Fic: Reciprocal
Title: Reciprocal
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Lucifer, Sam/Castiel
Rating: G
Summary: Dean isn’t jealous of the relationship that Sam and Cas have, not since a Cupid gave him an angel of his very own.
A/N: There is not enough fluff written for this pairing. So I’m writing some. Or attempting to write some.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or the show
Dean wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. He was happy. Really. He was happy because Sam was happy, even if Sam’s happiness came from taking the only thing that had ever told Dean that he was worth anything.
So, really, he was overjoyed to be sitting alone on the hood of his car, totally not waiting for Sam and Cas to get back from their latest lovefest in Rome.
He wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t sad or depressed or any of the things that it looked like he was. He most certainly wasn’t wondering what it was about Sam that made him more appealing and easier to love.
Nope.
Sam deserved this, especially after everything that had happened.
Dean looked up at the stars and wondered what it was like to have someone care enough about you to whisk you halfway around the world on a whim for an authentic Italian dinner. He wondered if it felt anything like those epic staring contests he used to have with the angel, where Castiel would seemingly look into his soul and not flinch at what he saw there.
He wished he knew for sure, wished that something would look at him like that again, would do ridiculous things just to make him smile. Dean wished someone could love him like that.
-.-
Dean was woken in the morning by a loud knocking on the back window of the car. He squinted into the early morning sun and peered out to see Sam and Cas standing side-by-side on the parking lot.
He pushed the door open. “What?”
“Dude, you had the whole room to yourself and you slept in the car?”
Dean shrugged. “Thought you might want the room when you got back.”
“We stayed in an unoccupied villa last night,” Cas informed him. “You could have slept in a bed.”
The hunter pushed himself out of the car and slammed the door. “Whatever. Let me grab some new clothes and we can eat.”
Sam cleared his throat and made a point of examining his shoes. “We kinda had breakfast in Paris.”
“Of course you did,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. He unlocked the door to their room and barged in, flipping on the lights and freezing in place when he found one of the beds occupied.
The intruder stood, his eyes locked on the hunter, and smoothed out his shirt. “Dean.”
Dean felt Sam and Castiel hovering behind him, staring over his shoulders at the man who had settled himself in their room. “Lucifer.”
The angel smiled. “I thought you might not be coming back.”
Sam pushed past his brother, placing himself between Dean and the Devil. “What do you want?”
“I have an announcement,” Lucifer said.
“Unless it’s about calling off the Apocalypse, we don’t want to hear it.”
“I love you.”
Sam’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“Not you,” Lucifer clarified. He nodded toward Dean. “You.”
For one terrifying moment, the world stood still and everything stopped. Then the ground lurched suddenly (or maybe his legs just gave out) and Dean found himself leaning in the doorway to stay upright. “Since when?” he managed to ask.
“Cupid,” Cas growled.
-.-
It took half an hour to summon the naked little asshole to the motel, and in that time Dean had discovered a few things. First, when the Devil tells you that he loves you, he most likely isn’t lying, especially if a Cupid has carved enough Enochian into his heart to destroy a weaker angel.
Second, whoever Lucifer was wearing before asking Sam to the prom had hands that fit perfectly into Dean’s.
Third, holding hands was nice, even if the backdrop of the scene involved Sam’s wide eyes and Cas pacing the floor.
The fourth thing Dean learned was that the Devil burned cold. But it was a comfortable cold, like the air just before a spring storm, or right after the first snow of the season.
When Cupid finally showed, the hunter was almost disappointed. The ‘problem’ Sam and Cas were so intent upon solving didn’t seem like such a problem after half an hour of cool touches and sweet words whispered in his ear.
Cupid didn’t seem to understand, either. “I don’t see how love is wrong,” he claimed after a vigorous round of hugs that even Lucifer endured.
“It’s wrong because he’s the Devil,” Sam said, “and as soon as he breaks out of whatever you did to him, he’s going to kill us.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Not for a couple of weeks, at least.”
“What do you mean, a couple of weeks?” Dean asked, pulling his attention from the hand resting low on his back to the naked angel in the room.
Cupid shrugged. “Angels heal. The sigils and spells will wear off.”
“He’ll kill me?” Dean shrugged the hand off and stood to face the Cupid.
“Not if he falls in love with you.”
“We’re all dead,” Sam muttered.
“Not necessarily,” Cupid said. “I don’t just go around pairing people up willy nilly.” He puffed out his chest. “I do have standards.”
“Then why Satan?” Dean asked.
“He fit all of your requirements.”
“What requirements?”
“You wanted someone who would love you unconditionally. Most humans are incapable of that, but angels were made from love.” He gestured vaguely at the Devil, who was still sitting on Dean’s bed, looking up at them with sad eyes. “His current vessel is larger than you, and you wanted someone physically capable of holding and protecting you.” Dean felt his ears turn red. “You deem yourself broken and unworthy, but he is, too. No one will try to take him from you.” The angel smiled. “See, I did a good job.”
“But why now?” Sam asked.
“Well, when I heard him last night, I knew I just had to step in and help.” Cupid turned to Dean and frowned. “No one should ever feel that lonely.”
Sam and Cas turned to stare at Dean. “Last night?” Sam asked.
Dean frowned. “I didn’t -”
“Yes, you did,” Cupid argued with a sigh. “You were thinking about how nice it would be to have someone love you like they love each other.” He gestured vaguely to Sam and Castiel, a large smile breaking across his face. “There was just so much longing there, I couldn’t ignore it.”
“But he’s gonna kill me in a week,” the hunter repeated, trying to ignore the two pairs of eyes boring into him.
“Not if he falls in love with you.” That got his attention. Sam was standing in the corner of the room, a smug smirk stretched across his face as an idea formed in his head. “You have a whole week, at the least. It’s a long shot, but you could end this.”
“No pressure.”
“No Apocalypse.”
Dean looked back at the angel on the bed. Lucifer was sitting where they’d left him, watching the conversation with mild interest. “We’re gonna need another room.”
Cupid giggled.
-.-
“All right,” Dean said. He stopped in front of the new room and stared at the door. It had crossed his mind that this was a monumentally bad idea. That maybe the Cupid had been coerced. That Lucifer was waiting to get him alone to kill him, or worse. That he was walking directly into a trap.
A cool hand on his back snapped him out of his reverie. “Are you ok?”
Dean turned to the angel and sighed. “Yeah. Thinking.”
Lucifer nodded. “It’s crazy, huh? Last week I was busy thinking up ways to make you miserable, and now here we are.”
“You remember that? And you don’t think there’s anything weird about the sudden change of heart?”
The angel shrugged. “Everything happens for a reason.”
Dean nodded and turned the key in the lock. The door swung open and he stepped inside, tossing his duffle on one of the beds. Lucifer hung back in the doorway, gazing around the room with an obvious look of disgust.
“Not up to your standards?” the hunter asked.
“The linens haven’t been properly washed in over three years, the wallpaper is peeling, and someone urinated in the far right corner two days ago.” The angel sighed and met Dean’s eyes. “You deserve better.”
He snapped his fingers and before Dean could blink the room had shifted around them. It extended farther into the field behind the motel, and now boasted a large single bed, flat screen TV, full kitchen, comfortable-looking sofa, and a bathroom with a hot tub in it.
Lucifer smiled. “That’s more like it.”
-.-
It was like the angel was reading his mind, giving the hunter space to think while simultaneously finding ways to brush a comforting hand over his back or arm, sneaking into his space without quite being noticed. It was quiet and fluid and somehow they wound up on the couch together after a dinner of greasy Chinese food and stale beer.
There was a Dr. Sexy marathon on TV, and it was surprisingly easier to watch with Lucifer than it had ever been with Sam and Cas. At some point in the night an arm had fallen around his shoulders, but Dean was too caught up in the show to really pay it any attention. He was too busy trying to find clues as to the identity of Dr. Piccolo’s baby daddy to realize that he’d slowly sidled up beside the Devil until he was practically laying his head on the angel’s shoulder.
“You’re a cuddler.”
Dean blinked and looked up at the angel, the words struggling to register in his brain. “What?”
The arm around his shoulder tightened imperceptibly. “You like this.”
It wasn’t a question, so Dean didn’t answer. He just moved a little closer, rubbing his face against the rough fabric of a well-worn workshirt.
Truth be told, he hadn’t realized he was doing anything out of the ordinary. He’d just kind of fallen into the position and become too comfortable to move. Once he got thinking about it, though, it was pretty nice. Cool and soft and comfortable. He didn’t even have to earn it first, didn’t have to fall into bed and impress a stranger with feats of sexual prowess to be rewarded with this feeling of closeness. It was just offered.
It was in that moment that Dean realized he was well and truly fucked.
-.-
Lucifer was smiling indulgently at him. It should have been scary. It should have been terrifying.
It was strangely endearing. Like he honestly wanted nothing more than to make Dean happy. Like he was a lovesick puppy with bright blue eyes and a penchant for destruction. Marley, complete with euthanasia at the end of the story if Team Free Will got its way.
“There has to be something you want.”
“Like the hot tub isn’t enough?”
Lucifer pouted at him - actually pouted. “Nothing in the world?”
“I need new clothes. You can come with me to Goodwill.”
The angel blinked. “Sam has Castiel fly him to Paris and Rome, travel through time to meet great minds, and show him masterpieces that have been lost to humanity. You want to take me to a thrift store?”
Dean shrugged. “You asked.”
“You have no greater ambition? Nothing you’ve always wanted to do?”
“I need socks, too.”
“We’re not going to Goodwill.”
“Why not?”
“You deserve more. We’re going to New York. You’re getting new clothes.”
Dean shook his head. “They’ll be ripped to shreds and covered in blood within a week.”
“I’ll mend them.”
“You’re serious about this?”
Lucifer smiled that smile again and held out his hand. Dean took it.
-.-
“You loved him.”
Dean heaved a sigh and looked back over his shoulder. Lucifer was sitting at the small table in the corner with a book open in front of him. His eyes were trained on the hunter, who had been gazing out the window.
Sam and Cas had taken pity on him and his ‘predicament’ and had offered him enough alone time to woo the Devil. ‘Alone time for Dean’ apparently translated in ‘sexy times on the Impala’ in Sam speak. They weren’t washing the car so much as bathing it in bodily fluids.
“Castiel,” Lucifer prompted when Dean spaced off again. “You loved him.”
Dean shook his head. “No.”
“I know the look, Dean. I’m not stupid. You loved him. Why is he with Sam?”
The hunter looked back into the parking lot. Sam was teaching the angel how to wax on and wax off, practically engulfing the smaller body with his own. “I don’t know,” Dean muttered, watching the domestic bliss with mild disgust. “I was gonna tell him. I planned on telling him. I went out for dinner, psyched myself up for it in the car, and then walked in on them in my bed. I thought he liked me. Guess I was wrong.”
Strong arms snaked around his waist and Dean leaned into the touch. “You’re too good for him.”
The hunter closed his eyes and sighed. He was almost starting to believe that.
-.-
Sam cornered him by the vending machines. “How’s it going?”
“I’m still alive, so…”
“Does he love you yet?”
Dean couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. He does.”
Sam grinned. “That’s great. How’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get him to fall in love with you.”
The older man’s heart sank. “Oh. Um….”
“You forgot?”
“I didn’t forget,” Dean argued.
“You have one chance to save the world and you forget?”
“It’s your chance, too. Don’t see you helping.”
“He doesn’t love me, Dean. And he doesn’t love you, either, so get on it.” Sam sighed. “We’re running out of time.”
-.-
They sat on the couch, knees tucked under them, facing each other. It was important. Dean needed the angel’s full attention for this, needed to see those eyes one more time before everything changed, needed to see that look there for real before everything became a lie.
He didn’t want to lose it, didn’t want to lose the ease and the simple joy, the feeling that came with being valued. He hadn’t realized how different it was until Sam had reminded him.
“What’s wrong?”
Dean kept his gaze steady, didn’t want to miss a moment. Honest concern was suddenly a hell of a lot more valuable than it had been the day before.
“I don’t want to lose it,” the hunter said.
“Lose what?”
“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between them. “It’s nice.”
Lucifer smiled at that. “Why would you lose it?”
“It’s not real. I need to make it real, but I don’t think I can.”
“What do you mean?” the angel asked as the smile slowly slipped from his face.
“I don’t think I can do it. It’s never worked before. You don’t love me, but you have to if we want to stop this stupid War, so I need to make you. But I can’t do it. I can’t get it right. I can never get it right. I couldn’t be a good enough soldier for dad, or a good enough parent for Sam, or righteous enough for Cas. The only difference between them and you is that if I mess this up, the whole world goes in the crapper.”
Lucifer blinked at him. He reached out and took the man’s hands in his own, squeezing them softly. “And you think things would change between us if you tried that?”
Dean just nodded. The words were stuck in his throat, caught behind something hot and shameful that had been building up all week. For the first time since he was a child, he didn’t have to be something to be valued. He was just himself. Broken, flawed Dean Winchester. And that was finally enough for someone. It was selfish and dangerous, but he wanted desperately to cling to that, to hold it tight and never let it go because he knew it wouldn’t be happening again.
Something warm and soft brushed against his back, sliding through his hair and pushing him closer to the angel. Wings. Wings and arms wrapped around him because he’d bared his soul without saying a word, and it was better than he had ever imagined it could be.
So Dean was selfish. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a back-up plan. “You have to keep your word, right?” he asked, the words muffled in fabric and feathers.
Lucifer pulled back a bit, gazing down at the hunter. “As a matter of honor, yes.”
Dean scooted back, out of the circle of arms and wings. “I need you to promise me something. Swear it.”
“Anything.”
He sighed. “When this ends, when the Cupid-thing wears off, promise me you won’t go after them. You can do whatever you want to me and the world, but you leave Sam and Cas alone. They had nothing to do with this.”
“They had everything to do with this.”
“Promise me you won’t hurt them.”
“I promise.”
“Swear it,” Dean said. “You can have anything but them. Do anything but hurt them. They deserve to be happy.”
Lucifer nodded. “I swear it. No harm will come to them.”
“Good.”
It wasn’t entirely selfish, then.
-.-
When Dean woke up two days later to find himself alone in a smelly, peeling motel room, he wasn’t too surprised. It had been a nice vacation. He would miss the constant presence, the small touches, the laughter at his stupid jokes, the movie buddy, the wardrobe possibilities, and the body lying next to him every morning.
He would miss it all a lot.
-.-
Sam hadn’t really wanted to leave him alone, like he was afraid leaving Dean alone meant leaving Dean vulnerable, and that leaving Dean vulnerable would mean coming back to a pile of ash or pillar of salt in the middle of the room. But it had been a week since the Devil had flown the coop, and demonic omens were mysteriously back to pre-Apocalypse levels and nothing horrific had happened yet.
Sam hadn’t wanted to leave, but Dean had practically pushed him out the door. The older hunter had been climbing the walls, desperate for some time to sort out his thoughts without having to witness another angelic make-out session in the process.
Truth be told, he was concerned. Somewhere along the line things had blurred, and he was missing the Devil more than he was willing to let on. If they ever ran into the wayward angel again, he might be compromised. He needed to think, to regroup, to gather his thoughts in a quiet motel room.
The loud knocking on the door wasn’t helping.
Grumbling about Angel Air and Sam’s inability to hold onto a room key, Dean crossed the room and wrenched the door open. His jaw dropped.
Standing in the doorway holding a large Village Inn box was the Devil himself. “May I come in?”
More than a little dumbstruck, Dean stepped aside. Lucifer brushed past him and into the room, moving to the small table in the corner. He opened up the box and pulled plates and forks from thin air.
“Hungry?” the angel asked, taking a seat. “I brought pie.”
Dean closed the door and ventured warily to the table. There was, indeed, pie in the box. It looked pretty decent, too. Non-lethal, at least.
“It’s French Silk,” Lucifer explained. “I was gonna get apple, but I remembered that story you told me about the scarecrow in Indiana, and decided against it. I hope this is ok.”
The hunter sat down across from him. “It’s fine.”
Lucifer smiled. “Good.” He pushed a slice toward the hunter. “Enjoy.”
Dean, to his credit, waited for the angel to take a bite before deeming the pie safe for consumption, as if it would have made a difference. If Lucifer was there to kill him, there would be no way to stop him. “So,” the hunter said, “last meal?”
“What?”
“You want to feed me before you kill me?”
The angel frowned at that. “I’m not going to kill you, Dean.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“There’s something I needed to tell you.”
“Oh?”
Lucifer nodded. “I’m calling off the Horsemen. The demons are being sent back to Hell. Monsters are going back into hiding. The War is over.”
“Wow. Um. That’s great. What made you change your mind?” Not that he believed it for a minute.
“You.”
Yeah, Dean was definitely not believing it now. “Me?”
“I learned something about humanity last week, Dean. You’re not all selfish animals ruled by base instinct and blind need. You were willing to spare your brother my wrath and take the blunt of it. Very courageous.”
Dean swallowed a particularly stubborn bite, his mouth going suddenly dry. “I was selfish.”
“You think you were selfish. And maybe you were. But as far as I could see, you were willing to give yourself fully to me to save your brother. And if I recall, that same action is what landed us here, isn’t it?”
Dean just stared at him. “The deal?”
“An eternity in Hell to give Sam the chance at a normal life.”
“To not have to live without him.”
“Selfish, selfless, the line blurs. The main point is still the same. You would do anything to keep your brother safe and happy, even if he happens to be in the wrong. Isn’t that right?”
The hunter nodded. “I guess.”
“You fight for a world that will never know your sacrifice, the changes you’ve made to be ignored and belittled, the parts of yourself you’ve lost along the way. You fight because so few do, simply because you can’t not. You ask for nothing in return, not a trip around the world, fine cuisine, even new clothing. You do it because you love it and because someone has to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re a fine example of humanity, Dean Winchester. You give everything and ask for nothing, let Sam take what you covet. You repeatedly sacrifice yourself to keep him safe and happy, going against orders from every authority. You’re the kind of brother I thought I had. You’re the kind of person I wish my brother could be. And that’s why I love you.”
Dean blinked. “What?”
“I love you. You don’t reciprocate, and I can understand that. I don’t expect you to. But I figured you should know. Someone out there loves you, just the way you are. Remember that.”
The hunter stared at him for a long moment, watching as he finished the last bite of his slice and licked the fork clean.
He had thought a lot about how this first post-Cupid meeting would go. In every version his mind could dream up, it ended in pain and bloodshed. It ended with nations crushed to gravel and bodies piled in the streets. It ended with Sam staring at a pyre and refusing to cry as Castiel searched desperately for something torn so completely asunder that there was nothing left to find. None of those scenarios had ended with pie. None of them had ended with the words Dean had just heard. None of them had that warm feeling that was curling its way into his belly as the Devil considered taking another piece.
They were going off script, and he was ok with that.
Dean surged up out of his chair and leaned across the table, grabbing Lucifer by the shirt and hauling him up, smearing chocolate and whipped cream across the table and their clothes. “I reciprocate,” Dean said as he leaned in for their first kiss.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Lucifer, Sam/Castiel
Rating: G
Summary: Dean isn’t jealous of the relationship that Sam and Cas have, not since a Cupid gave him an angel of his very own.
A/N: There is not enough fluff written for this pairing. So I’m writing some. Or attempting to write some.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or the show
Dean wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. He was happy. Really. He was happy because Sam was happy, even if Sam’s happiness came from taking the only thing that had ever told Dean that he was worth anything.
So, really, he was overjoyed to be sitting alone on the hood of his car, totally not waiting for Sam and Cas to get back from their latest lovefest in Rome.
He wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t sad or depressed or any of the things that it looked like he was. He most certainly wasn’t wondering what it was about Sam that made him more appealing and easier to love.
Nope.
Sam deserved this, especially after everything that had happened.
Dean looked up at the stars and wondered what it was like to have someone care enough about you to whisk you halfway around the world on a whim for an authentic Italian dinner. He wondered if it felt anything like those epic staring contests he used to have with the angel, where Castiel would seemingly look into his soul and not flinch at what he saw there.
He wished he knew for sure, wished that something would look at him like that again, would do ridiculous things just to make him smile. Dean wished someone could love him like that.
-.-
Dean was woken in the morning by a loud knocking on the back window of the car. He squinted into the early morning sun and peered out to see Sam and Cas standing side-by-side on the parking lot.
He pushed the door open. “What?”
“Dude, you had the whole room to yourself and you slept in the car?”
Dean shrugged. “Thought you might want the room when you got back.”
“We stayed in an unoccupied villa last night,” Cas informed him. “You could have slept in a bed.”
The hunter pushed himself out of the car and slammed the door. “Whatever. Let me grab some new clothes and we can eat.”
Sam cleared his throat and made a point of examining his shoes. “We kinda had breakfast in Paris.”
“Of course you did,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. He unlocked the door to their room and barged in, flipping on the lights and freezing in place when he found one of the beds occupied.
The intruder stood, his eyes locked on the hunter, and smoothed out his shirt. “Dean.”
Dean felt Sam and Castiel hovering behind him, staring over his shoulders at the man who had settled himself in their room. “Lucifer.”
The angel smiled. “I thought you might not be coming back.”
Sam pushed past his brother, placing himself between Dean and the Devil. “What do you want?”
“I have an announcement,” Lucifer said.
“Unless it’s about calling off the Apocalypse, we don’t want to hear it.”
“I love you.”
Sam’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“Not you,” Lucifer clarified. He nodded toward Dean. “You.”
For one terrifying moment, the world stood still and everything stopped. Then the ground lurched suddenly (or maybe his legs just gave out) and Dean found himself leaning in the doorway to stay upright. “Since when?” he managed to ask.
“Cupid,” Cas growled.
-.-
It took half an hour to summon the naked little asshole to the motel, and in that time Dean had discovered a few things. First, when the Devil tells you that he loves you, he most likely isn’t lying, especially if a Cupid has carved enough Enochian into his heart to destroy a weaker angel.
Second, whoever Lucifer was wearing before asking Sam to the prom had hands that fit perfectly into Dean’s.
Third, holding hands was nice, even if the backdrop of the scene involved Sam’s wide eyes and Cas pacing the floor.
The fourth thing Dean learned was that the Devil burned cold. But it was a comfortable cold, like the air just before a spring storm, or right after the first snow of the season.
When Cupid finally showed, the hunter was almost disappointed. The ‘problem’ Sam and Cas were so intent upon solving didn’t seem like such a problem after half an hour of cool touches and sweet words whispered in his ear.
Cupid didn’t seem to understand, either. “I don’t see how love is wrong,” he claimed after a vigorous round of hugs that even Lucifer endured.
“It’s wrong because he’s the Devil,” Sam said, “and as soon as he breaks out of whatever you did to him, he’s going to kill us.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Not for a couple of weeks, at least.”
“What do you mean, a couple of weeks?” Dean asked, pulling his attention from the hand resting low on his back to the naked angel in the room.
Cupid shrugged. “Angels heal. The sigils and spells will wear off.”
“He’ll kill me?” Dean shrugged the hand off and stood to face the Cupid.
“Not if he falls in love with you.”
“We’re all dead,” Sam muttered.
“Not necessarily,” Cupid said. “I don’t just go around pairing people up willy nilly.” He puffed out his chest. “I do have standards.”
“Then why Satan?” Dean asked.
“He fit all of your requirements.”
“What requirements?”
“You wanted someone who would love you unconditionally. Most humans are incapable of that, but angels were made from love.” He gestured vaguely at the Devil, who was still sitting on Dean’s bed, looking up at them with sad eyes. “His current vessel is larger than you, and you wanted someone physically capable of holding and protecting you.” Dean felt his ears turn red. “You deem yourself broken and unworthy, but he is, too. No one will try to take him from you.” The angel smiled. “See, I did a good job.”
“But why now?” Sam asked.
“Well, when I heard him last night, I knew I just had to step in and help.” Cupid turned to Dean and frowned. “No one should ever feel that lonely.”
Sam and Cas turned to stare at Dean. “Last night?” Sam asked.
Dean frowned. “I didn’t -”
“Yes, you did,” Cupid argued with a sigh. “You were thinking about how nice it would be to have someone love you like they love each other.” He gestured vaguely to Sam and Castiel, a large smile breaking across his face. “There was just so much longing there, I couldn’t ignore it.”
“But he’s gonna kill me in a week,” the hunter repeated, trying to ignore the two pairs of eyes boring into him.
“Not if he falls in love with you.” That got his attention. Sam was standing in the corner of the room, a smug smirk stretched across his face as an idea formed in his head. “You have a whole week, at the least. It’s a long shot, but you could end this.”
“No pressure.”
“No Apocalypse.”
Dean looked back at the angel on the bed. Lucifer was sitting where they’d left him, watching the conversation with mild interest. “We’re gonna need another room.”
Cupid giggled.
-.-
“All right,” Dean said. He stopped in front of the new room and stared at the door. It had crossed his mind that this was a monumentally bad idea. That maybe the Cupid had been coerced. That Lucifer was waiting to get him alone to kill him, or worse. That he was walking directly into a trap.
A cool hand on his back snapped him out of his reverie. “Are you ok?”
Dean turned to the angel and sighed. “Yeah. Thinking.”
Lucifer nodded. “It’s crazy, huh? Last week I was busy thinking up ways to make you miserable, and now here we are.”
“You remember that? And you don’t think there’s anything weird about the sudden change of heart?”
The angel shrugged. “Everything happens for a reason.”
Dean nodded and turned the key in the lock. The door swung open and he stepped inside, tossing his duffle on one of the beds. Lucifer hung back in the doorway, gazing around the room with an obvious look of disgust.
“Not up to your standards?” the hunter asked.
“The linens haven’t been properly washed in over three years, the wallpaper is peeling, and someone urinated in the far right corner two days ago.” The angel sighed and met Dean’s eyes. “You deserve better.”
He snapped his fingers and before Dean could blink the room had shifted around them. It extended farther into the field behind the motel, and now boasted a large single bed, flat screen TV, full kitchen, comfortable-looking sofa, and a bathroom with a hot tub in it.
Lucifer smiled. “That’s more like it.”
-.-
It was like the angel was reading his mind, giving the hunter space to think while simultaneously finding ways to brush a comforting hand over his back or arm, sneaking into his space without quite being noticed. It was quiet and fluid and somehow they wound up on the couch together after a dinner of greasy Chinese food and stale beer.
There was a Dr. Sexy marathon on TV, and it was surprisingly easier to watch with Lucifer than it had ever been with Sam and Cas. At some point in the night an arm had fallen around his shoulders, but Dean was too caught up in the show to really pay it any attention. He was too busy trying to find clues as to the identity of Dr. Piccolo’s baby daddy to realize that he’d slowly sidled up beside the Devil until he was practically laying his head on the angel’s shoulder.
“You’re a cuddler.”
Dean blinked and looked up at the angel, the words struggling to register in his brain. “What?”
The arm around his shoulder tightened imperceptibly. “You like this.”
It wasn’t a question, so Dean didn’t answer. He just moved a little closer, rubbing his face against the rough fabric of a well-worn workshirt.
Truth be told, he hadn’t realized he was doing anything out of the ordinary. He’d just kind of fallen into the position and become too comfortable to move. Once he got thinking about it, though, it was pretty nice. Cool and soft and comfortable. He didn’t even have to earn it first, didn’t have to fall into bed and impress a stranger with feats of sexual prowess to be rewarded with this feeling of closeness. It was just offered.
It was in that moment that Dean realized he was well and truly fucked.
-.-
Lucifer was smiling indulgently at him. It should have been scary. It should have been terrifying.
It was strangely endearing. Like he honestly wanted nothing more than to make Dean happy. Like he was a lovesick puppy with bright blue eyes and a penchant for destruction. Marley, complete with euthanasia at the end of the story if Team Free Will got its way.
“There has to be something you want.”
“Like the hot tub isn’t enough?”
Lucifer pouted at him - actually pouted. “Nothing in the world?”
“I need new clothes. You can come with me to Goodwill.”
The angel blinked. “Sam has Castiel fly him to Paris and Rome, travel through time to meet great minds, and show him masterpieces that have been lost to humanity. You want to take me to a thrift store?”
Dean shrugged. “You asked.”
“You have no greater ambition? Nothing you’ve always wanted to do?”
“I need socks, too.”
“We’re not going to Goodwill.”
“Why not?”
“You deserve more. We’re going to New York. You’re getting new clothes.”
Dean shook his head. “They’ll be ripped to shreds and covered in blood within a week.”
“I’ll mend them.”
“You’re serious about this?”
Lucifer smiled that smile again and held out his hand. Dean took it.
-.-
“You loved him.”
Dean heaved a sigh and looked back over his shoulder. Lucifer was sitting at the small table in the corner with a book open in front of him. His eyes were trained on the hunter, who had been gazing out the window.
Sam and Cas had taken pity on him and his ‘predicament’ and had offered him enough alone time to woo the Devil. ‘Alone time for Dean’ apparently translated in ‘sexy times on the Impala’ in Sam speak. They weren’t washing the car so much as bathing it in bodily fluids.
“Castiel,” Lucifer prompted when Dean spaced off again. “You loved him.”
Dean shook his head. “No.”
“I know the look, Dean. I’m not stupid. You loved him. Why is he with Sam?”
The hunter looked back into the parking lot. Sam was teaching the angel how to wax on and wax off, practically engulfing the smaller body with his own. “I don’t know,” Dean muttered, watching the domestic bliss with mild disgust. “I was gonna tell him. I planned on telling him. I went out for dinner, psyched myself up for it in the car, and then walked in on them in my bed. I thought he liked me. Guess I was wrong.”
Strong arms snaked around his waist and Dean leaned into the touch. “You’re too good for him.”
The hunter closed his eyes and sighed. He was almost starting to believe that.
-.-
Sam cornered him by the vending machines. “How’s it going?”
“I’m still alive, so…”
“Does he love you yet?”
Dean couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. He does.”
Sam grinned. “That’s great. How’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get him to fall in love with you.”
The older man’s heart sank. “Oh. Um….”
“You forgot?”
“I didn’t forget,” Dean argued.
“You have one chance to save the world and you forget?”
“It’s your chance, too. Don’t see you helping.”
“He doesn’t love me, Dean. And he doesn’t love you, either, so get on it.” Sam sighed. “We’re running out of time.”
-.-
They sat on the couch, knees tucked under them, facing each other. It was important. Dean needed the angel’s full attention for this, needed to see those eyes one more time before everything changed, needed to see that look there for real before everything became a lie.
He didn’t want to lose it, didn’t want to lose the ease and the simple joy, the feeling that came with being valued. He hadn’t realized how different it was until Sam had reminded him.
“What’s wrong?”
Dean kept his gaze steady, didn’t want to miss a moment. Honest concern was suddenly a hell of a lot more valuable than it had been the day before.
“I don’t want to lose it,” the hunter said.
“Lose what?”
“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between them. “It’s nice.”
Lucifer smiled at that. “Why would you lose it?”
“It’s not real. I need to make it real, but I don’t think I can.”
“What do you mean?” the angel asked as the smile slowly slipped from his face.
“I don’t think I can do it. It’s never worked before. You don’t love me, but you have to if we want to stop this stupid War, so I need to make you. But I can’t do it. I can’t get it right. I can never get it right. I couldn’t be a good enough soldier for dad, or a good enough parent for Sam, or righteous enough for Cas. The only difference between them and you is that if I mess this up, the whole world goes in the crapper.”
Lucifer blinked at him. He reached out and took the man’s hands in his own, squeezing them softly. “And you think things would change between us if you tried that?”
Dean just nodded. The words were stuck in his throat, caught behind something hot and shameful that had been building up all week. For the first time since he was a child, he didn’t have to be something to be valued. He was just himself. Broken, flawed Dean Winchester. And that was finally enough for someone. It was selfish and dangerous, but he wanted desperately to cling to that, to hold it tight and never let it go because he knew it wouldn’t be happening again.
Something warm and soft brushed against his back, sliding through his hair and pushing him closer to the angel. Wings. Wings and arms wrapped around him because he’d bared his soul without saying a word, and it was better than he had ever imagined it could be.
So Dean was selfish. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a back-up plan. “You have to keep your word, right?” he asked, the words muffled in fabric and feathers.
Lucifer pulled back a bit, gazing down at the hunter. “As a matter of honor, yes.”
Dean scooted back, out of the circle of arms and wings. “I need you to promise me something. Swear it.”
“Anything.”
He sighed. “When this ends, when the Cupid-thing wears off, promise me you won’t go after them. You can do whatever you want to me and the world, but you leave Sam and Cas alone. They had nothing to do with this.”
“They had everything to do with this.”
“Promise me you won’t hurt them.”
“I promise.”
“Swear it,” Dean said. “You can have anything but them. Do anything but hurt them. They deserve to be happy.”
Lucifer nodded. “I swear it. No harm will come to them.”
“Good.”
It wasn’t entirely selfish, then.
-.-
When Dean woke up two days later to find himself alone in a smelly, peeling motel room, he wasn’t too surprised. It had been a nice vacation. He would miss the constant presence, the small touches, the laughter at his stupid jokes, the movie buddy, the wardrobe possibilities, and the body lying next to him every morning.
He would miss it all a lot.
-.-
Sam hadn’t really wanted to leave him alone, like he was afraid leaving Dean alone meant leaving Dean vulnerable, and that leaving Dean vulnerable would mean coming back to a pile of ash or pillar of salt in the middle of the room. But it had been a week since the Devil had flown the coop, and demonic omens were mysteriously back to pre-Apocalypse levels and nothing horrific had happened yet.
Sam hadn’t wanted to leave, but Dean had practically pushed him out the door. The older hunter had been climbing the walls, desperate for some time to sort out his thoughts without having to witness another angelic make-out session in the process.
Truth be told, he was concerned. Somewhere along the line things had blurred, and he was missing the Devil more than he was willing to let on. If they ever ran into the wayward angel again, he might be compromised. He needed to think, to regroup, to gather his thoughts in a quiet motel room.
The loud knocking on the door wasn’t helping.
Grumbling about Angel Air and Sam’s inability to hold onto a room key, Dean crossed the room and wrenched the door open. His jaw dropped.
Standing in the doorway holding a large Village Inn box was the Devil himself. “May I come in?”
More than a little dumbstruck, Dean stepped aside. Lucifer brushed past him and into the room, moving to the small table in the corner. He opened up the box and pulled plates and forks from thin air.
“Hungry?” the angel asked, taking a seat. “I brought pie.”
Dean closed the door and ventured warily to the table. There was, indeed, pie in the box. It looked pretty decent, too. Non-lethal, at least.
“It’s French Silk,” Lucifer explained. “I was gonna get apple, but I remembered that story you told me about the scarecrow in Indiana, and decided against it. I hope this is ok.”
The hunter sat down across from him. “It’s fine.”
Lucifer smiled. “Good.” He pushed a slice toward the hunter. “Enjoy.”
Dean, to his credit, waited for the angel to take a bite before deeming the pie safe for consumption, as if it would have made a difference. If Lucifer was there to kill him, there would be no way to stop him. “So,” the hunter said, “last meal?”
“What?”
“You want to feed me before you kill me?”
The angel frowned at that. “I’m not going to kill you, Dean.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“There’s something I needed to tell you.”
“Oh?”
Lucifer nodded. “I’m calling off the Horsemen. The demons are being sent back to Hell. Monsters are going back into hiding. The War is over.”
“Wow. Um. That’s great. What made you change your mind?” Not that he believed it for a minute.
“You.”
Yeah, Dean was definitely not believing it now. “Me?”
“I learned something about humanity last week, Dean. You’re not all selfish animals ruled by base instinct and blind need. You were willing to spare your brother my wrath and take the blunt of it. Very courageous.”
Dean swallowed a particularly stubborn bite, his mouth going suddenly dry. “I was selfish.”
“You think you were selfish. And maybe you were. But as far as I could see, you were willing to give yourself fully to me to save your brother. And if I recall, that same action is what landed us here, isn’t it?”
Dean just stared at him. “The deal?”
“An eternity in Hell to give Sam the chance at a normal life.”
“To not have to live without him.”
“Selfish, selfless, the line blurs. The main point is still the same. You would do anything to keep your brother safe and happy, even if he happens to be in the wrong. Isn’t that right?”
The hunter nodded. “I guess.”
“You fight for a world that will never know your sacrifice, the changes you’ve made to be ignored and belittled, the parts of yourself you’ve lost along the way. You fight because so few do, simply because you can’t not. You ask for nothing in return, not a trip around the world, fine cuisine, even new clothing. You do it because you love it and because someone has to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re a fine example of humanity, Dean Winchester. You give everything and ask for nothing, let Sam take what you covet. You repeatedly sacrifice yourself to keep him safe and happy, going against orders from every authority. You’re the kind of brother I thought I had. You’re the kind of person I wish my brother could be. And that’s why I love you.”
Dean blinked. “What?”
“I love you. You don’t reciprocate, and I can understand that. I don’t expect you to. But I figured you should know. Someone out there loves you, just the way you are. Remember that.”
The hunter stared at him for a long moment, watching as he finished the last bite of his slice and licked the fork clean.
He had thought a lot about how this first post-Cupid meeting would go. In every version his mind could dream up, it ended in pain and bloodshed. It ended with nations crushed to gravel and bodies piled in the streets. It ended with Sam staring at a pyre and refusing to cry as Castiel searched desperately for something torn so completely asunder that there was nothing left to find. None of those scenarios had ended with pie. None of them had ended with the words Dean had just heard. None of them had that warm feeling that was curling its way into his belly as the Devil considered taking another piece.
They were going off script, and he was ok with that.
Dean surged up out of his chair and leaned across the table, grabbing Lucifer by the shirt and hauling him up, smearing chocolate and whipped cream across the table and their clothes. “I reciprocate,” Dean said as he leaned in for their first kiss.