Fic: Destiel, Actually [2/5]
AUTHOR: bloodism
TITLE: Destiel, Actually [2/5]
FANDOM: Supernatural
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Dean/Castiel
WORD COUNT: 15,921
THIS CHAPTER: 3,811
WARNING: Sexual content.
SUMMARY: Picture your typical rom-com cliché. Now picture Dean stuck in that rom-com cliché. With Castiel. Because that's what happening to him - a crazy whirlwind of your typical-and-not-so-typical cliché's. He's playing the main lead in all of them and Castiel's his counterpart. Of course, the culprit is obvious. Gabe's enjoying himself too much, lying back on his favourite cloud with a tub of salted popcorn.
It was about time someone kicked the two knuckleheads into gear.
"And... ACTION!"
(A/N: I used a traditional siren, not the one from 4.14. I also changed some of the mythology regarding the way to kill them. The bit of information Sam gives Dean is also made up.)
3 - Embrace the nakedness
Castiel tries summoning Gabriel nicely, but he’s a no show. Which is fine, because a few weeks pass and nothing else happens. Dean’s glad - the past two experiences he’d shared with Cas weren’t exactly comfortable, and things between them had been a little tense since then.
It’s pretty obvious when things start piping up again. Because Sam and Dean are lounging at Bobby’s, enjoying a weekend off, when Castiel walks in from the kitchen with nothing but briefs to protect his modesty.
It actually takes Sam and Dean a while to register that yeah, this is Castiel in front of them and no, he isn’t wearing clothes.
“Um, Cas,” Dean starts, clearing his throat, “Where are your clothes?”
Castiel looks down at himself and then his head flies back up, an angry mutter spilling from his lips. It’s clear this isn’t the first time it’s happened.
“Gabriel,” he says and that’s reason enough for Dean. Dean tries to keep his eyes firmly on Castiel’s face, because there’s something that’s scratching at the back of his head, telling him that looking any further down would be inappropriate.
“What exactly is Gabriel trying to do?” Sam asks curiously after a moment’s silence. He’s looking between Dean and Castiel from where he’s sprawled out on the sofa and doesn’t seem affected by Castiel’s clothe-less presence. He had actually raised a sticky question, though - what was Gabriel’s game? Sure, he’d stuck Castiel and Dean in some awkward situations, but that didn’t explain much. Dean tips back on his chair while he ponders it.
“He’s behaving like a cherub,” Castiel says angrily and judging by the cautious expression that suddenly gets thrown up after he says it, it wasn’t something he had intended to say out loud.
“A cherub? You mean he’s acting like Cupid?” Dean doesn’t like the amusement and realisation spreading through Sam’s face and voice, considering he hasn’t quite caught on himself yet, “He’s trying to set you and Dean up?”
Dean tips back too far. He and the chair fall to the floor with a clatter.
Sam and Castiel don’t even spare him a glance and Dean’s glad - the angry flush that had spread to his cheeks wasn’t something Sam was likely to let him forget. He waits a few minutes, lying on the floor, willing the heat away, and then he clambers to his feet.
“Your dick of a brother is trying to hook us up?” Dean asks with disbelief. Castiel looks over to him anxiously.
“I believe he’s under the impression that you are the reason I rebelled against Heaven, and therefore believe my feelings run deeper than I let on,” Castiel says tiresomely. Almost like it’s not the first time he’s been questioned about his loyalties.
“Well… do they? Your feelings I mean,” Sam asks nervously. He smiles uneasily at Dean and Castiel, who are watching him with speculative gazes, “Do you have secret feelings for Dean or something-“
“No,” Castiel and Dean say at the same time, though Castiel is calm and Dean is filled with outrage. Of course Cas didn’t like him. That was ridiculous. Sam shrugs and smiles at them both, a twinkle in his eye.
“I dunno, I guess I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Neither Dean nor Cas seem to be willing to put up an argument. Then, after accidentally glancing at Castiel’s too-tight briefs again, Dean lets out an exasperated huff.
“Dude, put some clothes on. This is freaking me out.”
He blinks, and the trench coat ensemble is back in place. Tension that Dean hadn’t known was present falls out of his shoulders and he sits back in his chair.
Crisis over.
4 - Mrs Castiel
“This is Gabriel,” Dean grinds out from between his teeth at Sam, whose amusement is shining through his eyes.
“I dunno, Dean. Seems a bit too much work for an angel who wants a little fun.”
“Siren at a homo convention? Only couples allowed? You really think this is a coincidence?” Dean snaps. He glares at Castiel. “You need to get your brothers ass down here, so I can kick it.”
Castiel doesn’t answer, just lowers his chin and frowns lightly at him.
“You know I’d go, but…” Sam trails off.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’ve gotta work your nerdy magic and hack into the security system. Just be quick, okay?” Dean huffs and readjusts his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the discomfort that crawls up his spine. In a fast movement, he reaches across and clutches Cas’s hand roughly in his own. “Let’s go, honey.”
Dean hears Sam snort behind him and the fact that his brother is finding the situation amusing eases him up a little. That was how he should be looking at - just another strange day on the job. That was it. After all, only straight men could act gay without worrying about accidentally swinging the wrong way.
Castiel seems a little perplexed at the hand-holding, but pleased nonetheless. He evens tightens his fingers a little around Dean’s, which Dean completely ignores. When they reach the desk, there’s an average looking guy with shortly-cropped blonde hair and too-tight clothing smiling brightly at them.
“Welcome to the LGBT Convention for Loving Couples!” The boy’s brightness fades a little as he looks between the two of them. “Um, excuse me for being rude, but you don’t seem like a loving couple.”
Yeah, damn right we don’t, Dean want so say, but instead he smiles tightly.
“It’s his first time with a guy,” he jerks his head into Castiel’s direction. The uncertainty in the boy’s eyes quickly fades and he smiles radiantly, handing them a leaflet.
“You’ve been missing out, dude,” he winks at Castiel and nods them through. Dean storms forwards, pulling Castiel behind him, hands still clamped tightly together.
“Let’s get this over with,” he mutters, before pushing his way through the pair of double doors. They’re in a big hall, dark wooden walls decorated with various pictures of male models sprawled over each other and a dance floor in the centre, filled with a throng of men and women. The music playing is surprisingly classy - not trashy, sweaty pop music, like Dean had expected.
“Sam said the siren will most likely be in a form that will receive a lot of attention,” Castiel says, narrowing his eyes at the occupants of the room. Dean tugs him into a dark corner, allowing them to survey the room without looking suspicious.
It takes a while, but Dean finally spots him. In the corner opposite them, there’s a dark-haired guy. Dean’s as straight as a pin, but even he has to admit, this guy is out-of-this-world kind of attractive - he’s got perfectly styled brown hair with a fringe that falls just above vibrant blue eyes and a small face that looks both feminine and masculine.
“There,” Dean lifts his left hand to point, but it’s still clasped around Castiel’s. He drops it and raises his other hand. Castiel follows the pointing gesture with a furrowed brow.
As though sensing the sudden scrutiny, the siren turns away from the crowd he’s speaking to and his eyes connect with Castiel’s. Dean tenses up and the wary frost that had stuck to his spine grows when neither of them looks away.
“Cas?” Dean nudges him with his elbow. Castiel doesn’t flinch. Dean’s invisible to him now.
The angel’s feet move forwards by themselves, the hand that Dean’s clasping slowly slipping away. Castiel is walking forwards stiffly and Dean can’t do anything but watch. He pulls out his mobile and dials Sam’s number. Sam picks up after the first ring.
“Please say you’ve cracked the code. The son of a bitch has mind-whammied Cas,” Dean says.
“Yeah, I’m in. It’s the guy in the corner right?” Sam’s crackly voice says through the phone speaker. Dean watches Castiel’s departing back.
“Yes, it’s him, just hurry up and do it so I can gank his ass!”
“Dean, I can’t, we have to wait until he’s out of the room,” Sam replies, almost apologetically. The siren parts the crowd and meets Castiel half-way, outstretching a hand towards him. Dean’s crushing his teeth together, watching as the siren and Castiel walk away from him, away from the crowd, away from the hall.
Of all the people he had to choose from, it just had to be Cas. There’s no way Gabriel has nothing to do with this.
“Follow him,” Sam says. With the phone still pressed to his ear, Dean dodges and swerves his way around the grinding men and snogging women, keeping his gaze firmly on the tan trenchcoat. They burst through a set of double doors and Dean follows them.
That’s when Sam presses the button. The doors slam shut and they lock, leaving Dean, Cas and the siren alone in the deserted hallway. The building’s on lockdown.
The siren has Castiel pressed against the wall, face dangerously close, eyes heavily-lidded with lust. Castiel has need and want etched into his features, and it looks so out of place, a jolt of anger spreads through Dean. Because this guy, this siren, is manipulating Cas in a sexual way, and the only thing that has been known to scare Cas since he’d fell to Earth? Sexual experiences.
He throws himself forwards and lunges at the siren, plan be damned. His fist connects with the guys jaw and he tumbles backwards, away from Cas, who’s still entranced, leaning against the wall with flushed cheeks and blown pupils.
“You sick bastard,” Dean growls, stepping forwards, hand stretching towards his back to reach for his knife. But the siren’s too fast; Dean finds himself pressed to the wall and the siren’s crushing their hips together hard.
“Hunter,” the siren hisses, a sly grin spreading across his face. The friction is almost painful against Dean’s crotch and he sucks in a breath, head slamming backwards against the wall. “I wanted myself a little bit of angel, but you know,” he licks a stripe up Dean’s neck and Dean tries to push him away in disgust. He’s too strong. “I guess you might be tastier.”
Dean tries to move his arm to his upper back for the bronze dagger tucked into his belt, but there’s a harmony that makes his movements freeze. It’s a sweet, angelic sound, playing in his head. He struggles in alarm, glaring down at the siren, trying to push him away. He’s grinning cruelly, head tipping sideways.
“Oh? How interesting, ” he hisses, baring his teeth. His bright blue eyes are sparkling, but Dean’s far from entranced. The tune in his head is dulled, like he’s hearing music that’s playing through a wall. “Seems you’re immune to my charms, Winchester. Guess I’ll have to get my meal some other way.”
Before Dean can blink, he’s released and his body is slumping forwards, breath catching in the back of his throat. He straightens up quickly, firm frown in place, reaching behind him for the bronze knife, ready to slice the creepy motherfucker.
But then he’s got fists in his t-shirt again and he’s pushed against the wall with a different set of hands. It’s Castiel who’s thrusting forwards, hips pressing against his. A spike of lust that’s definitely not his shoots up his spine.
“How about you two give me a little show, hm?” The siren’s seated himself atop a trash can, expression alight and beautiful. Dean screws his eyes shut when Castiel leans forwards and starts sucking hungrily on his throat, hips pushing into his with a harsh rhythm.
“You son of a bitch, turn him back,” Dean growls breathlessly. He knows that the desire he’s feeling isn’t his own - it’s being forced into him through Castiel, who’s watching him with wide eyes. Dean can see the panic behind the raw lust, the confusion clouding over the blue pupils. He eases himself back into the wall, pushing down the low growl that threatens to spill out when Cas jerks his pelvis against his in a long, excruciating grind. Fuck, no.
Castiel’s knee shoves in between his parted legs and the breath Dean sucks in is stuttered, eyes fluttering. Castiel is losing it, forehead rolling along Dean’s collarbone, mouth pressing through the fabric, hips jutting deliciously. Dean closes his eyes and raises his hands to grip Cas’s forearms.
“Don’t. Cas, don’t. You can’t-“ he lets slip a winded gasp. If either of them blow their load, they’re gonna be siren fodder.
But the forced desire that’s thrumming through Dean’s body is too much and he’s getting closer, closer than Cas, who’s still panting and jerking his covered erection against Dean’s thigh.
Sam’s there. He bursts through the door, the device he’d used to unlock it in one hand, knife in the other. He doesn’t waste time. He hurls the knife as hard as he can and it flies through the air before burying itself deep into the siren’s heart. The siren gurgles, blood trickling down the smooth skin of his chin, and he’s dead before he hits the floor.
Castiel’s frozen, but his leg is still shoved between Dean’s and Dean’s close, so so so close, the borrowed lust still lingering. Cas lifts his head, eyes wide and horrified.
“Dean,” and then he moves his knee, brushing over the head of Dean’s cock through his jeans, and it’s too much. Dean goes flying over the edge, head snapping back, eyes clenching shut and fingertips digging into Castiel’s shoulders as he rides out his orgasm, a broken gasp falling from his lips.
When he comes back down, Cas is holding him up, fingers grasping his biceps. Their positions are mirrored.
Dean raises his head and their gazes meet. He can’t figure out what it is he’s seeing there - Cas’s pupils are still blown wide, but they no longer look frightened or apologetic. They’re curious.
Sam’s mild noise of disgust makes him look away.
“Oh, man, that’s just gross. Couldn’t you have waited until I was outside?”
The heat that spreads to Dean’s face is so fierce it feels like the flames from Hell are scorching his skin. He knocks Cas’s hands away with his own and squeezes himself out from between him and the wall, looking down at his soiled trousers. There certainly wasn’t any visible evidence that he’d just come in them like a horny teen, but he could definitely feel it.
“It was the siren, Sam. Don’t get any funny ideas,” he says, pointing behind him whilst continuing to eye up his crotch. He hears Castiel move behind him and flips around quickly, eyeing up the angel warily.
“Dean-“ Castiel begins. Dean holds up a hand.
“Save it. Just…” Dean turns, closing his eyes in exhaustion. He was sick of it, this game that Gabriel was playing. He wanted out. “Save it.”
There’s a heavy silence that stretches out between the three.
“Cas,” Sam says quietly, “We need to talk to your brother.”
-
It takes a while, but they’ve got it. Everything needed to forcefully summon an archangel laid out cleanly in Bobby’s scrapyard. Castiel tells them they can only summon Gabriel because he’s been on Earth for so long and that trying it with any other archangel would be suicide. Dean doesn’t need to be told twice.
He nods sternly at Sam, who throws the match he’s holding onto the sigil. It sets alight quickly, the flames licking at the dirty gravel. The embers collide and connect, forming the symbol completely, and then Sam says the archangels name.
There’s a harsh, erratic flutter of wings and then the archangel is in front of them, bowed over on the floor, the flames on the inside of the sigil extinguished.Castiel is eyeing him up with awed caution, whereas Sam and Dean are leaning forwards because he looks familiar…
His head snaps up and they jerk back.
“No frickin’ way,” Dean mutters in disbelief. It’s the Trickster in front of them, playful smirk spreading over his lips. The guy rises to his feet, brushing off his knees.
“You know, being yanked away from the beginning of what was going to be a fantastic orgy by a couple of yahoo’s like you really is a buzzkill,” the Trickster widens his arms, “Sam, Dean,” he drags out their names, “nice to see you again!”
Sam’s jaw is clenched and so is Dean’s. They glare at the archangel furiously for a few minutes and Dean knows that he’s waiting for them to say something. ‘Gabriel’ caves first.
“Oh, fine. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was an angel. Would it soothe your tiny little brains if I said that I invented the Trickster?So technically, I haven’t lied to you at all,” he smiles brightly at them. They’re still glaring at him with a mixture of disgust and betrayal.
“Gabriel,” Castiel says when it’s clear neither Sam nor Dean is going to speak, “we would appreciate it if you stopped meddling with Dean and me.”Gabriel turns to him like he’s only just realised his presence, feigning innocence.
“Meddling? Me? You’ve got the wrong guy, bro.”
“Clam it, asshat, we know it’s you,” Dean’s found his voice again and it’s low and hostile. He steps forwards, “You just love messing with people’s lives, don’t you?”
Gabriel’s naïve expression contorts into one of mischief.
“How could I resist, Deano? I checked up on my little bro here after hearing he’d rebelled against Heaven and wow, was I surprised,” he smiles at Castiel, “he’d thrown it all away for whimpering, pathetic Dean Winchester.”
Dean keeps his firm, deadly gaze on Gabriel, pushing back the urge to monitor Castiel’s reaction. Gabriel shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I figured there had to be some kind of ridiculous reason he’d do that. Castiel’s one of the more sensible angels, see. And well, my clever little mind came up with the obvious solution,” he spread his arms, “he’s in love with you. You’re in love with him.”
Sam coughs beside him, covering up a bark of laughter, and Dean feels like he’s been pushed backwards, even though his feet are still firmly on the ground. Cas, in love with him? Right.
“You are one disturbed asshole, you know that?” Dean replies. Gabriel half-shrugs.
“If by ‘disturbed’ you mean ‘has eyes’, sure. You two have been barking up each other’s’ tree since Cassie here made his grand entrance. I’m just playing as the ladder.”
“Well stop,” Castiel cuts in, “This isn’t a game, Gabriel.”
There’s a moment of hopeful silence, where Gabriel falls into deep thought. Dean can see when he makes his final decision and his gut twists.
“Sorry, bucko’s, this is one ride I’m not ever getting off of. You two are the most fun I’ve had in ages,” he waggles his eyebrows, “Time to step up and play your roles, boys.”
And then he’s gone.
Sam moves forward in alarm.
“He… How did he…”
There’s an object leaning across the edge of the sigil. A condom wrapper. Dean lets out a livid snarl and turns around, kicking the dirt.
“Son of a bitch,” he growls. How long was it going to last? What else was he going to make them do? Hell, he just hoped Gabriel knew when to not cross the line, because he was not going to deflower an angel.
“Come on, Dean,” Sam coaxes, “Acting like this is just gonna make it more entertaining for the sick bastard. Play it cool.”
Dean closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. Sam’s right. I’ve just got to keep my game face on.
With a quick ruffle of his shoulders, he’s resumed his natural stance, neutral expression on his face. He turns and heads towards Cas, slapping him on the shoulder supportively.
“Let’s give your dick of a brother one lame ass show.”
-
“Hey,” Sam says suddenly later that evening, looking up from the book that’s open in front of him, “The siren… why did he set you and Cas on each other?”
Dean cringes from his seat on the sofa, giving his brother his I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-this face. He didn’t even want to know what Sam must have been thinking to have that question suddenly spawn in his mind. With a forced shrug, Dean looks back at the television.
“Said something about me being ‘immune to his charms’,” Dean smirked lightly, “Told you; I’m straighter than the stick that’s shoved up Cas’s ass.”
There’s a gentle noise of amusement expelled from the table and Dean turns his head to look at his brother in confusion.
“What?”
“Come here,” Sam gestures with his hand, enticing him over with a wide smile caked over his face. Dean hauls himself off the sofa, both curious about what was so hilarious and irritated that the joke seemed to be on him. He grips the back of Sam’s chair and leans over his shoulder, looking down at the book that Sam taps with his index finger.
“’There have been accounts in the past of sailors who have heard the sirens song in their heads, but haven’t fallen under their spell’” Sam reads out, finger trailing along the sentence. When he hesitates, Dean encourages him to continue with a nod. Sam sniffs, attempting to regain the composure that he’s slowly losing. “’One man who had followed his male lover to the siren was told by the creature that he was unable to fall under his spell, since he had already been claimed by his soulmate. These types of people are usually the more submissive half of the soul connection’-“Sam cuts himself off when he quickly glances at Dean, laughter finally spilling free from his lips. He slaps the table with his hand as he laughs, pointing at Dean.
“You should see your face, man.”
“You think me and Cas are soulmates? Are you frickin’ insane?” Dean leans forwards and yanks the book towards him, eyes scanning the text quickly. Yep, it’s there. Sam wasn’t making it up. Dean pulls a face. “Submissive? No way.” He throws the book away from him and stalks out of the living room, pulling a glass out of the cupboard and filling it with water.
Sam’s still chuckling in the living room while Dean presses a hand into the counter to keep himself up, trying very hard not to think about him underneath Castiel in a seemingly-not-platonic situation.
Yeah right. I’d totally be the dom.
And then he empties his glass, sucks in a breath, and walks back into the living room to smack Sam around the back of the head.
TITLE: Destiel, Actually [2/5]
FANDOM: Supernatural
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Dean/Castiel
WORD COUNT: 15,921
THIS CHAPTER: 3,811
WARNING: Sexual content.
SUMMARY: Picture your typical rom-com cliché. Now picture Dean stuck in that rom-com cliché. With Castiel. Because that's what happening to him - a crazy whirlwind of your typical-and-not-so-typical cliché's. He's playing the main lead in all of them and Castiel's his counterpart. Of course, the culprit is obvious. Gabe's enjoying himself too much, lying back on his favourite cloud with a tub of salted popcorn.
It was about time someone kicked the two knuckleheads into gear.
"And... ACTION!"
(A/N: I used a traditional siren, not the one from 4.14. I also changed some of the mythology regarding the way to kill them. The bit of information Sam gives Dean is also made up.)
3 - Embrace the nakedness
Castiel tries summoning Gabriel nicely, but he’s a no show. Which is fine, because a few weeks pass and nothing else happens. Dean’s glad - the past two experiences he’d shared with Cas weren’t exactly comfortable, and things between them had been a little tense since then.
It’s pretty obvious when things start piping up again. Because Sam and Dean are lounging at Bobby’s, enjoying a weekend off, when Castiel walks in from the kitchen with nothing but briefs to protect his modesty.
It actually takes Sam and Dean a while to register that yeah, this is Castiel in front of them and no, he isn’t wearing clothes.
“Um, Cas,” Dean starts, clearing his throat, “Where are your clothes?”
Castiel looks down at himself and then his head flies back up, an angry mutter spilling from his lips. It’s clear this isn’t the first time it’s happened.
“Gabriel,” he says and that’s reason enough for Dean. Dean tries to keep his eyes firmly on Castiel’s face, because there’s something that’s scratching at the back of his head, telling him that looking any further down would be inappropriate.
“What exactly is Gabriel trying to do?” Sam asks curiously after a moment’s silence. He’s looking between Dean and Castiel from where he’s sprawled out on the sofa and doesn’t seem affected by Castiel’s clothe-less presence. He had actually raised a sticky question, though - what was Gabriel’s game? Sure, he’d stuck Castiel and Dean in some awkward situations, but that didn’t explain much. Dean tips back on his chair while he ponders it.
“He’s behaving like a cherub,” Castiel says angrily and judging by the cautious expression that suddenly gets thrown up after he says it, it wasn’t something he had intended to say out loud.
“A cherub? You mean he’s acting like Cupid?” Dean doesn’t like the amusement and realisation spreading through Sam’s face and voice, considering he hasn’t quite caught on himself yet, “He’s trying to set you and Dean up?”
Dean tips back too far. He and the chair fall to the floor with a clatter.
Sam and Castiel don’t even spare him a glance and Dean’s glad - the angry flush that had spread to his cheeks wasn’t something Sam was likely to let him forget. He waits a few minutes, lying on the floor, willing the heat away, and then he clambers to his feet.
“Your dick of a brother is trying to hook us up?” Dean asks with disbelief. Castiel looks over to him anxiously.
“I believe he’s under the impression that you are the reason I rebelled against Heaven, and therefore believe my feelings run deeper than I let on,” Castiel says tiresomely. Almost like it’s not the first time he’s been questioned about his loyalties.
“Well… do they? Your feelings I mean,” Sam asks nervously. He smiles uneasily at Dean and Castiel, who are watching him with speculative gazes, “Do you have secret feelings for Dean or something-“
“No,” Castiel and Dean say at the same time, though Castiel is calm and Dean is filled with outrage. Of course Cas didn’t like him. That was ridiculous. Sam shrugs and smiles at them both, a twinkle in his eye.
“I dunno, I guess I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Neither Dean nor Cas seem to be willing to put up an argument. Then, after accidentally glancing at Castiel’s too-tight briefs again, Dean lets out an exasperated huff.
“Dude, put some clothes on. This is freaking me out.”
He blinks, and the trench coat ensemble is back in place. Tension that Dean hadn’t known was present falls out of his shoulders and he sits back in his chair.
Crisis over.
4 - Mrs Castiel
“This is Gabriel,” Dean grinds out from between his teeth at Sam, whose amusement is shining through his eyes.
“I dunno, Dean. Seems a bit too much work for an angel who wants a little fun.”
“Siren at a homo convention? Only couples allowed? You really think this is a coincidence?” Dean snaps. He glares at Castiel. “You need to get your brothers ass down here, so I can kick it.”
Castiel doesn’t answer, just lowers his chin and frowns lightly at him.
“You know I’d go, but…” Sam trails off.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’ve gotta work your nerdy magic and hack into the security system. Just be quick, okay?” Dean huffs and readjusts his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the discomfort that crawls up his spine. In a fast movement, he reaches across and clutches Cas’s hand roughly in his own. “Let’s go, honey.”
Dean hears Sam snort behind him and the fact that his brother is finding the situation amusing eases him up a little. That was how he should be looking at - just another strange day on the job. That was it. After all, only straight men could act gay without worrying about accidentally swinging the wrong way.
Castiel seems a little perplexed at the hand-holding, but pleased nonetheless. He evens tightens his fingers a little around Dean’s, which Dean completely ignores. When they reach the desk, there’s an average looking guy with shortly-cropped blonde hair and too-tight clothing smiling brightly at them.
“Welcome to the LGBT Convention for Loving Couples!” The boy’s brightness fades a little as he looks between the two of them. “Um, excuse me for being rude, but you don’t seem like a loving couple.”
Yeah, damn right we don’t, Dean want so say, but instead he smiles tightly.
“It’s his first time with a guy,” he jerks his head into Castiel’s direction. The uncertainty in the boy’s eyes quickly fades and he smiles radiantly, handing them a leaflet.
“You’ve been missing out, dude,” he winks at Castiel and nods them through. Dean storms forwards, pulling Castiel behind him, hands still clamped tightly together.
“Let’s get this over with,” he mutters, before pushing his way through the pair of double doors. They’re in a big hall, dark wooden walls decorated with various pictures of male models sprawled over each other and a dance floor in the centre, filled with a throng of men and women. The music playing is surprisingly classy - not trashy, sweaty pop music, like Dean had expected.
“Sam said the siren will most likely be in a form that will receive a lot of attention,” Castiel says, narrowing his eyes at the occupants of the room. Dean tugs him into a dark corner, allowing them to survey the room without looking suspicious.
It takes a while, but Dean finally spots him. In the corner opposite them, there’s a dark-haired guy. Dean’s as straight as a pin, but even he has to admit, this guy is out-of-this-world kind of attractive - he’s got perfectly styled brown hair with a fringe that falls just above vibrant blue eyes and a small face that looks both feminine and masculine.
“There,” Dean lifts his left hand to point, but it’s still clasped around Castiel’s. He drops it and raises his other hand. Castiel follows the pointing gesture with a furrowed brow.
As though sensing the sudden scrutiny, the siren turns away from the crowd he’s speaking to and his eyes connect with Castiel’s. Dean tenses up and the wary frost that had stuck to his spine grows when neither of them looks away.
“Cas?” Dean nudges him with his elbow. Castiel doesn’t flinch. Dean’s invisible to him now.
The angel’s feet move forwards by themselves, the hand that Dean’s clasping slowly slipping away. Castiel is walking forwards stiffly and Dean can’t do anything but watch. He pulls out his mobile and dials Sam’s number. Sam picks up after the first ring.
“Please say you’ve cracked the code. The son of a bitch has mind-whammied Cas,” Dean says.
“Yeah, I’m in. It’s the guy in the corner right?” Sam’s crackly voice says through the phone speaker. Dean watches Castiel’s departing back.
“Yes, it’s him, just hurry up and do it so I can gank his ass!”
“Dean, I can’t, we have to wait until he’s out of the room,” Sam replies, almost apologetically. The siren parts the crowd and meets Castiel half-way, outstretching a hand towards him. Dean’s crushing his teeth together, watching as the siren and Castiel walk away from him, away from the crowd, away from the hall.
Of all the people he had to choose from, it just had to be Cas. There’s no way Gabriel has nothing to do with this.
“Follow him,” Sam says. With the phone still pressed to his ear, Dean dodges and swerves his way around the grinding men and snogging women, keeping his gaze firmly on the tan trenchcoat. They burst through a set of double doors and Dean follows them.
That’s when Sam presses the button. The doors slam shut and they lock, leaving Dean, Cas and the siren alone in the deserted hallway. The building’s on lockdown.
The siren has Castiel pressed against the wall, face dangerously close, eyes heavily-lidded with lust. Castiel has need and want etched into his features, and it looks so out of place, a jolt of anger spreads through Dean. Because this guy, this siren, is manipulating Cas in a sexual way, and the only thing that has been known to scare Cas since he’d fell to Earth? Sexual experiences.
He throws himself forwards and lunges at the siren, plan be damned. His fist connects with the guys jaw and he tumbles backwards, away from Cas, who’s still entranced, leaning against the wall with flushed cheeks and blown pupils.
“You sick bastard,” Dean growls, stepping forwards, hand stretching towards his back to reach for his knife. But the siren’s too fast; Dean finds himself pressed to the wall and the siren’s crushing their hips together hard.
“Hunter,” the siren hisses, a sly grin spreading across his face. The friction is almost painful against Dean’s crotch and he sucks in a breath, head slamming backwards against the wall. “I wanted myself a little bit of angel, but you know,” he licks a stripe up Dean’s neck and Dean tries to push him away in disgust. He’s too strong. “I guess you might be tastier.”
Dean tries to move his arm to his upper back for the bronze dagger tucked into his belt, but there’s a harmony that makes his movements freeze. It’s a sweet, angelic sound, playing in his head. He struggles in alarm, glaring down at the siren, trying to push him away. He’s grinning cruelly, head tipping sideways.
“Oh? How interesting, ” he hisses, baring his teeth. His bright blue eyes are sparkling, but Dean’s far from entranced. The tune in his head is dulled, like he’s hearing music that’s playing through a wall. “Seems you’re immune to my charms, Winchester. Guess I’ll have to get my meal some other way.”
Before Dean can blink, he’s released and his body is slumping forwards, breath catching in the back of his throat. He straightens up quickly, firm frown in place, reaching behind him for the bronze knife, ready to slice the creepy motherfucker.
But then he’s got fists in his t-shirt again and he’s pushed against the wall with a different set of hands. It’s Castiel who’s thrusting forwards, hips pressing against his. A spike of lust that’s definitely not his shoots up his spine.
“How about you two give me a little show, hm?” The siren’s seated himself atop a trash can, expression alight and beautiful. Dean screws his eyes shut when Castiel leans forwards and starts sucking hungrily on his throat, hips pushing into his with a harsh rhythm.
“You son of a bitch, turn him back,” Dean growls breathlessly. He knows that the desire he’s feeling isn’t his own - it’s being forced into him through Castiel, who’s watching him with wide eyes. Dean can see the panic behind the raw lust, the confusion clouding over the blue pupils. He eases himself back into the wall, pushing down the low growl that threatens to spill out when Cas jerks his pelvis against his in a long, excruciating grind. Fuck, no.
Castiel’s knee shoves in between his parted legs and the breath Dean sucks in is stuttered, eyes fluttering. Castiel is losing it, forehead rolling along Dean’s collarbone, mouth pressing through the fabric, hips jutting deliciously. Dean closes his eyes and raises his hands to grip Cas’s forearms.
“Don’t. Cas, don’t. You can’t-“ he lets slip a winded gasp. If either of them blow their load, they’re gonna be siren fodder.
But the forced desire that’s thrumming through Dean’s body is too much and he’s getting closer, closer than Cas, who’s still panting and jerking his covered erection against Dean’s thigh.
Sam’s there. He bursts through the door, the device he’d used to unlock it in one hand, knife in the other. He doesn’t waste time. He hurls the knife as hard as he can and it flies through the air before burying itself deep into the siren’s heart. The siren gurgles, blood trickling down the smooth skin of his chin, and he’s dead before he hits the floor.
Castiel’s frozen, but his leg is still shoved between Dean’s and Dean’s close, so so so close, the borrowed lust still lingering. Cas lifts his head, eyes wide and horrified.
“Dean,” and then he moves his knee, brushing over the head of Dean’s cock through his jeans, and it’s too much. Dean goes flying over the edge, head snapping back, eyes clenching shut and fingertips digging into Castiel’s shoulders as he rides out his orgasm, a broken gasp falling from his lips.
When he comes back down, Cas is holding him up, fingers grasping his biceps. Their positions are mirrored.
Dean raises his head and their gazes meet. He can’t figure out what it is he’s seeing there - Cas’s pupils are still blown wide, but they no longer look frightened or apologetic. They’re curious.
Sam’s mild noise of disgust makes him look away.
“Oh, man, that’s just gross. Couldn’t you have waited until I was outside?”
The heat that spreads to Dean’s face is so fierce it feels like the flames from Hell are scorching his skin. He knocks Cas’s hands away with his own and squeezes himself out from between him and the wall, looking down at his soiled trousers. There certainly wasn’t any visible evidence that he’d just come in them like a horny teen, but he could definitely feel it.
“It was the siren, Sam. Don’t get any funny ideas,” he says, pointing behind him whilst continuing to eye up his crotch. He hears Castiel move behind him and flips around quickly, eyeing up the angel warily.
“Dean-“ Castiel begins. Dean holds up a hand.
“Save it. Just…” Dean turns, closing his eyes in exhaustion. He was sick of it, this game that Gabriel was playing. He wanted out. “Save it.”
There’s a heavy silence that stretches out between the three.
“Cas,” Sam says quietly, “We need to talk to your brother.”
-
It takes a while, but they’ve got it. Everything needed to forcefully summon an archangel laid out cleanly in Bobby’s scrapyard. Castiel tells them they can only summon Gabriel because he’s been on Earth for so long and that trying it with any other archangel would be suicide. Dean doesn’t need to be told twice.
He nods sternly at Sam, who throws the match he’s holding onto the sigil. It sets alight quickly, the flames licking at the dirty gravel. The embers collide and connect, forming the symbol completely, and then Sam says the archangels name.
There’s a harsh, erratic flutter of wings and then the archangel is in front of them, bowed over on the floor, the flames on the inside of the sigil extinguished.Castiel is eyeing him up with awed caution, whereas Sam and Dean are leaning forwards because he looks familiar…
His head snaps up and they jerk back.
“No frickin’ way,” Dean mutters in disbelief. It’s the Trickster in front of them, playful smirk spreading over his lips. The guy rises to his feet, brushing off his knees.
“You know, being yanked away from the beginning of what was going to be a fantastic orgy by a couple of yahoo’s like you really is a buzzkill,” the Trickster widens his arms, “Sam, Dean,” he drags out their names, “nice to see you again!”
Sam’s jaw is clenched and so is Dean’s. They glare at the archangel furiously for a few minutes and Dean knows that he’s waiting for them to say something. ‘Gabriel’ caves first.
“Oh, fine. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was an angel. Would it soothe your tiny little brains if I said that I invented the Trickster?So technically, I haven’t lied to you at all,” he smiles brightly at them. They’re still glaring at him with a mixture of disgust and betrayal.
“Gabriel,” Castiel says when it’s clear neither Sam nor Dean is going to speak, “we would appreciate it if you stopped meddling with Dean and me.”Gabriel turns to him like he’s only just realised his presence, feigning innocence.
“Meddling? Me? You’ve got the wrong guy, bro.”
“Clam it, asshat, we know it’s you,” Dean’s found his voice again and it’s low and hostile. He steps forwards, “You just love messing with people’s lives, don’t you?”
Gabriel’s naïve expression contorts into one of mischief.
“How could I resist, Deano? I checked up on my little bro here after hearing he’d rebelled against Heaven and wow, was I surprised,” he smiles at Castiel, “he’d thrown it all away for whimpering, pathetic Dean Winchester.”
Dean keeps his firm, deadly gaze on Gabriel, pushing back the urge to monitor Castiel’s reaction. Gabriel shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I figured there had to be some kind of ridiculous reason he’d do that. Castiel’s one of the more sensible angels, see. And well, my clever little mind came up with the obvious solution,” he spread his arms, “he’s in love with you. You’re in love with him.”
Sam coughs beside him, covering up a bark of laughter, and Dean feels like he’s been pushed backwards, even though his feet are still firmly on the ground. Cas, in love with him? Right.
“You are one disturbed asshole, you know that?” Dean replies. Gabriel half-shrugs.
“If by ‘disturbed’ you mean ‘has eyes’, sure. You two have been barking up each other’s’ tree since Cassie here made his grand entrance. I’m just playing as the ladder.”
“Well stop,” Castiel cuts in, “This isn’t a game, Gabriel.”
There’s a moment of hopeful silence, where Gabriel falls into deep thought. Dean can see when he makes his final decision and his gut twists.
“Sorry, bucko’s, this is one ride I’m not ever getting off of. You two are the most fun I’ve had in ages,” he waggles his eyebrows, “Time to step up and play your roles, boys.”
And then he’s gone.
Sam moves forward in alarm.
“He… How did he…”
There’s an object leaning across the edge of the sigil. A condom wrapper. Dean lets out a livid snarl and turns around, kicking the dirt.
“Son of a bitch,” he growls. How long was it going to last? What else was he going to make them do? Hell, he just hoped Gabriel knew when to not cross the line, because he was not going to deflower an angel.
“Come on, Dean,” Sam coaxes, “Acting like this is just gonna make it more entertaining for the sick bastard. Play it cool.”
Dean closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. Sam’s right. I’ve just got to keep my game face on.
With a quick ruffle of his shoulders, he’s resumed his natural stance, neutral expression on his face. He turns and heads towards Cas, slapping him on the shoulder supportively.
“Let’s give your dick of a brother one lame ass show.”
-
“Hey,” Sam says suddenly later that evening, looking up from the book that’s open in front of him, “The siren… why did he set you and Cas on each other?”
Dean cringes from his seat on the sofa, giving his brother his I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-this face. He didn’t even want to know what Sam must have been thinking to have that question suddenly spawn in his mind. With a forced shrug, Dean looks back at the television.
“Said something about me being ‘immune to his charms’,” Dean smirked lightly, “Told you; I’m straighter than the stick that’s shoved up Cas’s ass.”
There’s a gentle noise of amusement expelled from the table and Dean turns his head to look at his brother in confusion.
“What?”
“Come here,” Sam gestures with his hand, enticing him over with a wide smile caked over his face. Dean hauls himself off the sofa, both curious about what was so hilarious and irritated that the joke seemed to be on him. He grips the back of Sam’s chair and leans over his shoulder, looking down at the book that Sam taps with his index finger.
“’There have been accounts in the past of sailors who have heard the sirens song in their heads, but haven’t fallen under their spell’” Sam reads out, finger trailing along the sentence. When he hesitates, Dean encourages him to continue with a nod. Sam sniffs, attempting to regain the composure that he’s slowly losing. “’One man who had followed his male lover to the siren was told by the creature that he was unable to fall under his spell, since he had already been claimed by his soulmate. These types of people are usually the more submissive half of the soul connection’-“Sam cuts himself off when he quickly glances at Dean, laughter finally spilling free from his lips. He slaps the table with his hand as he laughs, pointing at Dean.
“You should see your face, man.”
“You think me and Cas are soulmates? Are you frickin’ insane?” Dean leans forwards and yanks the book towards him, eyes scanning the text quickly. Yep, it’s there. Sam wasn’t making it up. Dean pulls a face. “Submissive? No way.” He throws the book away from him and stalks out of the living room, pulling a glass out of the cupboard and filling it with water.
Sam’s still chuckling in the living room while Dean presses a hand into the counter to keep himself up, trying very hard not to think about him underneath Castiel in a seemingly-not-platonic situation.
Yeah right. I’d totally be the dom.
And then he empties his glass, sucks in a breath, and walks back into the living room to smack Sam around the back of the head.