A Cold and Broken Hallelujah - Part 7
The time seems to be flying by, leaving Castiel fretful and out of sorts. He wants to see Dean again, but cannot think of a reason to give to Dean other than blurting out the whole situation. He is sure that attempting to do that will only make the whole situation worse, probably resulting in Dean refusing to talk with him at all and Castiel gaining a reputation as the weird angel who word vomits over everyone.
Gabriel, who has taken it upon himself to oversee the matter (if only because of the huge amount of amusement it is affording him), does his best to calm Castiel down. He prevents him from phone stalking Sam; if anyone is going to call up that tall drink of water it's going to be him. He keeps him busy practising his signing, sending him out to a local school as part of their 'Service to the Community' programme.
Then, two weeks before Castiel is supposed to appear in the Church before his Father, Sam calls to say that he is on his way up and that he would love to meet with Castiel and Gabriel. Castiel spends the next day pulling everything out of his wardrobe in a fretful attempt to find something that will make him 'appealing' to Dean. The sight of crumpled clothes causes him to phone Gabriel in a panic before he spends the next three hours calming himself down with a meditative bout of ironing and re-shelving.
Gabriel arrives a hour before their meeting with Sam and Dean, dressed casually in dark denims and a green shirt that makes his eyes gleam a rich topaz. He hands Castiel a wine-red shirt and a half-bottle of whiskey.
“Drink that and calm down, little bro. Dean probably already thinks you're a strange little nerd angel, no reason to prove him right. And put the shirt on, that colour will make you look smoking.”
Several burning slurps later, Castiel lets out a sigh and finally seems to begin to relax. “It is just a meeting. It cannot go that wrong, can it? I just have to persuade Dean to come with me to the Church in two weeks and sing. Oh, why did I think this would work? Dean will never agree to this, why would he?” Castiel tilts the bottle to his lips and takes another couple of long swallows. The burn is smoother now, heat spreading pleasantly through him.
“Go. Change. Deep breaths. And pass me that bottle, if you're gonna gabble like this all night I'm gonna need a drink.”
Castiel frowns at Gabriel who returns the look with a sunny, innocent smile. Well, as innocent as Gabriel ever gets. Castiel hands over the bottle reluctantly and goes to change. He comes back out, smoothing his hands over the soft cotton, and Gabriel nods his approval. “Man, I have good taste. C'm'on then Cassie, let's go get you your man.”
“My name is Castiel.”
---II---
They have arranged to meet at a restaurant. Gabriel has assured Castiel that Sam had said it was just the sort that Dean liked and when they arrive Castiel lets out a sigh of relief. It's nice but not pretentious and the hostess is pleasant and friendly as she leads them to their table. Castiel asks for a glass of water, the whiskey from earlier still heating his stomach in a welcome fashion. He feels relaxed, the edge taken off his nerves.
That is until Dean walks in and the knot returns to Castiel's stomach and he feels his heart stutter nervously. Sam is not what Castiel expected. He had been expecting, well he didn't know what he had been expecting but this overwhelming impression of height and shoulders was not it. He does see the connection between them though, the slight dimple to the chin, the full lower lip. It's as if Sam is a sharper and more angled version of Dean. Cheekbones tilted a touch more, jaw that touch sharper.
Sam leans in to say something to Dean and Dean smiles in response and Castiel's heart stutters and stops for a brief moment. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the sight of white teeth and the pink of tongue as Dean smirks and licks his lips causes strange things to happen lower in Castiel's body. He wishes he had more whiskey.
The two Winchesters make their way over to the table and Castiel blinks in amazement as Gabriel rises to his feet. He knows it will be too subtle for Sam and Dean to notice, but he sees the flush that pinkens Gabriel's cheeks and he darts another curious gaze at Sam. Sam and Dean are staring at Gabriel, eyes wide and Castiel notices that Dean has dropped automatically into a defensive posture, moving slightly in front of his younger brother.
“You!”
/I thought we killed you/
“You're Gabriel? Not a trickster?”
Gabriel smirks awkwardly, “So you've discovered my dirty secret - I'm not strictly a Trickster. But I had my reasons at the time, well, before Dad stepped up and changed everything.” He half shrugs and turns to Dean, “And no, you didn't kill me.”
“You tried to kill Gabriel? How?” Castiel stares at the brothers in shock. “When? Why didn't you tell me?” He turns to Gabriel with that last question, but whips back round to watch Dean as he shrugs and signs, /We tried to stake him/
“You tried to stake him?” Castiel's voice almost rises out of his habitual growl, he's so surprised.
“Yeah, made some proper ash stakes and everything. Should have worked.” Sam kind of sounds glad that it didn't, eyes fixed on Gabriel.
“If I was actually a Trickster, yeah! But I'm not, so I'm still here and everything's awesome.” Gabriel gestures widely and beams, Sam snorts with amusement and then tries to look contrite. “So, should we apologise?”
“Nah, it's all good.” Gabriel sits back down and Sam sits down next down him which forces Dean to sit next to Castiel. The waitress comes back over and Sam asks for a water and a beer for Dean. Dean picks up the menu and scans its contents.
/We need to let angels take us out to eat more often. Did you see this/ He leans across and points at Sam's menu and Sam raises an eyebrow.
“Dean, as your little brother, in all good conscience, I am not going to order that for you. Your arteries will thank me later.” Dean pouts and Sam just smirks.
“I'm gonna get you the Caesar salad and the chicken? With a baked potato?” Castiel watches amused as Dean leans across again and smacks his little brother in the arm. The amusement disappears as Dean turns to him, green eyes wide and as innocent as he can get them. /You'll be my friend? You won't let me starve or make me eat that stupid girl food?/
Dean leans into Castiel's space, runs his finger down Castiel's menu until he gets to the selection of burgers. His finger hovers over the Double with swiss cheese, onion rings and salsa before moving to the spicy fries. Castiel can feel the heat emanating from Dean's arm, can smell the subtle greenish scent of his aftershave. He can also feel Sam's glare from across the table.
“Maybe you could compromise and go for the chicken burger and the mixed wedges?” Dean looks thoughtful, the sweet potato, parsnip and potato wedges do sound nice.
/K. But can I get onion rings on the side?/
Castiel's gaze darts to Sam, before Dean grabs him by the wrist. /Sam is not my keeper. I was asking if you would order them for me, not whether I was allowed them./ Castiel blinks and nods. “Of course, Dean. I did not mean to imply...” The waitress interrupts them and Dean makes an obvious attempt at flirtatiousness, fixing her with his green eyes and letting his lips curve in a slow, sleepy, dirty smile as he looks her up and down. Sam orders Dean the chicken burger and the onion rings and Dean waves his half-empty bottle, turning his warmest smile on the waitress who flushes and rushes off.
When the waitress returns, Castiel asks for a bottle of wine. Sam and Gabriel are forced to carry the conversation, trying to bring their brothers into it. Dean gives a half-shrug and waves his fork before placing on the table /Can't talk and eat, Sam. Something you should try too./
Gabriel tries to include Castiel, but Castiel's answers are nervous and curt, swallowed down with wine. He would prefer to let Gabriel ramble about the time he ran into Dean and Sam. Sam laughs when he reminds them about the slow-dancing aliens and Castiel's gaze flicks to Dean, looking for that smile. It's spread broad across his face until he feels Castiel looking and it slips off, replaced by something that Castiel cannot identify. It may be nervousness but also possibly just indigestion.
The meal ends in an awkward fight for the bill until Gabriel just states that as the oldest one there, he'll pay and if the rest of them were going to act like children, he'd treat them as such. Castiel flushes, ashamed and heading towards drunk. Dean just shrugs and downs the last of his beer. They head out of the restaurant and Gabriel turns them to walk to a bar a couple of blocks away. He can't leave the evening like this, Castiel and Dean are barely looking at each other. He needs to smooth out whatever the problem is and spending more of the evening with Sam is just an added bonus.
However, the night seems to go downhill from there. Dean talks mainly to Sam, turning his back on Castiel, excluding him from the conversation until Sam finally grabs Dean's arm, drags him off into a quiet corner and says, “Dude, what on earth is up with you, you've been in a shitty mood since the restaurant. I thought you two were getting on.”
/He treats me like a girl/
“That's what this is about, the order thing in the restaurant? Dean, I treat you like that, you don't get that uptight about it with me.”
/But you're my brother, and he got me flowers and a hamper and books!/
“Okay, so he's a bit of a failure at the courting thing, but he's trying Dean, I think you should be grateful that someone's interested in your skanky ass.”
/Hey, there's nothing wrong with my ass./ Dean flicks a glance up at Sam, feeling stupidly guilty and a little ashamed of himself. /But maybe I have been a bit hard on him/ Sam grins and nods and Dean laughs silently and relaxes and suddenly the evening is going a whole lot better. Sam and Gabriel still lead the conversation but Castiel adds his own anecdotes, his dry humour making Dean smile more often and if Castiel feels the urge to punch Gabriel in his increasingly smug face, he swallows it down.
For some reason they all end up back at Gabriel's, 'Die Hard' on the TV, candy and popcorn and beer, Sam sprawled along the length of the sofa, head in Gabriel's lap, Castiel and Dean sprawled on the two beanbags. Dean leans over to get more popcorn, his head landing on Castiel's shoulder and it's so comfy he just leaves it there, smiling when Castiel's hand twists into his, fingers rubbing and wrapping around each other.
Neither of them notice Sam and Gabriel disappearing, until Castiel turns to ask Sam something and realises that they are no longer there. He turns back to Dean to ask him if he knows where they went just as Dean tries to reach for the last of the M&M's. Bodies collide and Castiel falls back on to the floor, Dean sprawled over the length of him. Castiel's breath hisses out of him and his eyes widen as Dean's darken, a soft pink tongue sliding over those plush lips and Castiel can't stop himself as his head tilts upwards, needing to taste that warm slick.
The kiss is short but heated until Castiel pulls back, head thumping to the carpet, eyes dark and wide as he stares up at Dean in silent question. Dean's mouth shapes Castiel's name before it fastens hungrily back on to Castiel's, tongue slicking deep, hips grinding down into Castiel's. Dean tastes of beer and chocolate and heat and Castiel wants to drown in the warmth of his mouth, wants to find if the rest of him tastes as delectable as that soft mouth.
Castiel is overwhelmed by the rush of feelings that swim through him, hormones and endorphins sparking off nerves, sending his pulse racing, blood flushing his cheeks, racing southwards and his hips arch up towards the pressure of Dean, needing something, anything. Castiel's lungs ache for air, the soft exchanges of breath between slick, heated kisses not enough and he brings his hands between them.
“Dean, Dean, we should...should...” Castiel pushes Dean upwards and away and Dean frowns. Castiel pulls himself to his feet and turns to meet Dean's gaze. Heat is being replaced by hurt and puzzlement and Castiel cuts off the rising confusion by grabbing Dean's hand and towing him towards the spare room. Dean's grin as he realises Castiel's intention is full of wicked promise and Castiel shivers with desire. Clothes are shed haphazardly, falling disregarded to the floor, and Dean runs a heated gaze over the pale lines of Castiel's body.
They fall on to the bed in a tangle of limbs, bodies arching and rubbing against each other. Castiel takes the time to lick and nibble at the freckles that gild Dean's collarbones, exulting in each gasp of breath of Dean makes. Then Dean wraps his fingers into the mess of Castiel's hair, letting the soft strands twine around his fingers as he hauls Castiel back to his mouth, licking into the heat of him, arching upwards at each moan he pulls, wrecked and gasping, from Castiel's lips.
Somehow, Castiel gets a hand in between them, wrapping talented fingers tentatively around both of them. He's never done anything like this before, never felt this urgent need but thankfully instinct takes over and he curls his fingers, sliding them over the slick head, down the firm shafts. Dean thrusts upwards into the touch. He can feel Castiel's hand wrapped around him, can feel the slicker slide of the velvet skin of his cock. He sucks Castiel's lower lip into his mouth and bites. Castiel groans and tightens his hand, hips stuttering and jerking, and then Dean is coming, hard and fast and surprising both of them. Castiel feels the warm slickness and tumbles over the edge behind him. He kisses Dean, slow and sleepy and soft until they both drift off, arms and legs and bodies entwined.
7.2
Dean wakes slowly the next morning, warm and cosy and well-rested. A faint headache tries to make its presence felt, but Dean knows hangovers and this one barely rates a groan. He burrows deeper under the covers, seeking out another hour of delicious sleep, and then realises that the bed isn't his. It doesn't smell like the laundry detergent he uses, it smells like sex and...Cas? Dean realises it smells like Cas because there is a warm body curled up next to him, knees brushing lightly against his thigh. Dean tilts his head and opens his eyes to see dark hair. He blinks and shifts back until Castiel's face comes into view, eyelashes dark against cheeks flushed a soft, sleepy pink.
Castiel looks innocent and wanton at the same time, face smooth with sleep, lips still swollen and pink from Dean's kisses. Memories come swirling back, Castiel's mouth heated against his, the rising spiral of pleasure. A soft smile curves Dean's lips. He stares at the angel in the bed, wondering how on earth they got from there to here, but realises he doesn't really care all that much now.
Cas (and when did he become Cas?) has become someone Dean wants to know just for himself. He wants to know what will make him smile, what will make him sad, if he likes scary movies, is he weird enough to like pineapple on his pizza? He wants to spend time with him finding these things out, wants to spend more time exploring that mouth, the soft curve of his belly, wants to find out what will make Cas moan, what will make him scream.
Dean thinks that this sudden rush of feelings should worry him. He's never done the chick-flick thing before, never wanted to. Make contact, fuck and then leave, that was the Winchester way. But things have changed, the world changed and finally Dean realises that maybe Sam has been right all along, maybe it is making things better. Not that he would ever tell Sam that.
Dean trails his glance over Cas again, and when he reaches his face he blushes as he finds Cas watching him, blue eyes dark, one eyebrow raised enquiringly. “So do I meet with your approval?” Dean nods, and then nods again more vigorously, adding a soft kiss so that Cas knows exactly how much he is appreciated. Dean smirks as this brings a soft flush to Castiel's cheeks and lowers his mouth again, dragging it slowly against Castiel's, nibbling and licking until the flesh is swollen and slick and flushed with blood.
Dean could kiss Castiel for hours, tracing his tongue over the soft curves, finding the sharp edge of teeth, the points of his incisors. He sucks Castiel's tongue into his mouth, tastes the warmth of it, moans as it curls around his own, twining and then pulling back in a teasing dance. He feels the soft brushes of Castiel's breath on his skin, hears the muffled gasps and moans of pleasure as they echo back and forth between their mouths. The rub of Castiel's stubble against his skin adds another layer to the build up of sensation. Dean slows it down, not wanting to get caught, wanting to keep this private for a little while longer. He pulls back a little, restraining the kisses into small, soft presses of mouth against mouth.
Castiel smiles happily at Dean, absorbs the quiet pleasure in the green eyes, the heat of Dean's skin pressed against his own. He shifts up the bed, curling his body into a more upright position.
“I did not dare hope that this could happen, that you would be interested, that we...” Castiel trails off with a blush, remembering the previous night.
Dean rolls over onto his back, grin wide as his hands come up. /Oh, I'm interested baby/ Dean smirks and somehow manages to convey the dirty tone of his words with slow, languid movements of his hands.
“And so you will come with me to the Church and stand beside me?”
/What?/
“My Father, our Father, asked us to prove that we could care for His creation, to show that we could make it care for us, to love one of us. He banished us until we could do that and then our Grace will be fully restored and we will be able to return to Heaven...”
Castiel trails off as Dean's expression darkens, his smile fading, the light vanishing from his eyes, leaving them shuttered and blank. He watches as Dean jerks himself from the bed, yanking his trousers on. Dean stops, button unfastened and glares at Castiel.
/This was just a line then. You all want to get home but daddy has said 'No!' and you need some schmuck to turn up in front of Dad and say 'Hey look, they're not all bad, this one's quite nice actually, made me feel real good.' And then you get to go home and we're left here, with all the bad guys out of the closet and no angels to protect us?/
Dean turns, searching for his shirt, dressing himself with quick jerky motions.
“No Dean, it's not like...” Castiel trails off, realising that yes, it is like that. Dean spins round to face the bed again, he can't find one of his socks, so he balls up the other and throws it hard at the floor.
/Yeah, I didn't think you could finish that. It's exactly like that. Well, you know what, I didn't need your help before, and I don't need it now. You can look somewhere else for some fool that will give you their heart on a plate./
Dean jerks his hands to a stop, slams them together in frustration, his mouth working angrily. He wants to yell at Castiel but he has spent so long in his self-imposed silence he cannot get the words out. He can feel all these emotions twisting inside of him, can feel hot tears burning at the back of his eyes and he yanks the door open. He wants to say something, needs to let Cas know much he hurts but the words are stuck inside of him and he settles for giving Castiel the finger, both of them, before he forces himself through the door and down the hall. He shoves his feet into his boots, uncaring that they will rub the skin raw well before he's home.
He can't believe he let himself fall for that, let himself believe a stupid douchebag angel. What had they ever done for him, what had they done for Sam, for his Dad? A big fat nothing! His rage carries him out the main door to the building and halfway along the street before he realises that he doesn't really know where he is. He can still feel the hot tears burning behind his eyes and he blinks hard, willing them away.
A taxi is heading along the street towards him and Dean flags it down, produces a business card for Dante's and hands the driver a twenty. The driver just shrugs, makes a u-turn at the end of the road and they speed up back down the street. Dean does his best to ignore the figure that comes rushing out of the building, shirt unfastened, blue eyes full of concern and loss and fear. He keeps his mind carefully blank all through the journey across town. He walks into Dante's and comes out with a bottle of whisky that's probably far too expensive for what he intends to do with it.
It's already a quarter empty by the time he makes it up the hill to his house.
On to Part Eight
Gabriel, who has taken it upon himself to oversee the matter (if only because of the huge amount of amusement it is affording him), does his best to calm Castiel down. He prevents him from phone stalking Sam; if anyone is going to call up that tall drink of water it's going to be him. He keeps him busy practising his signing, sending him out to a local school as part of their 'Service to the Community' programme.
Then, two weeks before Castiel is supposed to appear in the Church before his Father, Sam calls to say that he is on his way up and that he would love to meet with Castiel and Gabriel. Castiel spends the next day pulling everything out of his wardrobe in a fretful attempt to find something that will make him 'appealing' to Dean. The sight of crumpled clothes causes him to phone Gabriel in a panic before he spends the next three hours calming himself down with a meditative bout of ironing and re-shelving.
Gabriel arrives a hour before their meeting with Sam and Dean, dressed casually in dark denims and a green shirt that makes his eyes gleam a rich topaz. He hands Castiel a wine-red shirt and a half-bottle of whiskey.
“Drink that and calm down, little bro. Dean probably already thinks you're a strange little nerd angel, no reason to prove him right. And put the shirt on, that colour will make you look smoking.”
Several burning slurps later, Castiel lets out a sigh and finally seems to begin to relax. “It is just a meeting. It cannot go that wrong, can it? I just have to persuade Dean to come with me to the Church in two weeks and sing. Oh, why did I think this would work? Dean will never agree to this, why would he?” Castiel tilts the bottle to his lips and takes another couple of long swallows. The burn is smoother now, heat spreading pleasantly through him.
“Go. Change. Deep breaths. And pass me that bottle, if you're gonna gabble like this all night I'm gonna need a drink.”
Castiel frowns at Gabriel who returns the look with a sunny, innocent smile. Well, as innocent as Gabriel ever gets. Castiel hands over the bottle reluctantly and goes to change. He comes back out, smoothing his hands over the soft cotton, and Gabriel nods his approval. “Man, I have good taste. C'm'on then Cassie, let's go get you your man.”
“My name is Castiel.”
---II---
They have arranged to meet at a restaurant. Gabriel has assured Castiel that Sam had said it was just the sort that Dean liked and when they arrive Castiel lets out a sigh of relief. It's nice but not pretentious and the hostess is pleasant and friendly as she leads them to their table. Castiel asks for a glass of water, the whiskey from earlier still heating his stomach in a welcome fashion. He feels relaxed, the edge taken off his nerves.
That is until Dean walks in and the knot returns to Castiel's stomach and he feels his heart stutter nervously. Sam is not what Castiel expected. He had been expecting, well he didn't know what he had been expecting but this overwhelming impression of height and shoulders was not it. He does see the connection between them though, the slight dimple to the chin, the full lower lip. It's as if Sam is a sharper and more angled version of Dean. Cheekbones tilted a touch more, jaw that touch sharper.
Sam leans in to say something to Dean and Dean smiles in response and Castiel's heart stutters and stops for a brief moment. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the sight of white teeth and the pink of tongue as Dean smirks and licks his lips causes strange things to happen lower in Castiel's body. He wishes he had more whiskey.
The two Winchesters make their way over to the table and Castiel blinks in amazement as Gabriel rises to his feet. He knows it will be too subtle for Sam and Dean to notice, but he sees the flush that pinkens Gabriel's cheeks and he darts another curious gaze at Sam. Sam and Dean are staring at Gabriel, eyes wide and Castiel notices that Dean has dropped automatically into a defensive posture, moving slightly in front of his younger brother.
“You!”
/I thought we killed you/
“You're Gabriel? Not a trickster?”
Gabriel smirks awkwardly, “So you've discovered my dirty secret - I'm not strictly a Trickster. But I had my reasons at the time, well, before Dad stepped up and changed everything.” He half shrugs and turns to Dean, “And no, you didn't kill me.”
“You tried to kill Gabriel? How?” Castiel stares at the brothers in shock. “When? Why didn't you tell me?” He turns to Gabriel with that last question, but whips back round to watch Dean as he shrugs and signs, /We tried to stake him/
“You tried to stake him?” Castiel's voice almost rises out of his habitual growl, he's so surprised.
“Yeah, made some proper ash stakes and everything. Should have worked.” Sam kind of sounds glad that it didn't, eyes fixed on Gabriel.
“If I was actually a Trickster, yeah! But I'm not, so I'm still here and everything's awesome.” Gabriel gestures widely and beams, Sam snorts with amusement and then tries to look contrite. “So, should we apologise?”
“Nah, it's all good.” Gabriel sits back down and Sam sits down next down him which forces Dean to sit next to Castiel. The waitress comes back over and Sam asks for a water and a beer for Dean. Dean picks up the menu and scans its contents.
/We need to let angels take us out to eat more often. Did you see this/ He leans across and points at Sam's menu and Sam raises an eyebrow.
“Dean, as your little brother, in all good conscience, I am not going to order that for you. Your arteries will thank me later.” Dean pouts and Sam just smirks.
“I'm gonna get you the Caesar salad and the chicken? With a baked potato?” Castiel watches amused as Dean leans across again and smacks his little brother in the arm. The amusement disappears as Dean turns to him, green eyes wide and as innocent as he can get them. /You'll be my friend? You won't let me starve or make me eat that stupid girl food?/
Dean leans into Castiel's space, runs his finger down Castiel's menu until he gets to the selection of burgers. His finger hovers over the Double with swiss cheese, onion rings and salsa before moving to the spicy fries. Castiel can feel the heat emanating from Dean's arm, can smell the subtle greenish scent of his aftershave. He can also feel Sam's glare from across the table.
“Maybe you could compromise and go for the chicken burger and the mixed wedges?” Dean looks thoughtful, the sweet potato, parsnip and potato wedges do sound nice.
/K. But can I get onion rings on the side?/
Castiel's gaze darts to Sam, before Dean grabs him by the wrist. /Sam is not my keeper. I was asking if you would order them for me, not whether I was allowed them./ Castiel blinks and nods. “Of course, Dean. I did not mean to imply...” The waitress interrupts them and Dean makes an obvious attempt at flirtatiousness, fixing her with his green eyes and letting his lips curve in a slow, sleepy, dirty smile as he looks her up and down. Sam orders Dean the chicken burger and the onion rings and Dean waves his half-empty bottle, turning his warmest smile on the waitress who flushes and rushes off.
When the waitress returns, Castiel asks for a bottle of wine. Sam and Gabriel are forced to carry the conversation, trying to bring their brothers into it. Dean gives a half-shrug and waves his fork before placing on the table /Can't talk and eat, Sam. Something you should try too./
Gabriel tries to include Castiel, but Castiel's answers are nervous and curt, swallowed down with wine. He would prefer to let Gabriel ramble about the time he ran into Dean and Sam. Sam laughs when he reminds them about the slow-dancing aliens and Castiel's gaze flicks to Dean, looking for that smile. It's spread broad across his face until he feels Castiel looking and it slips off, replaced by something that Castiel cannot identify. It may be nervousness but also possibly just indigestion.
The meal ends in an awkward fight for the bill until Gabriel just states that as the oldest one there, he'll pay and if the rest of them were going to act like children, he'd treat them as such. Castiel flushes, ashamed and heading towards drunk. Dean just shrugs and downs the last of his beer. They head out of the restaurant and Gabriel turns them to walk to a bar a couple of blocks away. He can't leave the evening like this, Castiel and Dean are barely looking at each other. He needs to smooth out whatever the problem is and spending more of the evening with Sam is just an added bonus.
However, the night seems to go downhill from there. Dean talks mainly to Sam, turning his back on Castiel, excluding him from the conversation until Sam finally grabs Dean's arm, drags him off into a quiet corner and says, “Dude, what on earth is up with you, you've been in a shitty mood since the restaurant. I thought you two were getting on.”
/He treats me like a girl/
“That's what this is about, the order thing in the restaurant? Dean, I treat you like that, you don't get that uptight about it with me.”
/But you're my brother, and he got me flowers and a hamper and books!/
“Okay, so he's a bit of a failure at the courting thing, but he's trying Dean, I think you should be grateful that someone's interested in your skanky ass.”
/Hey, there's nothing wrong with my ass./ Dean flicks a glance up at Sam, feeling stupidly guilty and a little ashamed of himself. /But maybe I have been a bit hard on him/ Sam grins and nods and Dean laughs silently and relaxes and suddenly the evening is going a whole lot better. Sam and Gabriel still lead the conversation but Castiel adds his own anecdotes, his dry humour making Dean smile more often and if Castiel feels the urge to punch Gabriel in his increasingly smug face, he swallows it down.
For some reason they all end up back at Gabriel's, 'Die Hard' on the TV, candy and popcorn and beer, Sam sprawled along the length of the sofa, head in Gabriel's lap, Castiel and Dean sprawled on the two beanbags. Dean leans over to get more popcorn, his head landing on Castiel's shoulder and it's so comfy he just leaves it there, smiling when Castiel's hand twists into his, fingers rubbing and wrapping around each other.
Neither of them notice Sam and Gabriel disappearing, until Castiel turns to ask Sam something and realises that they are no longer there. He turns back to Dean to ask him if he knows where they went just as Dean tries to reach for the last of the M&M's. Bodies collide and Castiel falls back on to the floor, Dean sprawled over the length of him. Castiel's breath hisses out of him and his eyes widen as Dean's darken, a soft pink tongue sliding over those plush lips and Castiel can't stop himself as his head tilts upwards, needing to taste that warm slick.
The kiss is short but heated until Castiel pulls back, head thumping to the carpet, eyes dark and wide as he stares up at Dean in silent question. Dean's mouth shapes Castiel's name before it fastens hungrily back on to Castiel's, tongue slicking deep, hips grinding down into Castiel's. Dean tastes of beer and chocolate and heat and Castiel wants to drown in the warmth of his mouth, wants to find if the rest of him tastes as delectable as that soft mouth.
Castiel is overwhelmed by the rush of feelings that swim through him, hormones and endorphins sparking off nerves, sending his pulse racing, blood flushing his cheeks, racing southwards and his hips arch up towards the pressure of Dean, needing something, anything. Castiel's lungs ache for air, the soft exchanges of breath between slick, heated kisses not enough and he brings his hands between them.
“Dean, Dean, we should...should...” Castiel pushes Dean upwards and away and Dean frowns. Castiel pulls himself to his feet and turns to meet Dean's gaze. Heat is being replaced by hurt and puzzlement and Castiel cuts off the rising confusion by grabbing Dean's hand and towing him towards the spare room. Dean's grin as he realises Castiel's intention is full of wicked promise and Castiel shivers with desire. Clothes are shed haphazardly, falling disregarded to the floor, and Dean runs a heated gaze over the pale lines of Castiel's body.
They fall on to the bed in a tangle of limbs, bodies arching and rubbing against each other. Castiel takes the time to lick and nibble at the freckles that gild Dean's collarbones, exulting in each gasp of breath of Dean makes. Then Dean wraps his fingers into the mess of Castiel's hair, letting the soft strands twine around his fingers as he hauls Castiel back to his mouth, licking into the heat of him, arching upwards at each moan he pulls, wrecked and gasping, from Castiel's lips.
Somehow, Castiel gets a hand in between them, wrapping talented fingers tentatively around both of them. He's never done anything like this before, never felt this urgent need but thankfully instinct takes over and he curls his fingers, sliding them over the slick head, down the firm shafts. Dean thrusts upwards into the touch. He can feel Castiel's hand wrapped around him, can feel the slicker slide of the velvet skin of his cock. He sucks Castiel's lower lip into his mouth and bites. Castiel groans and tightens his hand, hips stuttering and jerking, and then Dean is coming, hard and fast and surprising both of them. Castiel feels the warm slickness and tumbles over the edge behind him. He kisses Dean, slow and sleepy and soft until they both drift off, arms and legs and bodies entwined.
7.2
Dean wakes slowly the next morning, warm and cosy and well-rested. A faint headache tries to make its presence felt, but Dean knows hangovers and this one barely rates a groan. He burrows deeper under the covers, seeking out another hour of delicious sleep, and then realises that the bed isn't his. It doesn't smell like the laundry detergent he uses, it smells like sex and...Cas? Dean realises it smells like Cas because there is a warm body curled up next to him, knees brushing lightly against his thigh. Dean tilts his head and opens his eyes to see dark hair. He blinks and shifts back until Castiel's face comes into view, eyelashes dark against cheeks flushed a soft, sleepy pink.
Castiel looks innocent and wanton at the same time, face smooth with sleep, lips still swollen and pink from Dean's kisses. Memories come swirling back, Castiel's mouth heated against his, the rising spiral of pleasure. A soft smile curves Dean's lips. He stares at the angel in the bed, wondering how on earth they got from there to here, but realises he doesn't really care all that much now.
Cas (and when did he become Cas?) has become someone Dean wants to know just for himself. He wants to know what will make him smile, what will make him sad, if he likes scary movies, is he weird enough to like pineapple on his pizza? He wants to spend time with him finding these things out, wants to spend more time exploring that mouth, the soft curve of his belly, wants to find out what will make Cas moan, what will make him scream.
Dean thinks that this sudden rush of feelings should worry him. He's never done the chick-flick thing before, never wanted to. Make contact, fuck and then leave, that was the Winchester way. But things have changed, the world changed and finally Dean realises that maybe Sam has been right all along, maybe it is making things better. Not that he would ever tell Sam that.
Dean trails his glance over Cas again, and when he reaches his face he blushes as he finds Cas watching him, blue eyes dark, one eyebrow raised enquiringly. “So do I meet with your approval?” Dean nods, and then nods again more vigorously, adding a soft kiss so that Cas knows exactly how much he is appreciated. Dean smirks as this brings a soft flush to Castiel's cheeks and lowers his mouth again, dragging it slowly against Castiel's, nibbling and licking until the flesh is swollen and slick and flushed with blood.
Dean could kiss Castiel for hours, tracing his tongue over the soft curves, finding the sharp edge of teeth, the points of his incisors. He sucks Castiel's tongue into his mouth, tastes the warmth of it, moans as it curls around his own, twining and then pulling back in a teasing dance. He feels the soft brushes of Castiel's breath on his skin, hears the muffled gasps and moans of pleasure as they echo back and forth between their mouths. The rub of Castiel's stubble against his skin adds another layer to the build up of sensation. Dean slows it down, not wanting to get caught, wanting to keep this private for a little while longer. He pulls back a little, restraining the kisses into small, soft presses of mouth against mouth.
Castiel smiles happily at Dean, absorbs the quiet pleasure in the green eyes, the heat of Dean's skin pressed against his own. He shifts up the bed, curling his body into a more upright position.
“I did not dare hope that this could happen, that you would be interested, that we...” Castiel trails off with a blush, remembering the previous night.
Dean rolls over onto his back, grin wide as his hands come up. /Oh, I'm interested baby/ Dean smirks and somehow manages to convey the dirty tone of his words with slow, languid movements of his hands.
“And so you will come with me to the Church and stand beside me?”
/What?/
“My Father, our Father, asked us to prove that we could care for His creation, to show that we could make it care for us, to love one of us. He banished us until we could do that and then our Grace will be fully restored and we will be able to return to Heaven...”
Castiel trails off as Dean's expression darkens, his smile fading, the light vanishing from his eyes, leaving them shuttered and blank. He watches as Dean jerks himself from the bed, yanking his trousers on. Dean stops, button unfastened and glares at Castiel.
/This was just a line then. You all want to get home but daddy has said 'No!' and you need some schmuck to turn up in front of Dad and say 'Hey look, they're not all bad, this one's quite nice actually, made me feel real good.' And then you get to go home and we're left here, with all the bad guys out of the closet and no angels to protect us?/
Dean turns, searching for his shirt, dressing himself with quick jerky motions.
“No Dean, it's not like...” Castiel trails off, realising that yes, it is like that. Dean spins round to face the bed again, he can't find one of his socks, so he balls up the other and throws it hard at the floor.
/Yeah, I didn't think you could finish that. It's exactly like that. Well, you know what, I didn't need your help before, and I don't need it now. You can look somewhere else for some fool that will give you their heart on a plate./
Dean jerks his hands to a stop, slams them together in frustration, his mouth working angrily. He wants to yell at Castiel but he has spent so long in his self-imposed silence he cannot get the words out. He can feel all these emotions twisting inside of him, can feel hot tears burning at the back of his eyes and he yanks the door open. He wants to say something, needs to let Cas know much he hurts but the words are stuck inside of him and he settles for giving Castiel the finger, both of them, before he forces himself through the door and down the hall. He shoves his feet into his boots, uncaring that they will rub the skin raw well before he's home.
He can't believe he let himself fall for that, let himself believe a stupid douchebag angel. What had they ever done for him, what had they done for Sam, for his Dad? A big fat nothing! His rage carries him out the main door to the building and halfway along the street before he realises that he doesn't really know where he is. He can still feel the hot tears burning behind his eyes and he blinks hard, willing them away.
A taxi is heading along the street towards him and Dean flags it down, produces a business card for Dante's and hands the driver a twenty. The driver just shrugs, makes a u-turn at the end of the road and they speed up back down the street. Dean does his best to ignore the figure that comes rushing out of the building, shirt unfastened, blue eyes full of concern and loss and fear. He keeps his mind carefully blank all through the journey across town. He walks into Dante's and comes out with a bottle of whisky that's probably far too expensive for what he intends to do with it.
It's already a quarter empty by the time he makes it up the hill to his house.
On to Part Eight