No Event || BYOA || Locked to iustiviri and sitsherequietly
Crowley is still going over events in his head, trying to figure out exactly how things ended up like this, so he can make sure to do it again. He'd been in Dean's room, waiting for the hunter to return from his expedition -- yes, he could have just popped in on him as he often did, but he found it amusing, the way it was almost domestic, waiting
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Unlocking the door, Dean pushes it open and heads inside, kicking it shut behind him. "You would not believe the crap I had to go through to get these --" Whatever he'd been about to say dies on his lips at the sight of Cas kissing Crowley and shoved up against the wall. Jealousy surged through him like nothing else and he had to wonder just what he was jealous over and who he was jealous of. "I see I'm interrupting something," Dean said, unable to keep the snap from his tone.
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Fuck, that's a different Cas, isn't it? Son of a bitch.
"If you're gonna fuck around, kindly do it where I don't have to see it. Or you know, find another fucking room, there's thousands of 'em here," Dean snaps, tossing things into cupboards loudly, because he doesn't care and he's too pissed off-jealous to bother with fixing them.
He calms when he sees the pie on the stove cooling, though and it was apple, his favourite. Then he cuts himself a slice because goddammit, he needed the comfort of his favourite food, okay? He isn't even able to form a real thought about what he just witnessed and it pisses him off he's even jealous about it in the first place. If Cas was here why didn't he seek him out first? Why come to Crowley of all fucking people.
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But he doesn't. Instead, he shifts so he's suddenly behind Dean, hands smoothing over the man's shoulders.
"I made you pie."
He'd been intending to impress him, make him take back every disbelieving comment he'd made about Crowley's baking. But he supposes it works as a calming gesture, as well. He's jealous. And the sick part is that there's part of Crowley that wants Dean jealous over him, not just because of his repressed feelings about the angel that wasn't his boyfriend ( ... )
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Okay, so he might like Crowley a little bit more than he thought he did.
"It's good," Dean murmurs, taking another bite. "Thanks." The words are soft and muttered and after a few moments he relaxes a little and pretends he's not leaning back into the warmth of the demon's chest at his back.
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Almost as awkward as the way that Castiel is looking at them, sharp and intent and like this all means something to him and Crowley isn't sure that he likes it. Or maybe he does. He liked that kiss, odd feelings for Dean aside. He liked the intensity, the surprising strength in his hands and the way he held him there.
But he's not thinking about that. Really.
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He finally speaks, gaze still flitting between them, between how Crowley presses in close, how Dean relaxes into the demon, and it fits pieces of understanding together. They're... involved. That is strange but interesting, and Cas doesn't know where this place is, but he nods slowly in quiet understanding, and he's moving closer, standing too close like he always does but hasn't done in a while.
He does not often have time for pleasure, hasn't indulged in it outside the slide of his own fingers, digging through memories of his vessel, the whisper of a voice he'd buried deep; trying to protect him. Pornography had been an interesting discovery, had awoken some of his body's baser urges. That spark that flits over nerves like when he'd kissed Meg, but that had been better, and he wonders, wants more. His head has been a little cloudy since he arrived in the strange room with the incense and the naked dancers.
He shakes his head to try and clear his thoughts.
"I am.. uncertain exactly where I am."
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"Short version? We're stuck in a hotel that makes people have sex sometimes and no there is no convievable way out, we've tried. I've tried for months before now. That's right months. So might as well make yourself cozy, Cas," he says, shrugging a little. He still looks, every now and then, for a way out, but otherwise he doesn't bother too much with it. He's been here almost nine months now.
Dean then cuts himself another piece of pie.
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"You're having sex with Crowley."
Because that is clearly the most important subject here. Castiel isn't jealous, he isn't possessive, not like that, but there's a sharp flicker to his tone because he wants that too. He wants to touch the demon makes infuriatingly suggestive comments, that he's had pinned against walls time and again and never touched because it might break the only upper hand he has. He... he's not sure what he wants from Dean. He wants to apologize, but he doesn't think this Dean even knows his crimes.
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Maybe it's the way he feels a little bit strangely warm, maybe it's the fact that it's not from his timeline. Its not his Dean who hates him, Dean who he's wronged in so, so many ways. It's all for him, but he doesn't expect Dean to understand that. Because Dean can't fathom defeat, can't fathom an enemy too big to fight, and so he will gladly let him hate him, because he knows his brother, knows they would be dead in their bed, locked away so deep in Heaven Castiel couldn't get to them if they tried to stop Raphael. Everything is always for Dean, even when he hurts him.
He shifts, looks into Dean's green eyes with his intense blues, a vague feeling that he should be saying something, but he's not sure what, and so he just stands there looking awkward. Interested, but half assured he can't have it. It doesn't change the truth of his words, however.
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But him? He's just... a human. A puny, normal human compared to these all powerful beings. And Cas was an angel at that. Demons, okay it was kind of expected, because demons. But angels? That's, no. Cas couldn't mean him. Cas was too good for him. He'd gone to hell, slaughtered innocent souls and started the goddamn Apocalypse. How could Cas ever see anything good in him let alone want to taint himself by touching him?
"... Excuse me?"
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Cas' brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side as if he couldn't quite put together what he was saying wrong. Was this wrong? Was Dean upset again, like when he'd kissed Crowley? Human sentiments were still hard to navigate, even if he'd learned more, learned about deception and betrayal. He sighed, reaching out, pressing a hand to Crowley's side, and his other to Dean's chest. Words never seemed to work so well anyway.
He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to get what he wanted, and really, being pushed away was the most likely response. But, there was that warmth, that hunger that was itching subtly at him, pushing at him to try and take this. Trapped here; maybe he could pretend that he hadn't fallen so far.
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Hell yeah he wanted this.
Then Dean pulled away, teeth biting at Cas' lower lip, tugging gently before he switched tactics and leaned in to take Crowley's lips in a kiss as well, hand sliding from the demon's hip to around his waist as he pulled him in flush against his side, tongue fucking Crowley's mouth in a way it could be seen, viewable if anyone, say an angel, were watching.
When he pulled back he was panting, already more than half hard in his jeans and flush with feverish arousal. It hadn't even dawned on him that he might be drugged.
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