Supernatural, Dean/Castiel - "Concuss."
I technically missed posting on Friday, but I haven't gone to bed yet, so it's still _my_ Friday. this was mariana_oconnor's prompt: Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, Angry sex turns to make up sex and I really cannot fucking believe I actually wrote Dean and Cas. a thousand words, on the dot.
crap, I totally forgot to mention that there's spoilers for this week's ep in here! so sorry, my bad. :( post-"Point of No Return."
Concuss
It hasn't been long enough for Dean to forget what it feels like to have Castiel throw him against a wall; he didn't like it the first time and he thinks somehow anticipation morphing into memory is making him enjoy it even less now. He's flinched before Castiel has so much as raised his fist and he hates _that_, too, because goddammit he finally found where he mislaid his balls and said no to Michael and he is not about to be _this_ angel's bitch, either. He doesn't think that he can hurt Cas but he's damned if he's not going to give it the Winchester try (ie, shoot first, get Sammy to patch up his broke ass later).
He actually manages to slap Castiel in the face and Cas looks surprised and angry and _hurt_ and Dean's starting to think that maybe this is going to be _it_, the one he can't take back, but seriously, he's tired of getting his ass kicked by angels and he didn't think he'd actually miss your run-of-the-mill demon but he never did know when he had it good.
Instead of hitting him back, though, Cas grabs his face, and Dean's startled enough to not know what the fuck is going on, except maybe Cas is going to bite him or do angels do the Vulcan mindwipe thing because really, who knows this shit? He's suspected for a while that someone is just making it all up as they go along, and then he's being kissed, and, really, seriously, there's that second of "wow I did _not_ see that coming" before he realizes that Cas is ripping his clothes off and yeah, _so_ not this angel's bitch.
He doesn't hit him again, just pushes him back, shoving down the ridiculous trench over Cas' shoulders and pinning his arms, and he knows that none of this is happening on _his_ schedule but Cas goes with it, lets him - allows, humours, _whatever_ - take off his tie and unbutton his shirt and hi, that's a lot of skin right there and he doesn't even _know_ what the fuck because hi, angelic being, son of God, all of that stuff but fuck it, Cas _started it_ and Dean has never been one to back down from a challenge.
He sees the look in Cas' eyes in time to hold his breath and before his lashes so much as flutter they're out of that alley and inside, probably back at the motel, why not, he's gotten laid in much worse places than this and, hell, when it comes right down to it it's not even his first time _with an angel_ so yeah, he's down with going with this, now. Because he has a choice, he does, neither one of them is interested in pretending anymore that this wasn't always in the gameplan, at least on the periphery, at least a possibility. Obviously, he hasn't been the only one thinking about it since those words came out of his mouth, and really, Castiel always knew that he wasn't kidding.
And maybe, just maybe, Cas has also seen the light, and decided that if the world is going to end _anyway_, and they're all colossally, epically _fucked_ that there is nothing to do _but_ fuck, colossally, epically, like you're supposed to when the world is ending. Because _this_ is pretty much epic and, okay, "bitch" might be pushing it a little but Dean is aware that he is not shutting up, not internalizing anymore, and if he's doing a little more than suggesting he's still not quite flat-out begging. Mostly because Cas doesn't _need_ him to, but still. Maybe he's missed Cas, the way that they used to be when they always knew everything about each other a second before any of it actually existed, when he could feel it when Cas took whatever passed for a breath when you were a creation that didn't fully understand the concept, when his brand seared like the heat and fire of being reborn every time _he_ breathed, and he's seen what Castiel is out of the corner of his eyes and he's felt the possessive grace of those wings on his skin and there's something he's needed that's been gone for a really long time only it's back, now, as fresh as Castiel's handprints on his skin and that searing light that prickles Dean's eyes when he looks at him and he's thankful, he truly is, for this day and this breath and this feeling and maybe, just maybe, if the world ends tomorrow - or tonight, or _right now_ - then this is the best that it was ever going to get, anyway.
He wonders if it's the End when his skin explodes and his heart shatters, only he's still there when he opens his eyes, they both are, and this isn't Paradise, it's a no-tell in a backwater with peeling wallpaper and Cas is heavy on top of him, eyes closed, mouth closed, only Dean can _hear_ him, somewhere inside his mind less earthly growl than a quiet and steady rustle of restless wings, and he thinks, he knows, that if Cas moves in the next five minutes or two hours that he will track this angel down and kick his ass from here to judgement day.
"That's Sam," Cas says, a minute before Dean's phone rings. "He's worried."
"You know where he is?" Dean asks, surprised.
"No," Cas says, flatly. "But I've met him once or twice."
Dean actually chokes out a laugh, for the first time in what feels like forever. He doesn't answer the phone. There might be thirty-seven voicemails on there by the time he picks it up, but fuck it, let Sammy come here if he wants to know what's going on. And, if the world's ending and he doesn't notice, let it. He's had enough anticipation without a damn bit of payoff, and right now, _this_ is more important.
crap, I totally forgot to mention that there's spoilers for this week's ep in here! so sorry, my bad. :( post-"Point of No Return."
Concuss
It hasn't been long enough for Dean to forget what it feels like to have Castiel throw him against a wall; he didn't like it the first time and he thinks somehow anticipation morphing into memory is making him enjoy it even less now. He's flinched before Castiel has so much as raised his fist and he hates _that_, too, because goddammit he finally found where he mislaid his balls and said no to Michael and he is not about to be _this_ angel's bitch, either. He doesn't think that he can hurt Cas but he's damned if he's not going to give it the Winchester try (ie, shoot first, get Sammy to patch up his broke ass later).
He actually manages to slap Castiel in the face and Cas looks surprised and angry and _hurt_ and Dean's starting to think that maybe this is going to be _it_, the one he can't take back, but seriously, he's tired of getting his ass kicked by angels and he didn't think he'd actually miss your run-of-the-mill demon but he never did know when he had it good.
Instead of hitting him back, though, Cas grabs his face, and Dean's startled enough to not know what the fuck is going on, except maybe Cas is going to bite him or do angels do the Vulcan mindwipe thing because really, who knows this shit? He's suspected for a while that someone is just making it all up as they go along, and then he's being kissed, and, really, seriously, there's that second of "wow I did _not_ see that coming" before he realizes that Cas is ripping his clothes off and yeah, _so_ not this angel's bitch.
He doesn't hit him again, just pushes him back, shoving down the ridiculous trench over Cas' shoulders and pinning his arms, and he knows that none of this is happening on _his_ schedule but Cas goes with it, lets him - allows, humours, _whatever_ - take off his tie and unbutton his shirt and hi, that's a lot of skin right there and he doesn't even _know_ what the fuck because hi, angelic being, son of God, all of that stuff but fuck it, Cas _started it_ and Dean has never been one to back down from a challenge.
He sees the look in Cas' eyes in time to hold his breath and before his lashes so much as flutter they're out of that alley and inside, probably back at the motel, why not, he's gotten laid in much worse places than this and, hell, when it comes right down to it it's not even his first time _with an angel_ so yeah, he's down with going with this, now. Because he has a choice, he does, neither one of them is interested in pretending anymore that this wasn't always in the gameplan, at least on the periphery, at least a possibility. Obviously, he hasn't been the only one thinking about it since those words came out of his mouth, and really, Castiel always knew that he wasn't kidding.
And maybe, just maybe, Cas has also seen the light, and decided that if the world is going to end _anyway_, and they're all colossally, epically _fucked_ that there is nothing to do _but_ fuck, colossally, epically, like you're supposed to when the world is ending. Because _this_ is pretty much epic and, okay, "bitch" might be pushing it a little but Dean is aware that he is not shutting up, not internalizing anymore, and if he's doing a little more than suggesting he's still not quite flat-out begging. Mostly because Cas doesn't _need_ him to, but still. Maybe he's missed Cas, the way that they used to be when they always knew everything about each other a second before any of it actually existed, when he could feel it when Cas took whatever passed for a breath when you were a creation that didn't fully understand the concept, when his brand seared like the heat and fire of being reborn every time _he_ breathed, and he's seen what Castiel is out of the corner of his eyes and he's felt the possessive grace of those wings on his skin and there's something he's needed that's been gone for a really long time only it's back, now, as fresh as Castiel's handprints on his skin and that searing light that prickles Dean's eyes when he looks at him and he's thankful, he truly is, for this day and this breath and this feeling and maybe, just maybe, if the world ends tomorrow - or tonight, or _right now_ - then this is the best that it was ever going to get, anyway.
He wonders if it's the End when his skin explodes and his heart shatters, only he's still there when he opens his eyes, they both are, and this isn't Paradise, it's a no-tell in a backwater with peeling wallpaper and Cas is heavy on top of him, eyes closed, mouth closed, only Dean can _hear_ him, somewhere inside his mind less earthly growl than a quiet and steady rustle of restless wings, and he thinks, he knows, that if Cas moves in the next five minutes or two hours that he will track this angel down and kick his ass from here to judgement day.
"That's Sam," Cas says, a minute before Dean's phone rings. "He's worried."
"You know where he is?" Dean asks, surprised.
"No," Cas says, flatly. "But I've met him once or twice."
Dean actually chokes out a laugh, for the first time in what feels like forever. He doesn't answer the phone. There might be thirty-seven voicemails on there by the time he picks it up, but fuck it, let Sammy come here if he wants to know what's going on. And, if the world's ending and he doesn't notice, let it. He's had enough anticipation without a damn bit of payoff, and right now, _this_ is more important.