Various October c_f fills
Title: Through a Glass Darkly
Character(s)/Pairing(s): gen or pre-Sam Winchester x Castiel
Theme: Kinks
Prompt: ahavaelwilhouse, Supernatural- Cas/Sam. Sam is coming off a scorching demon-blood high. As he shakes, Cas holds him in the shadow of his wings.
Word Count: 617
Originally Posted: 22 October 2010, here
“You ruined my life,” Dean-who-isn’t-Dean says to Sam, brilliant green eyes narrowed, even as they blaze in hatred and loathing and something darker, more primal. “If it wasn’t for you, Mom would still be here. I’d have grown up a nice, normal life. I could be married. I could have kids. I wouldn’t have gone to Hell. But no. You’re useless without me, always need me to save you. I fucking hate you, Sammy. I hate you!”
Sam closes his eyes and tries to will the apparition away. It’s not as bad as it was before. At least Dean isn’t trying to hurt him. He’s still shaking, nearly trembling out of his own skin, covered in sweat and tears and blood and vomit. He aches all over and he feels like there is fire pulsing through his veins and all he can think is IwantIneedgivemenownownow.
“Samuel.”
It comes from somewhere behind Sam, and he clenches his eyes shut to avoid meeting Castiel’s gaze. The angel-that-isn’t is almost worse than seeing Dad or Dean or Jess. Castiel’s words are sharp and brutal, cutting Sam to the bone with vicious honesty Sam’s never experienced from anyone else before.
“Go away,” Sam pleads. “Please, just go away.”
Castiel doesn’t. He moves until he’s standing behind Sam, before slinking to his knees. They’re not touching, not even remotely, but the demon blood in Sam’s system still flares painfully at the proximity of the angel’s Grace.
Which means it isn’t an allusion, it really is Castiel. “Please, Cas. Leave me alone.”
“This was not your fault,” Castiel says simply. “I cannot fault you when I myself was so affected by Famine as well.”
Sam doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to hear anything. He doesn’t need cheap condolences from an angel that doesn’t like him ninety percent of the time. Sam doesn’t need anything besides demon blood, but since he isn’t going to get that anytime soon (doesn’t want to get it anytime soon, even though he knows he needs it). Being left alone is a close second and it’s all Sam’s been begging for since Dean and Bobby led him back into the panic room.
There’s a whisper of wind, a soft fluttering sound. The trickle of Grace nearly stops Sam’s heart, and when he screams, his eyes snap open and his pupils are nothing but pinpricks. The world has gone dark, like Sam is looking through the smoky glass of an old bottle of whiskey. Everything aches and he feels constricted, smothered by Castiel’s closeness.
It’s not until the flare of pain ebbs away, leaving a dull ache pounding through Sam’s system does he notice what’s going on. If he forces himself to focus, he can see it. It, them. Castiel’s Grace, his wings. They’re huge and dark and despite the fact that they aren’t there their shadow is surrounding Sam, smothering him. More than that, the apparitions have faded. Beyond the transparent glow of Castiel’s ethereal wings is nothing. It’s just a room.
“What - ?” Sam chokes out. His fingers fumble to touch, but Castiel’s Grace sends sharp jolts of electricity through Sam’s body and his fingers pass right through their shadowy surface before he manages to snatch his hand back.
“I would not advise that,” Castiel says. There’s something off about his voice, but Sam isn’t sure what. It’s a mixture of exhaustion and amusement and if Sam was drunk and this wasn’t Castiel, then Sam would almost be positive there was a hint of lust to it as well. “Let me protect you, Samuel.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sam groans. He drags his knees to his chest and lets his forehead fall upon them. He’s still trembling, he’s still aching, he still needs so badly that he’d kill someone to satisfy the all-consuming burning itch, but there’s something else, just below the surface.
For the first time in a long time, Sam feels safe. Inhaling sharply, he clenches his eyes shut and tries to lose himself to the feeling.
Title: Patience is a Virtue
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins
Theme: Kinks
Prompt: sycophantastic, Supernatural, Jensen/Misha, Jensen's tied up & at Misha's mercy... why did he think this would be a good idea?
Word Count: 503
Originally Posted: 23 October 2010, here
“Uh, Misha, what the Hell are you doing?” Jensen asks warily.
Misha glances up from his cellphone, fingers hovering over the keys while he shoots Jensen a condescending look. “Obviously I’m trying to tweet.”
“Obviously,” Jensen snorts. “Don’t you think you have more pressing concerns? Like the fact you tied me to your headboard half an hour ago and have yet to fuck me?”
Misha blinks his big blue eyes slowly, glancing from Jensen’s face to where Jensen’s hands were indeed bound to his headboard with a tie (Castiel’s tie, he likes to borrow it from wardrobe for situations just like this). “I’m getting to it.”
“You’re getting to it,” Jensen deadpans in response. “I don’t know if you noticed but I’m kind of naked and you’ve got the AC on full. It’s a little cold in here. Also, if you don’t touch me in the next five minutes, I’m going to kill you.”
Misha crawls towards Jensen on the bed and straddles his hips. The smug bastard is still fully clothed, but Jensen appreciates the fact he finally has something to rub against. That, and Misha is really warm. “There,” Misha says coyly, “I’m touching you.”
“Why on Earth did I think this would be a good idea?” Jensen asks, letting his eyes slide shut as he groans. “I hate you so much, Misha, I swear to God.”
“Stop complaining or I’ll send my minions a picture of you naked,” Misha says, grinning down at Jensen. He pauses in typing again to pat Jensen’s stomach. “Besides, that’s not what you said last night.”
“Yeah right,” Jensen snorts. He squirms under Misha, determined to get friction, but the slighter actor seems determined to just be a cock teasing pain in the ass. “I know you, Misha. You hate to share.”
Misha grins. “Damn right I hate to share,” he says. “I went through a lot of effort to seduce you.”
“Because quoting weird-ass poetry and sending me vegetable bouquets is what most people consider seducing,” Jensen says, and he can’t fight the grin from slipping onto his face. “We both know it was your weird hippy juice that got me naked in the first place.”
“You wound me,” Misha says in mock pain, tossing his phone to the side to cover his heart with his hand.
“If you don’t get naked right now I’m going to do more than wound you,” Jensen promises.
Misha snorts, but hooks his thumbs behind his head to tug his tee-shirt up and off. He tosses it to the side before trailing his fingers down his chest, pausing to thumb his own nipples before continuing his downward journey.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” Jensen groans when Misha starts to palm himself through his jeans.
“You know you love me,” Misha says, laughing even as he fumbles to undo his belt.
Jensen rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother denying it. He’d accepted the fact he’d maybe, accidentally, kinda fallen in love with his bat-shit crazy co-star ages ago.
Title: Fine, Fresh, Fierce
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x Gabriel
Theme: Kinks
Prompt: tiptoe39, SPN, any/any, semipublic sex
Word Count: 645
Originally Posted: 23 October 2010, here
Gabriel barely has time to brace himself before Sam shoves the archangel back against a brick wall.
Sam’s so impossible big, his presence smothering, and Gabriel thinks he could probably die happy crushed between Sam’s chest and the hard wall of the seedy bar behind him.
Gabriel (not that he’d ever admit it) feels warm and safe.
There’s something decidedly ironic about Sam leading Gabriel out behind a bar to rut against each other desperately, one of Sam’s legs pinned beneath Gabriel’s own.
A year ago Gabriel is positive they would have at least made it back to the motel of the week. He isn’t going to complain when Sam captures his wrists, pinning them over Gabriel’s head before he starts nipping and sucking at the archangel’s jaw.
“You’re too short for this,” Sam huffs into Gabriel’s ear, his voice low and dark. There’s something so heartbreaking about this but Gabriel can’t bring himself to even care.
“Cry harder,” Gabriel snaps. He nips at Sam’s jaw, licking and nuzzling, before Sam captures his lips in a desperate kiss.
Sam bites Gabriel’s lips hard enough to make it bleed (if Gabriel was anyone else, anyways) before forcing his tongue into the archangel’s mouth.
It’s pretty straight to the point after that.
When Sam’s satisfied his urge to kiss Gabriel he pulls back and nips his way down Gabriel’s jaw and throat before biting and sucking a mark into the skin.
Gabriel moans obscenely, doesn’t care that they could get caught, and grinds his cock against Sam’s thigh. He’s hot and hard and he can feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck and if Sam doesn’t fucking touch him soon, Gabriel might just kill him.
“Sam,” Gabriel groans. “You going to get to the point anytime soon?”
“Shut up,” Sam snaps. He pulls away from Gabriel, dropping the archangel’s wrists and freeing his thigh. He doesn’t give Gabriel time to complain before he grips Gabriel’s hips and turns him, pushing the archangel face first against the wall and pressing himself against Gabriel tightly. His cock is a long hard line against Gabriel’s back.
The archangel would shiver, but Sam is pressed too close.
There are no niceties when Sam fumbles Gabriel’s belt open and his fingers are rough when he tugs Gabriel’s jeans open with sharp jerks, shoving them down Gabriel’s legs along with his boxers. Once again, he steps away from the archangel to tug Gabriel’s hips away from the wall, giving himself a better angle.
Gabriel braces his palms on the rough bricks when Sam sucks at his fingers before shoving them into Gabriel roughly, one at a time.
He doesn’t take his time to stretch the archangel, not that Gabriel really needs him to in the first place, and there’s no preamble to Sam spitting in his hand to slick his cock. He pushes in with a hard thrust, inching his way in until he bottoms out.
“Fuck,” Sam groans, bowing over Gabriel’s back to nip at the back of the archangel’s neck. “So fucking tight.”
Gabriel just rolls his eyes before pushing back onto Sam’s cock. “Move,” he says, huffing in annoyance. “I don’t have all night.”
Sam bites down, hard, on the back of Gabriel’s neck, but he obeys. His thrusts are short and fast and brutal, hands curling around Gabriel’s hips tightly while he forces the archangel to remain still.
Gabriel doesn’t mind, he just hangs his head and moans loudly, toes curling and fingers scrambling to find purchase on the rough bricks of the wall. It’s nothing like Gabriel thought sex with Sam would be like, the freaking gentle giant.
Sam is all hands and teeth and punishing thrusts, but Gabriel has a hard time caring when Sam fumbles for Gabriel’s cock and starts to jerk him off, dragging Gabriel to oblivion one sharp thrust at a time.
Title: Glutton for Punishment
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x Gabriel
Theme: Kinks
Prompt: ceilingninja, Supernatural, Sam/Gabriel, candy!porn
Word Count: 230
Originally Posted: 23 October 2010, here
Gabriel loves gummy worms, but they really have no place in bed. Gummy bears are fun, too, but Sam gets annoyed when Gabriel divides them by color and wages wars with them across Sam’s chest and stomach (which is ridiculous, because Gabriel makes the sound effects and everything). M&Ms melt in the mouth, but not in the hand and no matter how time Gabriel spends trying to convince Sam that edible underwear is the way to go, the hunter just won’t budge on the subject.
Gabriel isn’t left with much of a choice in the matter. It’s all down to chocolate syrup and whipped cream and even then it takes forever to convince Sam to let Gabriel drizzle it across the hunter’s chest and down his abdomen. He pools it in his palm before pouring it along the line of Sam’s cock, then curls his fingers along the shaft and tugs it to fullness.
Sam groans at the contact, but he still looks unsure.
Gabriel smirks up at him, because he’s determined to drag Sam into the dark side of food and sex. If he has to kiss and lick and suck chocolate syrup off of Sam’s chest, tongue swirling around nipples before nibbling down ribs until he makes his way to the hunter’s cock in order to do just that, then, well, Gabriel always was a glutton for punishment.
Title: Never supposed to be like this
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel (one-sided), Castiel x Balthazar
Theme: Free-For-All Friday
Prompt: pogozebra, Supernatural, Balthazar/Castiel, "Dean, I am sorry, but there is someone else."
Word Count: 364
Originally Posted: 19 October 2010, here
There’s something decidedly ironic about the entire situation, Dean thinks. Somehow, the universe is having revenge against him. That has to be it, because there’s no other way Dean can really process what’s going on.
The thing is, Dean finally stood up for himself, for what he wanted. He finally made an attempt to take something for himself - not for Sam or for humanity, but for him, for Dean Winchester, the guy who gave everything for everyone.
Castiel was never supposed to just close his eyes and turn his head away in shame. He’s not supposed to be upset and unavailable. He’s supposed to throw himself into Dean’s arms. Together, they’re supposed to - to ride off into the sunset in the Impala or spend the next week making crazy, passionate love and driving Sam up the walls until he threatens to kill them.
Castiel isn’t supposed to say, “Dean, I am sorry, but there is someone else.”
That someone else isn’t supposed to be Balthazar. The guy ran away from Heaven and left Castiel behind. He isn’t supposed to be able to just pop back into Castiel’s life and steal him away with a crude innuendo and a fake grin. He definitely isn’t supposed to be the first person to see Castiel laid bare, to kiss and lick and trace every line of the angel’s borrowed body and tease him all the way to completion.
Dean gets it. He gets that he shouldn’t have waited so long to finally do this, to tell Castiel that he wants him and needs him and doesn’t think he can live without him (because he tried, for a year he honestly tried but it wasn’t the same, it just wasn’t) but… but Castiel has always waited for Dean, has always been there for him, Fell for him and Dean had kind of expected this would be one of those things that Castiel would be there for him for, be with him for.
It’s bad enough that Dean has literally sacrificed everything because the angel asked him to, it’s bad enough that Castiel left him without saying goodbye, he didn’t need to break Dean’s heart in the process.
Title: The Finest Gift
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Alistair x Dean Winchester (non-con), Lillith
Theme: Gifts
Prompt: tigriswolf, Supernatural, Alistair/Dean, Dean was the best gift Lilith ever gave to Alistair
Word Count: 452
Originally Posted: 19 October 2010, here
Everyone screams, when they come to him, in time.
The man before him has yet to break, gritting his teeth and nearly biting off his own tongue to spare Alistair the satisfaction. Even the righteous man can’t stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks, clearing tracks on his dirty, bloodied skin. It’s of little use. The ashes rising from the pits will darken everything, in time, including the brilliant light of Dean’s beautiful green eyes.
They’re starting to dull already, now that he’s learned it hurts less if he just lets Alistair fuck him open, if he doesn’t fight it. The whips and chains and blades and poisons still hurt, still burn, and he always tries to pull away before the initial contact. Not when Alistair is shoving himself inside of Dean though - or a bottle or a stick or a blade - when it comes time for the rape, Dean has developed the ability to slip away, to block his mind and become comfortably numb while Alistair rips him apart at the seams.
It fascinates Alistair in a way he’s not quite sure how to deal with. He’s been in charge of torture for so long, it’s almost a welcome relief to find someone who is even a little immune to his technique. It just means he has to try harder, to dig deeper, cut wider. It gives him an excuse to be inventive, a reason to really dedicate himself to his work. Since he took up his blade for the first time, Alistair has become prideful of his work, and like Hell (literally) was he going to do a shoddy job in tearing apart a soul.
It touches what’s left of him, warms a dark part of a soul every single time Dean’s defiant green eyes meet his, every time he declines Alistair’s offer to rid himself of the rack. Dean’s still waiting to be saved, still certain that he deserves this punishment and it’s almost refreshing. It’s nice to know that there are still people out there who hold themselves personally accountable for the wrongs they’ve done.
Lilith has delivered many souls to Alistair’s hands, but there is no denying anymore that Dean Winchester is his favorite. He is the greatest gift The First One has ever given to Alistair and he nearly treasures every minute he can pull Dean’s skin from his flesh, scrape his eyes out with a spoon and tear his fingernails off finger by finger.
Alistair is almost dreading the day that the righteous man gives in and says “yes,” because things won’t be the same after that. The shift in power will be obvious and the demon will miss his most favorite play toy.
Title: Aftermath
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x Nick
Theme: Free-For-All Friday
Prompt: drabblewriter, Supernatural, Sam/Nick, aftermath
Word Count: 286
Originally Posted: 19 October 2010, here
It’s weird for Sam to look into those eyes and not see the Devil looking back at him. To bump shoulders or knees, and not fear death. Even more, it’s almost scary how easy it is to close his own eyes and to kiss those chapped lips, to worm his way around and in that body and just forget for a minute. Forget everything.
Sam doesn’t swing this way, but he doesn’t really care for anything beyond the now anymore. When the fact he’s still alive and breathing is a miracle in and of itself, he has a hard time caring for much beyond the basics.
The Devil is gone, banished, and his two vessels are left cold and alone on a dark highway somewhere in Arizona (Sam thinks). Sam’s still waiting for the punch line, but in the meantime, he’s okay with tumbling into questionably clean sheets with the only other person who could possibly understand what he has gone through.
In time, Sam knows, that they’re going to have to get real, grow up, that they can’t spend forever entangled together, rocking against each other and breathing in each other’s space. This is forgetting though, this perfect bliss that leaves them both sated and exhausted, and Sam isn’t ready to remember.
He doesn’t want to think about anything beyond what Nick’s skin taste likes, the sounds he makes when Sam scrapes his teeth across his chest and stomach, or the way he feels when Sam buries himself inside of him.
Sam saved the world and his brother has his own life, family. So, Sam thinks it’s understandable if he avoids his mistakes for a little while longer. It’s not like Nick is complaining, anyways.
Title: Men In Black
Character(s)/Pairing(s): pre-Castiel x Gabriel or gen.
Theme: Four Seasons
Prompt: zekkass, Supernatural, Gabriel/Castiel, Men In Black AU - the day Castiel discovers that aliens are out there, and aliens don't have feet that crunch autumn leaves when they're chasing him
Word Count: 408
Originally Posted: 19 October 2010, here
“I couldn’t hear him,” Castiel says numbly when Gabriel finally catches up. He blinks his big eyes slowly, glancing from the blood on his own fingers to the amber eyes of his new partner. “I had thought if we came this way, he’d have no choice but to make a sound.”
“Yeah, aliens are tricky bastards like that sometimes,” Gabriel says. He crouches down in front of Castiel to examine the cut on the younger agent’s forehead, his fingers just skimming under the bloody gash. “You took quite a fall there, buddy.”
“It’s not possible,” Castiel scowls, brushing Gabriel’s hand away. “If something is moving across the leaves, it will need to make a sound. The leaves will make a sound.”
“Am I going to have to listen to another one of your logical tangents?” Gabriel asks, bored.
Castiel ignores him. “It is impossible for the alien to have maneuvered around every single leaf while he was pursuing me. It wouldn’t make sense for him to try. He had far bigger concerns than being heard or not.”
“Obviously not,” Gabriel replies.
“So it has to be something else,” Castiel muses. He looks at his bloody fingers again, before touching at his head wound lightly and hissing. “Unless he wasn’t walking. If he wasn’t walking he wouldn’t touch the leaves and wouldn’t make a sound.”
“You’re saying we’ve got a flying venom-spitting bastard hanging around the downtown area?” Gabriel asks, frowning. “That - that is not good.”
“No,” Castiel agrees. “Gabriel?”
“Yeah?” the older agent asks, sitting back on his heels to look at Castiel better, head cocked to the side. “What’s up?”
“I think I’m bleeding,” Castiel says simply.
Gabriel can’t help the laughter that bubbles up inside of him, and he doesn’t hesitate in leaning forward to brush his lips against Castiel’s forehead. “You are something else, kid,” he says fondly.
Castiel blinks up at him slowly, his fingers moving from the cut to where Gabriel’s lips had brushed against his skin. “I’m not a kid,” he frowns. “I’m only a few years younger than you.”
“That would be the detail you focus on,” Gabriel grins, clapping Castiel’s cheek lightly with his palm. “Come on,” he says, forcing himself to his feet, and stretching lazily, “let’s get you fixed up, Cas.”
Gabriel offers his hand to the younger agent, and Castiel only hesitates for a second before grabbing it and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.
Title: Want vs. Need
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, mentions Dean Winchester x Lisa Braeden
Theme: Dawn
Prompt: stfu_pwentzz, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, Dean understands the situational irony that he's the one who wakes up alone when Castiel leaves before sunrise but one of these days he wishes Cas would just stay.
Word Count: 681
Originally Posted: 13 October 2010, here
Castiel gives Dean what he wants. Everything from the slice of mixed berry pie to the hungry kisses outside of a seedy bar, from a hex bag to protect him from witches to desperate sex in the back of the Impala, from a book on ancient rituals of some obscure Native American tribe to quick and dirty blowjobs on Bobby’s back porch. He lets Dean take whatever he wants, whether it’s simple and innocent or will scar Sam for the rest of his life.
So Dean takes and takes and takes, because that’s all he knows how to do. He lets Castiel bury himself inside of Dean, lets the angel kiss and mark his skin, but it’s for his own twisted benefit. He wants to feel the burn, the ache of something good. He wants to feel wanted, loved. He wants to feel like Castiel still cares even though they haven’t talked in a year, even though the angel left him.
Castiel is always leaving him. Dean’s sure there is something ironic about that. That’s really the only thing Dean is sure about these days. There’s something wrong with Sam, isn’t even sure if it is still Sam. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t love Lisa like she deserves. He doesn’t know if he’ll live to see tomorrow and he doesn’t know when his heart started pounding in his chest every time Castiel wills himself away in the cover of night, when he thinks Dean has fallen asleep. He doesn’t know when he started being terrified of the thought of Castiel never returning.
Dean knows what he wants, he always has. Yeah, the list has changed over the years, but it’s always quintessentially the same; he wants his brother, he wants a family, he wants to spend the rest of his life having amazing sex with Castiel and he maybe wants to settle down with a house and a German Sheppard because he’s always kind of wanted a dog.
What Dean needs though, he doesn’t know how to ask for. He spends weeks writhing beneath Castiel in the dark, clutching at him desperately hoping the angel with just take the Goddamn hint already because Dean doesn’t think he can ask for this. He’s too scared the answer will be “no.” As awesome as it is to feel the stretch and burn of Castiel inside of him, the slick, sweaty slide of skin on skin and the demanding surge of kisses - it’s just not enough.
No matter how many times Dean drifts off with his head on Castiel’s lap or his fingers curled in a vice like grip around the angel’s wrist, Castiel always leaves. He leaves Dean cold and naked and alone and when he comes back he pretends like none of it had happened, like he hadn’t abandoned Dean in the dark like he has been doing for an eternity, like he always does.
What Dean wants quells in importance to what Dean needs, but Dean can’t ask and he won’t ask, so he puts off falling asleep for as long as he can. He likes the way Castiel looks with his eyelashes brushing his cheeks, dark blue eyes half lidded when the sun shines through with morning’s first light. He likes the way Castiel’s fingers card through his hair or trace patterns on Dean’s warm skin. Mostly, he likes the way it feels to have someone in bed with him, someone who loves him despite his faults, someone who knows him inside and out and still comes back to him.
Dean can’t ask Castiel to stay, but every time Castiel brushes his lips against Dean’s cheeks or forehead or lips or shoulders - wherever is closest, really - and Dean fails to reach out, to ask him to stay, he tries to convince himself that tomorrow he will. Tomorrow he’ll drag Castiel back against him and he’ll get to see the morning light wash over Castiel, his expression of tender love and not of quiet regret.
Tomorrow, Dean tells himself, and one of these days, he’s really going to mean it.
Title: Please Don’t Leave Me
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, Dean Winchester x Various Others
Theme: Angst
Prompt: yoruichiyoshi12, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, AU, Dean thought Cas was different, but as usual, he's landed himself another abusive lover
Word Count: 750
Originally Posted: 5 October 2010, here
Dean’s always been a sucker for a pretty face. Male or female, tall or short, pale or dark - doesn’t matter. Give someone big, soulful eyes and a pair of pouty lips and Dean head over heels before he’s even aware he’s fallen.
Back then, it didn’t use to matter what the person was like out of bed, because Dean never bothered to stay around to find out. Ever since Sam got married to Jess (and are now expecting their first kid Jesus Christ his brother is growing up fast), Dean’s kind of felt like maybe it’s time he hangs up his bachelorhood and settle down, too.
It always seemed like a reasonable plan, in theory, but in practice it hasn’t worked out so well. The problem is, Dean doesn’t know how to meet people. All his experience in wooing has been in debatably seedy bars and no on in their right mind goes there to look for a relationship.
Dean’s had his fair share of bad lovers; girls who have screamed and hit him, boys who have screamed and hit him, girls who have cheated on him, boys who’ve been cheating with him, girls that accuse him of raping him, boys that have raped him, girls that steal from him and a once boy who tried to stab him. He regrets most of them, yeah, but he’s moved on.
Which is why when Dean meets Castiel, he’s relieved. Castiel is so painfully normal (if you overlook the fact he’s got a weird, religious name) and he’s everything Dean could ever ask for, really. He’s smart and sarcastic and he knows what he wants to do with his life and he’s not nearly as co-dependent as Dean is. He’s virginal and shy and sometimes he looks at Dean like Dean is the sun and the stars in the sky, and it makes Dean’s heart beat so loudly in his chest he’s sure they can hear it in neighboring states.
It’s why it hurts so Goddamn much when Castiel turns out to be no different than any of the others Dean has let into his bed, into his heart. He doesn’t hit, doesn’t need to, not when he can curl his hand so tightly around Dean’s bicep it leaves a bruising mark for days. He’s possessive and bossy, though, and he’s the only person Dean has ever met who can literally rip his heart out with just a few words.
And the worst part is, Dean knows he doesn’t have to put up with this. He knows he doesn’t have to let Castiel manhandle him to their bed, biting and scratching until Dean gives in and gives him what he wants. He knows he doesn’t have to sit idly by when Castiel threatens him, demeans him, infantilizes him.
He does it anyway, though, because Dean is a glutton for punishment, and he’s pretty much decided being saddled with a jerk is his lot in life. Castiel is better than some of the others have been, Dean’s not actively scared for his life with Castiel, not like he was with Luc or Gordon or Anna. Besides, it’s not like Castiel is like it all of the time, just occasionally, when Dean is being difficult or Castiel’s family is in any way involved.
And Dean knows he’s probably making a huge mistake when he doesn’t kick Castiel out on the streets, but he knows Sam and Jess and his mom love Castiel like a brother and son, and he doesn’t want to worry and upset them.
There’s more to it than just that, of course, but Dean’s not sure he’s ever going to be comfortable mentioning that he’s kind of, sort of in love with Castiel, despite all his faults. He has no doubts Castiel will demand it of him one day, but Dean can’t bring himself to be worried about it when Castiel is curled in his arms and smiling sleepily because Castiel is beautiful when he’s like this, sweet and open and it makes Dean’s heart hurt so much to think that anything he says could set him off into a punishing rage.
And Dean knows he hurts Castiel - not in the same ways that Castiel hurts Dean, never in the same ways - and Dean knows Castiel wants him to push him away, he can see how broken the smaller male is but Dean’s always had this inherent need to fix people and he refuses to give up on Castiel, even now.