he’s died and gone to Heaven, or what Heaven is supposed to feel like in his book. It flows like the four of them are pieces made to fit together and make the most beautiful music that he has ever heard. At more than one point he feels like there’s sound running under his skin and making his blood boil, like it feels with sensation during that kind of sex which is awesome enough to bring you there. It’d be a good analogy anyway for what he’s feeling right now. As the song winds down he wishes he could just back Cas up against a wall and kiss him stupid while the concert is still going on. Pity that he can’t.
He sits down again during No Quarter. He feels almost drained, in the good way, and that’s when he actually notices that Cas is spending most of his time staring at John Paul Jones; his gaze shifts whenever he moves. Dean is about to ask Cas if he has a thing for people that aren’t usually in the spotlight, but the music is too loud and it’d be too complicated of a conversation to have right now and so he leans back, puts a hand on Cas’s thigh and keeps his eyes on the stage.
He stands up throughout all of Trampled Underfoot, and then everyone except for John Bonham leaves the stage and Dean can’t help it.
“Pay attention during this one,” he shouts at Cas, “that’s a proof that men can do miracles.”
Cas looks skeptical, but he turns his attention to John Bonham all the same.
Twenty minutes later, Moby Dick is over and Cas looks… well, not starstruck, but as impressed as he’ll ever get for something not supernatural related.
“That wasn’t human,” he shouts at Dean as people clap so loud that he’s barely audible, and well, you can’t blame Dean for having a fit of laughter that stops just when Dazed and Confused starts, can you?
Dean keeps on stealing glances at his right when he isn’t singing along though, and then he actually realizes that Cas looks like he’s genuinely enjoying himself here. He isn’t joining in whatever singing’s going on at the moment, but he doesn’t move awkwardly anymore and he’s looking at the band like he’s really interested instead of pretending to be.
It makes Dean strangely happy, it’s not like the two of them have done much together that they both enjoyed fully (except for sex, but that’s another question), and they never really had gone somewhere to have fun just for the heck of it. (The brothel doesn’t count - Cas was supposed to be dead in hours.) And the fact that it’s happening here and now - Dean really, really wants to show how appreciative he is and not just by rubbing his hip against Cas’s.
There’s silence after Dazed and Confused is over, though, and then just after he sits down he hears the first chords to Stairway to Heaven and - damn.
It never was his favorite Zeppelin song, but it’s still goddamn Stairway to Heaven, and he’s hearing it live, and there’s Jimmy Page in the spotlight and everything is so quiet even if the air thrums with energy. He doesn’t know that he’s crying until he brings a hand to his face a short while after Robert Plant joins in and starts to sing and Dean feels the wetness, and at the same time he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.
Fuck, he’s in St. Louis listening to Led Zeppelin playing Stairway to Heaven with a real angel at his side and - and it’s too much.
“Dean?” he sees Cas mouth rather than hear, because he has realized that someone will probably kill him if he keeps his voice too loud.
He shakes his head and puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder, mouthing that it’s fine, it really is, and then Cas inches closer and their shoulders are touching. Cas’s hand sneaks around Dean’s hip again and if they don’t move until the guitar solo, no one says anything and Dean likes it too much to move himself. Until the solo starts, of course, because you just can’t stay on a seat at that point.
Then everything goes dark and it seems over but of course it isn’t, and Dean figures that it won’t be that bad if he screams himself hoarse with everyone else as all the arena cheers (and considering home many people are inside it - well, you get that it feels fucking wonderful). This until the lights turn on again and the opening riff to Whole Lotta Love starts.
At which Dean finally realizes that after having spent the last handful of songs glued to Cas and considering that this entire concert has felt out of this world amazing, he might not be able to wait until they find a bed.
Also. It’s Whole Lotta Love.
He grabs Cas’s arm and starts leading him up the stairs, dodging people here and there until they reach the door leading to one of the emergency exits. He sees a guy and a girl rutting against each other farther down, her leg wrapped around his hip, and then he smirks and pushes Cas against the wall.
“Dean, what -” Cas starts, and at least they’re far enough that they can hear each other.
“I decided I can’t really wait to show you how much of a good time I’m having,” Dean says as he leans down.
“But - we can’t see from here, if -”
“Cas,” Dean says right in Cas’s ear so that he’s sure that it comes through. “I’ve spent three hours looking at the stage. Right now, I’d really like to look at you for a change. Also, you can’t exactly waste this song just standing there and taking a look around.”
And then he drops to his knees, his hands on Cas’s belt. There isn’t really more time for anything refined here, and it’s dark enough that no one will see them; Cas’s eyes are dark blue as he glances down at him, and since Cas isn’t wearing a belt Dean gets rid of jeans and underwear in a handful of seconds.
Way down inside, Robert Plant is singing right now. Dean smirks. Couldn’t be more appropriate, he thinks, and then he takes Castiel’s half-hard cock inside his mouth and sees to put that statement into practice. Also he’s pretty sure that he can work Cas up without a problem. He takes his time, sucks lightly on the head before running his tongue along the length, as much as he can. Cas moans and thrusts his hips forward, and he’s hard before the solo even starts. Dean can’t help feeling accomplished here; Cas’s hands reach his hair and he keeps Dean’s head still as he keeps on thrusting. His pupils are blown and Dean lets him, it’s not like Cas doesn’t know how much he can take. He feels spit and pre-come run along his chin as Cas keeps on thrusting, and fuck but if the solo isn’t turning Dean on even more. Not that the entire song isn’t a turn-on, but that isn’t really the point. Cas loosens his hold a bit at some point, pulling on Dean’s hair. Not that Dean needed that to know that Cas is this close. He doesn’t move an inch, his knees firmly planted on the ground. Cas comes sometime in the middle of the last stanza and Dean doesn’t move until he’s almost choking, and by then the entire lower half of his face is a mess and he’s hard as a rock, but fuck if it wasn’t worth it.
He doesn’t have the time to say anything though, because after Cas takes a couple of deep breaths he’s on his knees as well, working Dean’s jeans open until he can get his hand inside Dean’s underwear. Long, warm fingers wrap around his cock then, and then Cas’s other hand grabs behind Dean’s neck, bringing him forward. Dean already felt harder than he can remember being in the last ten years or so, but then Cas starts jacking him off with fast, regular strokes just as Cas starts licking away the mess on his face and that’s it. He couldn’t hold on for more even if he wanted, and so he lets go and comes with a shudder against Cas’s hand just as Cas’s lips cover his own in a kiss that might go down as the filthiest he has ever shared with anyone.
Not that he minds.
His head falls on Cas’s shoulder as he takes deep breaths, the both of them still on their knees. He laughs softly as he hears Black Dog being played, but right now he couldn’t stand up if he tried.
“Fuck, that was amazing,” he manages to say, and Cas nods against his forehead.
They stay like that for a while, until Cas stands up and hauls him by the elbow, the both of them conveniently not sticky - hell, angel mojo has its uses. “I think it still isn’t over. We should stay until the end, right?”
“Fuck yes,” Dean whispers back as he buttons his jeans back up, then he grabs Cas’s hand again (he’s too well-fucked and feeling too good to give a shit, and anyway everyone else won’t give a shit as well) and they run back into the lines of seats just as Heartbreaker starts.
--
“That was officially the best night of my damned life,” Dean states as soon as they’re out of the arena. The air is still damned cold but he feels so warm that he can’t give a damn, and Cas is full-on smiling which means that if he doesn’t agree, it comes close to it. And it’s so good to see Cas as happy as he’s feeling. They should do this kind of stuff more often. Maybe without the time-traveling business.
“Well, I will have to compliment you on your musical taste. I thought the bassist was quite capable,” Cas answers back, and alright, this is officially the best night of Dean’s life indeed.
“What, you also agree with me now? You just gained a lot of points with me.”
“That’s heartwarming.”
“And that was real sarcasm. Am I dreaming?”
Cas doesn’t answer but rather comes closer and kisses him again, slow and soft and pretty much amazing, and Dean wonders if they really couldn’t contemplate sticking around this decade a while longer.
“We can’t,” Cas sighs, and that was enough to ruin the good mood. Damn. Couldn’t he have kept his thoughts on another side of the tracks? Disadvantages of relationships with someone who reads your mind.
Then again, Dean doesn’t have any intention to have the night ruined. And he has all the intention to get the mood back on the right track.
“You know what? We might have to, but since from what I gathered this is my night, I’d have a proposition for you.”
“I would hear it.”
“Good. So, it started awesome and it ended beyond the realm of that, and you can rest assured that this concert will be the last thing I talk about on my deathbed, so while we can’t exactly hope to top it… now we might search for a nice room, possibly not my usual brand of motel, stay in there until tomorrow morning and then you can bring me back to our right time and you can fly off. Even if I’d rather keep you chained in the panic room,” he adds mostly in order to lighten up the situation, and Cas does smile a little at that.
“I think I would let you,” he sighs back.
“I could take you seriously, you know. So, what about it?”
“I like your plan,” Cas answers. “We should find ourselves a room then.”
“Good. Let’s do just that. And by the way?”
“Yes?”
“If you disappear for a month again, next time I want ACDC’s original lineup.”
Cas rolls his eyes in a way that’s more fond than anything else and then grabs Dean’s elbow and drags him forward. “Very well, I’ll take note of that. But you don’t need for me to be gone that long. Will you ever learn that if you want something, you should ask for it? I doubt I would refuse.”
Dean knows that Cas is answering a completely different statement, but he isn’t surprised at Cas’s ability to read through Dean’s own lines anymore.
And rather than having another moment, he’d prefer to kiss Cas as stupidly as he deserves into that very convenient wall just on their side.
Finding a room can wait, for now.
End.
Title: out on the tiles
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: if you don't care for Led Zeppelin this might not be your thing.
Spoilers: implied that it's set after S6 is done, though spoilers would be until 6x12 specifically. Anyway references most of the major S6 plot points.
Word Count: ~7000
Summary: wherein Castiel brings both he and Dean in 1975 to see Led Zeppelin.
A/N: written for the d_hearts_c exchange. My prompt was: 34. Sam tells Castiel that giving a gift to someone you love is a Valentine's tradition. Since Castiel is unsure of what kind of gift would be appropriate or appreciated, Sam suggests he stick to things that he knows Dean likes. So Castiel decides to take Dean back to April 15, 1977, to watch Led Zeppelin perform live in St. Louis. I made it 1975 rather than 1977 because of matters that just someone with OCD would have taken into account (like that in '77 there weren't apparently encores because someone threw bottles on stage), but for the rest I should have covered everything. I had wanted to write something along the lines of this for ages so I just hope it fits the bill. :D Title from a Led Zeppelin song, which I'm sure is very surprising.
At times, Castiel almost wishes he never even thought about going back to Heaven after being resurrected for the second time. Not only he spends two years dealing with a civil war, but he doesn’t even get to enjoy the results after it’s over. Or well. Mostly. It’s not exaggerating; it’s the plain truth. It was mostly over after he finally managed to defeat Raphael for good, and at least he had convinced Balthazar and enough others to come on his side. But he had come out the final battle with enough wounds that it had ended with Balthazar leaving him on Bobby Singer’s couch (Raphael had trapped him inside his vessel before the last battle had begun), where Castiel had stayed for the following two weeks. Which weren’t that pleasurable, except for that moment during the second week when Dean had actually apologized to him for having pretty much disregarded Castiel’s impending matters in Heaven for the previous past year. (Then Castiel had apologized himself for having been maybe too harsh, and it ended up in kissing on the couch. Right, that had been pretty much the only highlight of the last two years, especially since Castiel had assumed that his and Dean’s relationship wasn’t going to go back to that, after everything that happened.)
So he had promised to ‘stick around’ more, and he had thought that he’d be able to be on Earth often enough anyway.
Wrong.
Castiel loves having free will, he does, but not when he has to spend his time chasing rogue angels who decided that they can try everything since they found out that there’s the option. Clearly as soon as Balthazar stops with it (mostly) everyone else has to follow his example. Result: he has been trying to keep Heaven under control without actually denying free will to the other angels, it takes a lot more time than he’d have thought and he isn’t staying on Earth as much as he’d like. It’s still more than it used to be, but not enough.
Then last day Balthazar has suggested him to ‘just take a stupid sabbatical, brother, you look wiped’, and Castiel is almost tempted to do that. Except that the idea of coming back to what would probably be utter chaos is enough to make him decide against it.
Anyway, he deserves a break, if anything, and so he wills himself to Bobby Singer’s living room. He was half-hoping to find Dean, mostly because lately he hasn’t been around much, but there’s just Sam doing some research.
“What - Cas, hi,” Sam says after jerking on his seat. “You’ll never not scare me,” he mutters then.
Castiel ignores that and takes a seat. “Hello, Sam.”
“I bet you wanted to see Dean, right?” Sam winks as he speaks, and Castiel gives him a nod.
“He’s with Bobby taking care of some vengeful spirit in Nebraska. I had stuff to catch up with and they said they could do it on their own, so… well, sorry, you probably were expecting to -”
“Sam, that’s fine. To be honest I was merely hoping to… take a break, as you’d say. If you don’t mind -”
“Hey, ‘course I don’t. Do you want a beer? I could use a break too anyway.”
Castiel nods gratefully and Sam goes to the kitchen, coming back with two bottles and handing Castiel one.
“Things aren’t that great up there, huh?”
“Understatement,” Castiel replies as he takes a drink.
“That bad? One would think that with Purgatory off limits, Raphael out of the picture and everything else taken care of, you’d get a bit of down time.”
“I hadn’t thought about a lot of consequences,” Castiel sighs back.
“What, too much free will brings chaos?”
“That would be it, yes. If my only other alternative to keep order wasn’t Balthazar I think I’d have left already,” he confesses, and to be entirely truthful it feels nice to just talk to someone who isn’t involved in Heaven’s business for once.
Sam nods and takes a drink as well, and then Castiel realizes that it’s been a month since he last visited.
“Can I ask you a question, Sam?”
“Shoot.”
“How is Dean? I… I would have checked, but this last month has been... hectic, to say the least.”
Sam leans back in his chair and bites his lip. “Do you want the entire truth?”
Castiel just stares at him and doesn’t dignify Sam with an answer.
“Right, sorry. Well, he pretends it’s all awesome and shit, and he’s okay, I mean, considering the past three years it’s the best I’ve seen him being, but at some point he had too much to drink, he spilled some stuff that he probably didn’t want to spill, and I just - man, I think that he’s getting worried that you aren’t going to show up anymore or something. It’s not even your fault, he knows that you have shit to deal with, it’s just that - I don’t even know how I should put it, damn -”
“I understand,” Castiel answers, wishing that he had managed to visit even for a short time. He usually doesn’t bother if he knows that he won’t have at least a couple of hours, but maybe he should reconsider it. He almost longs for when he was on his way to falling - his existence was a lot more miserable, but at least they had all the time they could manage. He knows that Dean always thinks that one day Castiel will just fly off to Heaven for good, and he wishes that he could explain Dean that he won’t, but it’s not the time to dwell on what he regrets.
“Do you think you can stay here until tomorrow? They should be back by evening.”
Castiel sighs and shakes his head. “Probably not. I don’t trust anyone to take care of things, and considering what was going on when I left, I’m not sure I could wait that long.”
“What’s up?”
“Balthazar had decided to buy souls when you first met him, but at least he kept them for himself.”
“Do you mean there’s some rogue angel buying souls and… selling them to someone else?”
“A demon we still couldn’t track down,” Castiel sighs. “But I really wish I could do something to make up for all the time I’m not visiting. Even more so if Dean is getting worried.”
Sam bites his lip like he’s thinking about something but isn’t sure about saying it.
“Sam? What are you thinking?”
“If I actually tell you and you end up agreeing, Dean will probably kill me.”
“Considering all the effort he puts in keeping you alive, I very much doubt it.”
“Well, it’s Valentine’s Day next week,” Sam shrugs. “You know how it is, right?”
“I very much doubt that your brother would enjoy heart-shaped boxes full of chocolate for a gift. Or any other thing that you usually exchange.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t going to tell you to buy him a gigantic teddy bear. I don’t think you’re in the kind of relationship that implies any of you buying the usual Valentine’s Day crap. Just, why don’t you think something up and organize… I don’t know, a nice evening for him? Doing whatever you think he’d like. It doesn’t mean that it has to be a pink heart-shaped box, right?”
Castiel frowns and then nods, weighing his options. It isn’t a bad idea, and while it won’t change much, maybe at least he’ll manage to show Dean that he hasn’t forgotten about the both of them being in a relationship. (Castiel is perfectly aware of how it works - that’s how he knows that he’s doing it completely wrong, by human standards.)
“That’s sound advice,” he says as he finishes his beer. “Do you have any advice? I need to be sure it’s something he would really enjoy.”
“Well, he hasn’t had much fun lately, all things considered. Pick a place and go out for dinner?”
“Eating together? That doesn’t sound very… thoughtful.”
“Yeah, I figure that anyone could come up with asking someone else out for dinner. Then again I doubt either of you would go… I don’t know, dancing or something of the kind.”
Castiel is half-sure that Sam must have seen complete dismissal in his eyes, because then he shakes his head and obviously tries to come up with some different idea.
“Why not a concert? Last time he attended one was probably years ago. Heck, it might have been that Metallica one I had to attend as well…”
“When was that?”
“When he got his GED. Metallica were playing like, one hour from where we lived at the time and I had got him a ticket, but our dad had ruled out Dean going alone because he was on the other side of the country and I was fourteen and of course I couldn’t be left alone, so I ended up getting Bobby to buy another ticket for me and we both went without telling Dad. It was kind of a blast, even if I hate Metallica, but I guess that yeah, that could work.” Sam has a slight smile over his face as he speaks, and Castiel assumes that it ha to have been a pleasant memory.
“I think it could be doable. Very well. So, ruling… Metallica out since he has seen them already, who would you suggest?”
“Man, gosh, I don’t know. Half of the bands he likes are dead and buried and the other half tours once every five years, and half of that half doesn’t even have the original line-up. In a perfect world I’d say you should try for Led Zeppelin, but it’s not like we’re in the seventies, right?”
Castiel can suddenly feel the corners of his lips curl up in a slight smile. “Sam, I believe that you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
Sam looks up at him, their eyes meet and then Sam blinks and nods in understanding, a small smile on his lips mirroring Castiel’s own.
“Right, I hadn’t taken that into account.”
“That’s settled then, but… I think I need your help. I figure that I should choose a date.”
“Yeah, they were around for ten years so there’s a lot of choice… but hey, that’s what the internet is for, right? Let’s see to pick the right one,” Sam says as he opens the laptop again, and Castiel moves to stand behind his shoulder.
Two hours later they have everything decided to the last detail, and Castiel feels way too pleased. But Sam looks pleased as well and if everything goes how it should, then things should work out nicely.
“Thank you,” Castiel says. “I’m not sure I could have managed all of that.”
“Hey, living with Dean all my life must have taught me something about Zeppelin, right?” Sam answers while leaning back on his seat. “So, we’ll see you on the fourteenth?”
“You will."
“Good. I won’t tell Dean that you showed up. But maybe you could, y’know, text him now and then. He might stop freaking out as much.”
Castiel nods and then clearly Balthazar has to warn him that he’s needed back in Heaven. What timing.
“I have to go. But I’ll make sure to be here next week.”
He leaves then, and God help him but he’s looking forward to a stupid human holiday now. At times he wonders if Heaven is really his home anymore.
**
Cas has been sending texts for a week now and it’s a damned good thing, because Dean was starting to think that he had fucked off again. Since it took them two years to get over that part, he’s pretty sure that whatever is between them wouldn’t have survived another blow of the kind, but apparently Cas just has the most insane stupid job that ever was.
Not that Dean envies him, fuck no, and he’s glad that at least Cas can get back into Heaven at all, but dammit, Dean would like it if for once he could spend some stupid quality time with him. Fuck, he always knew that long-distance relationships are doomed by default - there’s a reason he never gave it a try. Or a reason why it was never going to work with Lisa. Whatever. He hasn’t seen Cas for one month and a half by now and while Dean won’t say it out loud to anyone, heck no, it sucks. Badly. It’s not like he had fallen back straight into Bobby’s couch with Cas thinking that they’d get a house and a dog, but if they have to do this, he’d like to do it right. Not to mention that he’ll never shake away that stupid voice in his head telling him to just quit it, probably Cas has understood that he really deserves better.
Then Cas started texting and so Dean can’t say that he doesn’t have a proof that Cas does give a shit. Still, texts aren’t the real thing.
Also, today is stupid Valentine’s Day and Sam is spending his time casting glances around like he’s expecting someone to appear out of thin air any second. Which is making Dean feel weird as hell, because it’s not like Cas will ever show up for a stupid made-up holiday of everything, and it’s not like Dean wants to go on a date and buy chocolates. Also it shouldn’t be Sam worrying about it anyway. Then again they’re still at Bobby’s without a case and Dean is getting bored out of his mind. He manages to kill a few hours with the umpteenth Dr. Sexy rerun he catches, and he ignores Sam pretending to feel pain as soon as he realizes what Dean is watching.
So it’s pretty much a day like any other except that Cas suddenly appears out of thin air in the middle of the season two finale, and why the hell Sam looks relieved when Cas does show up?
“Hi Cas,” Sam says, and now he sounds like he’s trying to hold back laughter. Cas nods at him and then turns to Dean, and he’s… smirking. Downright smirking.
This isn’t making any goddamn sense.
“Well, about time you showed up,” Dean mutters. “So, what’s the occasion?”
“I have a free evening,” Cas deadpans while moving closer. “And I wish to spend it with you, if you don’t have more pressing matters.”
Dean rolls his eyes and shuts the tv off. “Cas, the hell? I haven’t seen you in almost two months, Dr. Sexy can wait if we can catch up.”
He says catch up trying to sound at least half-seducing, but Cas just keeps on staring at him for a handful of seconds and then he gives him a short nod. “Good. Then I need you to come with me.”
“Hey, hey, can’t we drive?” Dean asks as soon as Cas raises his hand.
“Not this time,” Cas answers before pressing his fingers to Dean’s forehead.
When Dean blinks, he’s sure that he’s hallucinating.
It’s definitely dark, and it’s damn cold. Or well, it is until a coat appears on him out of nowhere. But okay, it’s February, that’s not the problem.
The problem is that most of the people he’s seeing are dressed like Hair stand-ins, and that he can’t possibly be standing in front of what he’s standing.
“Cas.”
“Dean?”
“Where the hell are we? That looks like the St. Louis Arena.”
“That’s because we are in St. Louis.”
“We can’t be there. They demolished it some ten years ago!”
Cas honest to God smirks before nodding again. “Maybe you should ask me which day is it.”
“… Cas? Which day is it?” Dean asks, trying to see where Cas is aiming here.
“February 16th, 1975,” Cas answers.
“Wait. Wait, what -” Dean never finishes the sentence because then Cas fishes inside his pockets and hands Dean a couple of tickets.
Dean takes them with shaking hands and as soon as he reads what’s written on the stubs, he pinches himself.
When he’s sure that he isn’t dreaming, he looks at the tickets again.
“You’re shitting me.”
“I wouldn’t have gone through all this effort just to make fun of you,” Cas answers, sounding completely serious.
“You’ve bought freaking Led Zeppelin tickets?” Dean almost shouts, feeling too stunned to do anything else. “You show up on goddamn Valentine’s Day and… oh,” Dean keeps on before stopping abruptly and getting it.
Cas moves closer and a warm hand closes around Dean’s elbow. Dean raises his head from his pink and cream colored ticket with Swan Song written on the bottom and looks at Cas. He’s staring at Dean almost fondly, a warm light in his gaze, and Dean is pretty sure that they’re about to have a moment. It strangely doesn’t feel as daunting as it should.
“I know that long absences never were what you had in mind for… for this. And they weren’t what I had in mind as well, but I can’t do anything about it for now. I also know that you keep on doubting where I stand, which is also my fault -”
“Cas, come on, you know you can’t help that, it isn’t -”
“Dean. Let me finish. I can’t promise that things will change soon, as much as I’d like to, but at the same time I wanted to make a point this time. I know you still think that one day I’ll stop coming back, and don’t try to deny it.”
Dean was about to interrupt, but he closes his mouth and lets Cas go on. Damn. They’re really having a moment. In St. Louis. In 1975. Then Cas’s hand reaches up and cups Dean’s cheek and okay, right, he has to take deep breaths here or he won’t be able to stand Cas’s stare much longer.
“So wait, you decided to come up with the most impossible date in the existence of ever just to make up for lost time?” Dean half-jokes, but he’s pretty sure that he isn’t kidding anyone here. His voice is shaking, dammit.
“I was assured that you’d have appreciated.”
“Man, what? You’re wasting energy to bring me to see my favorite band, what makes you think I’m not appreciating here?”
“Why should it be a waste of energy if it makes you happy?” Cas deadpans back, completely serious, and Dean has no freaking idea of what he should do here. He’s tempted to kiss Cas stupid and give everyone a show, but maybe it isn’t just the case, so he just moves closer to Cas and doesn’t even try to stop grinning.
“All right then. Damn, if I had known I’d have at least put my Zeppelin shirt, I’m seriously not fit -”
Suddenly he feels something like a tickle and when he looks down he’s wearing said shirt. Cas is downright smirking and Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, thanks for the wardrobe change. Though maybe you should have one too.”
Cas tilts his head just slightly. “Excuse me?”
“Cas, that’s a rock concert. No one would go in a suit. It isn’t even comfortable.”
Cas, rather than answering, starts looking around them and then stares for a handful of seconds at this guy making out with a girl in a corner; when Dean turns back to look at Cas, he’s wearing jeans, comfortable boots and the same Grateful Dead shirt that Dean can see on the guy. The coat hasn’t changed but that’s alright, it’d feel massively weird if Cas wore something else.
“Let’s go?” Dean asks.
“Lead the way.”
Dean bites his tongue to kill the urge to laugh and they go towards the arena. He clutches the ticket in his hand like it’d disappear if he loosens that hold.
--
“Holy shit, this is huge,” Dean whispers as they get inside and search for their seats. He knew that it was supposed to be big, but not this big. It probably can hold some ten thousand people at least, but he’s sure that it’d be the minimum. And damn, it’s not like he has ever been inside an arena of this kind; that Metallica gig they had attended was in a way smaller venue, and it’s not like he has ever gone to hockey or baseball games.
“Dean? Is there a problem?” Cas asks a couple of minutes after Dean stops to just stare around.
“What? No. Sorry. Got overwhelmed for a second. Go ahead, I might be getting lost already.”
Turns out that Cas picked some pretty awesome tickets. They’re in the first row of seats next to the stage, meaning that while neither of them is going to get smashed in the pit they’ so will have a pretty awesome view.
“Woah, since when are you an expert on good seats?”
“I’m not. Me and Sam looked up a prospect of the arena and then he advised me on where we should sit.”
“And then what, you went to the seventies and managed to find the ones you wanted?”
“I wasn’t going to do it wrong.”
Clearly. No one would do shit half-assed, if it means bringing time travel into it.
Then it finally hits Dean. He’s sitting in a long-demolished arena in 1975 and he’s going to see his fucking favorite band which actually disbanded when he was two and - and that’d be because Cas wanted to be extra-nice to him. When he probably doesn’t care either way about Led Zeppelin.
Dean resolves to never doubt Cas’s commitment again and to show exactly how much he’s appreciating as soon as it’s over. And then something else dawns on him and he loses half of his good mood.
“What if they call you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if there’s some urgency in Heaven or shit. I mean, it’s happened -”
Cas rolls his eyes and grips Dean’s wrist so hard that it almost hurts.
“Dean. I left orders not to disturb me this evening even if Lucifer breaks free from his cage. Stop worrying already.”
Dean nods, left too speechless to say anything, and figures that he could take a look around. The arena is almost full by now, and he decides to see who else is in the audience at least in their section. Most people around him are around twenty and with way longer hair than his own, which makes him feel strangely old even if technically they’re older than he is (heck, he wasn’t even born in 1975). It’s so fucking weird.
“Man, I feel old.”
“Nonsense.”
“I know, I just - nevermind. Damn, when is it going to start? Because I’m starting to get itchy here.”
“Patience,” Cas smirks back. Then Dean notices a couple behind them making out, and they’re pretty loud. He sort of wishes he could do it as well but as liberal as the setting is, maybe it’s better not to push it. Or not with the lights on, anyway.
They wait another thirty minutes or so before the lights are turned off except for the ones pointed at the stage and damn. It’s really happening. A guy with a microphone comes out on stage and starts saying shit that Dean doesn’t really process, not when at some point he has said Page, Plant, Jones and Bonham in the same sentence. Then everything goes dark and it stays dark for a short while. They can only hear the crowd screaming and a couple chords here and there, until lights on the stage are turned on and damn damn damn there they are.
Everything is bathed in a red/orange light, and everyone’s already on stage; before he can process that there’s Robert Plant in the same building as he is, he recognizes the first chords to Rock n’ Roll and he’s sure he’s going to pass away before this is over. Then everyone seated next to them is up and moving and singing, and he can’t exactly stay seated so he does the same and then takes Cas’s elbow and drags him up as well. Thankfully Cas takes off the coat so at least he doesn’t look too awkward, but for a second he looks completely out of place. Then he shakes his head at Dean in the universal gesture of just have fun, I’ll deal with this, and Dean feels bad at leaving him to his own devices but dammit if he’s going to lose his only chance ever to sing along to Rock n’ Roll at a Zeppelin concert.
When it’s done they move on to Sick Again, which while awesome isn’t fundamental in Dean’s book, or at least not as fundamental that he can’t check on how Cas is doing. He’s obviously trying to copy the movements of the girl sitting next to him, who doesn’t seem to be that comfortable in the first place, but he’s moving enough to give the impression to know what he’s doing, so Dean turns his eyes back on the stage. No but damn, there’s Jimmy Page wearing the clothes he wore in The Song Remains the Same. How is he even still standing, Dean doesn’t know, but he can’t just tear his eyes away from the stage. He goes from Plant to Page to Jones to Bonham unable to decide on one, but heck, it’ll be so worth it when he gets a headache. He manages to keep it straight during Over the Hills and Far Away, during which he totally accepts a beer that the guy next to him hands over (said guy is in tears and is screaming that this is the best day of his goddamn life and he just wants to share how awesome he feels, and Dean can’t disagree on that), which is also good if not cool. Then there’s a moment of pause before they go into In My Time of Dying, or what used to be one of Dean’s favorites before he actually died. He doubts he has ever listened to it since, and it sucks because it’s a damned good song. Also he doesn’t need to freak out here of all -
Suddenly he feels Cas slam into his side, there’s a hand closed around his hip and the both of them don’t even seem too suspicious, pressed together: heck, everyone in the arena is more or less attached to the hip. He glances at Cas, who gives him a short nod and then leans closer.
“Enjoy yourself,” he half-screams into Dean’s ear when he realizes that the music is too loud, and… well, he’s right. Fuck it, Dean thinks, he might have his reasons to freak out but there’s Cas right next to him, that song rocks and he isn’t going to die again right now, so he might as well stop giving a shit.
It’s easier than he’d have thought, and he gets through the ten minutes of that song without flashes or wanting to vomit. He’s almost disappointed when it goes into The Song Remains the Same. Cas’s hand stays where it is, though, and Dean decides that he doesn’t want to change the situation.
And damn but he can’t stop staring at Jimmy Page’s hands during the next one. He stares at them enough that he doesn’t notice Cas moving his fingers against his thigh following the rhythm. It ends too soon for his tastes though, and then there’s a short pause before they go into the next song.
Which is The Rain Song, and the couple behind them starts making out loudly again as soon as they realize what is being played. Suddenly half of the people around them wrap around each other or start to kiss, and in one case to cry, and Dean sits back down since no one is jumping or screaming. Which feels nice, after forty minutes of standing up. He closes his eyes after the first stanza, just to try how it feels.
It is the summer of my smiles - flee from me Keepers of the Gloom.
Speak to me only with your eyes, it is to you I give this tune.
Ain't so hard to recognize - these things are clear to all from time to time
Talk, talk - I've felt the coldness of my winter
I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us...
But I know that I love you so
Everything sounds perfectly clear since there’s as much silence as it gets in the arena, and then he feels a hand tentatively covering his own. He opens his eyes and turns to Cas just as Robert Plant sings, this is the wonder of devotion, and… Cas is still looking at him in that way that is open and sincere and with feelings showing just through his eyes, and damn if this isn’t another moment. But as Dean turns his hand over and threads his fingers with Cas’s, he can’t give a shit. No one said that having a moment once in a while is a bad thing, and no one is here to see them anyway.
Then it’s over, and Dean will admit just to himself that he wished it had lasted longer. Then he changes idea because Kashmir starts and he’s standing again along with everyone else, and spends the following ten minutes feeling like he’s died and gone to Heaven, or what Heaven is supposed to feel like in his book. It flows like the four of them are pieces made to fit together and make the most beautiful music that he has ever heard. At more than one point he feels like there’s sound running under his skin and making his blood boil, like it feels with sensation during that kind of sex which is awesome enough to bring you there. It’d be a good analogy anyway for what he’s feeling right now. As the song winds down he wishes he could just back Cas up against a wall and kiss him stupid while the concert is still going on. Pity that he can’t.
He sits down again during No Quarter. He feels almost drained, in the good way, and that’s when he actually notices that Cas is spending most of his time staring at John Paul Jones; his gaze shifts whenever he moves. Dean is about to ask Cas if he has a thing for people that aren’t usually in the spotlight, but the music is too loud and it’d be too complicated of a conversation to have right now and so he leans back, puts a hand on Cas’s thigh and keeps his eyes on the stage.
He stands up throughout all of Trampled Underfoot, and then everyone except for John Bonham leaves the stage and Dean can’t help it.
“Pay attention during this one,” he shouts at Cas, “that’s a proof that men can do miracles.”
Cas looks skeptical, but he turns his attention to John Bonham all the same.
Twenty minutes later, Moby Dick is over and Cas looks… well, not starstruck, but as impressed as he’ll ever get for something not supernatural related.
“That wasn’t human,” he shouts at Dean as people clap so loud that he’s barely audible, and well, you can’t blame Dean for having a fit of laughter that stops just when Dazed and Confused starts, can you?
Dean keeps on stealing glances at his right when he isn’t singing along though, and then he actually realizes that Cas looks like he’s genuinely enjoying himself here. He isn’t joining in whatever singing’s going on at the moment, but he doesn’t move awkwardly anymore and he’s looking at the band like he’s really interested instead of pretending to be.
It makes Dean strangely happy, it’s not like the two of them have done much together that they both enjoyed fully (except for sex, but that’s another question), and they never really had gone somewhere to have fun just for the heck of it. (The brothel doesn’t count - Cas was supposed to be dead in hours.) And the fact that it’s happening here and now - Dean really, really wants to show how appreciative he is and not just by rubbing his hip against Cas’s.
There’s silence after Dazed and Confused is over, though, and then just after he sits down he hears the first chords to Stairway to Heaven and - damn.
It never was his favorite Zeppelin song, but it’s still goddamn Stairway to Heaven, and he’s hearing it live, and there’s Jimmy Page in the spotlight and everything is so quiet even if the air thrums with energy. He doesn’t know that he’s crying until he brings a hand to his face a short while after Robert Plant joins in and starts to sing and Dean feels the wetness, and at the same time he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.
Fuck, he’s in St. Louis listening to Led Zeppelin playing Stairway to Heaven with a real angel at his side and - and it’s too much.
“Dean?” he sees Cas mouth rather than hear, because he has realized that someone will probably kill him if he keeps his voice too loud.
He shakes his head and puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder, mouthing that it’s fine, it really is, and then Cas inches closer and their shoulders are touching. Cas’s hand sneaks around Dean’s hip again and if they don’t move until the guitar solo, no one says anything and Dean likes it too much to move himself. Until the solo starts, of course, because you just can’t stay on a seat at that point.
Then everything goes dark and it seems over but of course it isn’t, and Dean figures that it won’t be that bad if he screams himself hoarse with everyone else as all the arena cheers (and considering home many people are inside it - well, you get that it feels fucking wonderful). This until the lights turn on again and the opening riff to Whole Lotta Love starts.
At which Dean finally realizes that after having spent the last handful of songs glued to Cas and considering that this entire concert has felt out of this world amazing, he might not be able to wait until they find a bed.
Also. It’s Whole Lotta Love.
He grabs Cas’s arm and starts leading him up the stairs, dodging people here and there until they reach the door leading to one of the emergency exits. He sees a guy and a girl rutting against each other farther down, her leg wrapped around his hip, and then he smirks and pushes Cas against the wall.
“Dean, what -” Cas starts, and at least they’re far enough that they can hear each other.
“I decided I can’t really wait to show you how much of a good time I’m having,” Dean says as he leans down.
“But - we can’t see from here, if -”
“Cas,” Dean says right in Cas’s ear so that he’s sure that it comes through. “I’ve spent three hours looking at the stage. Right now, I’d really like to look at you for a change. Also, you can’t exactly waste this song just standing there and taking a look around.”
And then he drops to his knees, his hands on Cas’s belt. There isn’t really more time for anything refined here, and it’s dark enough that no one will see them; Cas’s eyes are dark blue as he glances down at him, and since Cas isn’t wearing a belt Dean gets rid of jeans and underwear in a handful of seconds.
Way down inside, Robert Plant is singing right now. Dean smirks. Couldn’t be more appropriate, he thinks, and then he takes Castiel’s half-hard cock inside his mouth and sees to put that statement into practice. Also he’s pretty sure that he can work Cas up without a problem. He takes his time, sucks lightly on the head before running his tongue along the length, as much as he can. Cas moans and thrusts his hips forward, and he’s hard before the solo even starts. Dean can’t help feeling accomplished here; Cas’s hands reach his hair and he keeps Dean’s head still as he keeps on thrusting. His pupils are blown and Dean lets him, it’s not like Cas doesn’t know how much he can take. He feels spit and pre-come run along his chin as Cas keeps on thrusting, and fuck but if the solo isn’t turning Dean on even more. Not that the entire song isn’t a turn-on, but that isn’t really the point. Cas loosens his hold a bit at some point, pulling on Dean’s hair. Not that Dean needed that to know that Cas is this close. He doesn’t move an inch, his knees firmly planted on the ground. Cas comes sometime in the middle of the last stanza and Dean doesn’t move until he’s almost choking, and by then the entire lower half of his face is a mess and he’s hard as a rock, but fuck if it wasn’t worth it.
He doesn’t have the time to say anything though, because after Cas takes a couple of deep breaths he’s on his knees as well, working Dean’s jeans open until he can get his hand inside Dean’s underwear. Long, warm fingers wrap around his cock then, and then Cas’s other hand grabs behind Dean’s neck, bringing him forward. Dean already felt harder than he can remember being in the last ten years or so, but then Cas starts jacking him off with fast, regular strokes just as Cas starts licking away the mess on his face and that’s it. He couldn’t hold on for more even if he wanted, and so he lets go and comes with a shudder against Cas’s hand just as Cas’s lips cover his own in a kiss that might go down as the filthiest he has ever shared with anyone.
Not that he minds.
His head falls on Cas’s shoulder as he takes deep breaths, the both of them still on their knees. He laughs softly as he hears Black Dog being played, but right now he couldn’t stand up if he tried.
“Fuck, that was amazing,” he manages to say, and Cas nods against his forehead.
They stay like that for a while, until Cas stands up and hauls him by the elbow, the both of them conveniently not sticky - hell, angel mojo has its uses. “I think it still isn’t over. We should stay until the end, right?”
“Fuck yes,” Dean whispers back as he buttons his jeans back up, then he grabs Cas’s hand again (he’s too well-fucked and feeling too good to give a shit, and anyway everyone else won’t give a shit as well) and they run back into the lines of seats just as Heartbreaker starts.
--
“That was officially the best night of my damned life,” Dean states as soon as they’re out of the arena. The air is still damned cold but he feels so warm that he can’t give a damn, and Cas is full-on smiling which means that if he doesn’t agree, it comes close to it. And it’s so good to see Cas as happy as he’s feeling. They should do this kind of stuff more often. Maybe without the time-traveling business.
“Well, I will have to compliment you on your musical taste. I thought the bassist was quite capable,” Cas answers back, and alright, this is officially the best night of Dean’s life indeed.
“What, you also agree with me now? You just gained a lot of points with me.”
“That’s heartwarming.”
“And that was real sarcasm. Am I dreaming?”
Cas doesn’t answer but rather comes closer and kisses him again, slow and soft and pretty much amazing, and Dean wonders if they really couldn’t contemplate sticking around this decade a while longer.
“We can’t,” Cas sighs, and that was enough to ruin the good mood. Damn. Couldn’t he have kept his thoughts on another side of the tracks? Disadvantages of relationships with someone who reads your mind.
Then again, Dean doesn’t have any intention to have the night ruined. And he has all the intention to get the mood back on the right track.
“You know what? We might have to, but since from what I gathered this is my night, I’d have a proposition for you.”
“I would hear it.”
“Good. So, it started awesome and it ended beyond the realm of that, and you can rest assured that this concert will be the last thing I talk about on my deathbed, so while we can’t exactly hope to top it… now we might search for a nice room, possibly not my usual brand of motel, stay in there until tomorrow morning and then you can bring me back to our right time and you can fly off. Even if I’d rather keep you chained in the panic room,” he adds mostly in order to lighten up the situation, and Cas does smile a little at that.
“I think I would let you,” he sighs back.
“I could take you seriously, you know. So, what about it?”
“I like your plan,” Cas answers. “We should find ourselves a room then.”
“Good. Let’s do just that. And by the way?”
“Yes?”
“If you disappear for a month again, next time I want ACDC’s original lineup.”
Cas rolls his eyes in a way that’s more fond than anything else and then grabs Dean’s elbow and drags him forward. “Very well, I’ll take note of that. But you don’t need for me to be gone that long. Will you ever learn that if you want something, you should ask for it? I doubt I would refuse.”
Dean knows that Cas is answering a completely different statement, but he isn’t surprised at Cas’s ability to read through Dean’s own lines anymore.
And rather than having another moment, he’d prefer to kiss Cas as stupidly as he deserves into that very convenient wall just on their side.
Finding a room can wait, for now.
End.