sam/castiel is what i like to write when i get super blocked, like a brain challenge. so sweet sassy molassey! have some fic!
Title: maybe the sky will fall
Author:
_mournthewicked
Pairing: Sam/Castiel
Rating: Adult.
Word Count: ~ 5,200
Disclaimer: Look up the word ‘fiction’ in the dictionary. You will not find a picture of this story, but the definition of the word ‘fiction’, which this is.
Warnings/Spoilers: Takes place between 603 and 604.
Summary: “I feel good... when I’m with you,” Sam confesses in a broken whisper. “And isn’t that fucked up?”
Notes: This can probably be read as a standalone, but it was written as a follow-up to my previous Sam/Castiel fic, hope runs dry. It will make more sense if you read that first.
[pdf version]
Sam enjoys being back on the road with his brother.
He missed the smell of the inside of the Impala, all gun oil and polished leather, even if he won’t admit it. He missed the smell of Dean’s cheap aftershave and the sweat that gathered at the small of his back when the leather got too hot against his skin.
For all that happened to him, for all that he is, it’s good to be home.
But none of that changes the fact that Dean can be an annoying little bitch.
Sam spent a year alone, doing what he wanted when he wanted with no one around to tell him otherwise. He didn’t have to deal with dirty socks in the sink or Dean’s sweaty clothes tossed all over every inch of their shared motel room. He could bring girls (or sometimes boys, if he was feeling up for a challenge) back to his room and do whatever he wanted with them for however long he pleased.
Not anymore. Now Dean is there every single second of every single day and Sam loves him, god help him, he does, but he hasn’t gotten off in two weeks and fratricide is looking more and more like a viable option.
Dean lays his hand on Sam’s shoulder, a casual little brush as they discuss a case, and Sam tenses up visibly.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dean gripes, and Sam turns around to face him.
“Look, Dean,” Sam starts tersely, “it’s uh, great to be back and everything, it really is. But I was by myself for a year, and now I’m not ever by myself. I mean, literally never.”
“Well, excuse me,” Dean replies. “What’s so goddamn important that you need to be – oh. Oh. I get it. Why didn’t you just say so, Sammy?”
“Dean.”
“If you needed a little alone time,” Dean starts, doing air quotes around the phrase in a way that reminds Sam annoyingly of Castiel, “all you needed to do was ask.”
“I need some alone time,” Sam says immediately. “Go find a bar, find a girl. Er, uh, call Lisa,” Sam amends when Dean’s face scrunches up a bit, “and just… leave me alone for a little while. Please.”
“Fine,” Dean replies with a crude smirk. “But don’t jizz all over my research, Sammy boy. This shit costs ten cents a page to print out.”
“I hate you with everything that I am,” Sam mutters.
“Right back atcha, spanky,” Dean calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room.
Sam hangs his head.
~~~~~~
Now that Sam has a little freedom, he isn’t quite sure where to start.
Diving right into it, so to speak, seems a bit crude. Nothing on pay-per-view looks appealing. He thinks of all of his conquests over the past year, a filthy little mental montage that only he gets to see, and shakes his head.
He doesn’t want a girl. He wants to be rough, wants to be with someone that will bend and not break. He doesn’t want to be sweet and gentle. But he did once, not all that long ago. He suddenly gets the vivid memory of how his lips felt against soft skin made rough with stubble.
Sam opens his eyes. Now that he doesn’t want to think about. He thought he was over being haunted by those fucking intense blue eyes.
He goes for a run. He gets sweaty and dirty and does push-ups in the grass. He lets adrenaline build up and pump through his veins until he finds himself back in the motel room as a ball of pent-up energy just waiting to burst.
At that point, there’s nothing left to do but throw himself onto the nearest bed. And if it happens to be Dean’s, well, that’s just a bonus.
He makes quick work of his shoes and shorts, leaving himself naked and writhing on top of a stained old duvet. He closes his eyes, bites his lip, and does his best to think of nothing when he takes himself in his hand. It feels so good, it’s been so long, and Sam’s lips part on a soft gasp as he squeezes and drags his hand up roughly.
The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat is loud as buckshot, and Sam squeezes his eyes shut even tighter before he blinks them open slowly.
“I’m assuming that now isn’t a good time,” Castiel says, and goddamn, Sam could swear that he’s wearing the tiniest hint of a smirk.
“Uh, not the best, no,” Sam grits out. Castiel just stands there, makes no move to leave or even blink, so Sam awkwardly releases his grip on his very persistent erection and pulls a slightly damp bath towel over his hips in some pointless show of modesty. “What do you want, Castiel?”
“It was my intention to speak with Dean,” Castiel says, those blue eyes staring directly at him. Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes, trying to look blasé and not the tiniest bit offended when he turns to look at the wall.
“Of course it was,” Sam mutters under his breath, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his bare chest like a teenage girl. Castiel tilts his head, that annoying little “personality trait” of his, and Sam barely resists the urge to get up and throttle him.
It hurt Sam more than he would ever admit that Castiel ignored his prayers. He thought maybe they had forged a bond that night in the Impala. The image of Castiel, naked and shaking in his arms, is something that haunts him, something he still wants, even if he won’t admit it to even himself.
“Well, Dean’s not here,” Sam says in a tone that manages to convey both disinterest and annoyance at the same time. “So, feel free to flutter off to wherever the hell it is that you’ve been hiding for the past year.”
“Who are you,” Castiel starts, and Sam nearly lets out a womanly shriek when Castiel vanishes from thin air and reappears sitting on the bed next to him, “to talk about hiding?”
Sam narrows his eyes and tries to stomp down the quelling shame, remorse, arousal, and the tiniest thrill of fear that rises up inside him when Castiel looks right into his eyes.
“Uh, Castiel,” Sam starts, gesturing lamely to the towel over his lap. “You think you could maybe give me a little personal space?”
Sam blinks as Castiel disappears again. He pops up on the other side of the room with a white towel in his hand, and Sam’s eyes widen as he cups his hands over his exposed crotch.
“Okay, I know you’re a full blown angel again or whatever,” Sam sputters indignantly, “but this whole refusal to walk more than three steps thing is getting really fucking annoying.”
Castiel stares at him.
“Can I have my towel back?” When Castiel doesn’t move, Sam narrows his eyes and gets up off of the bed. He storms over to Castiel, naked and unashamed, and yanks the towel from his hand. “Thank you.”
“I thought that maybe you and I had gone beyond the need for personal space,” Castiel says casually, innocent blue eyes looking almost wicked in the shadow that Sam casts over him. “Given our history.”
“Our history?” Sam replies. “History, he says. If by history, you mean that we fucked in the car, saved the world, and didn’t speak to each other for a year, then fine. Some history.”
“More than most,” Castiel replies easily, blinking up at Sam just once, and Sam can’t help it. He grips the lapels of Castiel’s trench coat in his fists and pushes him with all of his might, making him stumble back until he hits the wall with a loud thump.
Castiel’s expression doesn’t change, but Sam’s chest is heaving with each angry breath, expression twisted into one of rage and pain.
“I was there for you,” Sam mutters, standing there naked as they day he was born. Castiel tilts his head and Sam storms up to him, strong fingers curling around his shoulders and slamming him against the wall again. “At the lowest point in your vast, endless life, I was there for you. I helped you. And you just left me lying in the rain, calling out your name. I could still hear the screams, could still smell the hellfire, and you left me there.”
“The rain was meant to be cleansing,” Castiel replies, refusing to look into Sam’s eyes. Anyone else would cower and flinch in Sam’s strong grip, but Castiel doesn’t even seem to notice the way Sam’s fingers are digging into his flesh.
“You sent the rain,” Sam whispers, more to himself than anything.
“Look, Sam,” Castiel says, shrugging out of Sam’s grip with no problem at all. He whips his head to look directly into Sam’s eyes and he swallows hard under the force of his gaze. “I’m not exactly proud of the events that transpired between us. But there was more important work to be done in heaven, work that mattered more than my feelings for any human, be it your brother or – or you.”
“You could have – “
“I was required elsewhere, Sam,” Castiel grits out in a low, rough voice. It’s then that Sam realizes that he’s still very naked, pressed up very close to a pissed off angel. “It’s not that you were unimportant. You just weren’t the most important. I’m sorry you couldn’t understand that.”
Sam puts his hands on Castiel’s chest, letting his fingers wrap around his blue tie and tug. This is not the weak, broken angel that Sam held in the front seat of the Impala as his world crashed down around him. This is a strong, powerful warrior of heaven and Sam can feel the power thrumming inside of him, barely contained by his human vessel.
It’s intoxicating.
“I think it would do you good to realize that the sun and the moon do not revolve around Sam Winchester,” Castiel says calmly, even as he reaches up to close his fingers around Sam’s wrist. “You are but a drop of water in the biggest ocean. You are miniscule.”
“And yet, here you are,” Sam growls as he surges forward to kiss him.
Castiel indulges him for a moment, kissing back until Sam gets too desperate, biting down on Castiel’s bottom lip until he tastes copper. The angel pulls away then, spinning around and switching their positions as he presses Sam against the wall. He looks at Sam intently as he wraps his fingers around his throat. The grip isn’t tight enough to cut off his oxygen, but he lets out a sharp grunt when the angel lifts him up off of the floor.
Castiel tilts his head, a bare hint of a smirk on his pink lips, and doesn’t react when Sam drags his fingernails down the exposed skin of his wrist. The skin doesn’t tear, and Cas doesn’t even blink.
“Put me down,” Sam grunts, and Castiel licks his lips. Sam’s eyes track the action even while struggling against the angel’s inhuman grip. Castiel lets Sam slide down the wall and he lets out a breath as his feet touch the floor.
“You,” Castiel whispers harshly, lips pressed firmly against Sam’s ear, “are not as important as you think you are. I could do anything to you, and I think you’d let me without the slightest bit of hesitation.”
“Well, are you just going to stand here and talk to me all goddamn day,” Sam says, and Castiel’s eyes flash angrily. “Or are you going to do something?”
Castiel growls and Sam feels himself being ripped through space for a split second before opening his eyes to find himself on the bed across the room. He would be annoyed if Castiel weren’t straddling him, ass pressed back against his bare hips and hand still around his throat.
“Castiel – “
“Stop talking,” Castiel replies, fingers tightening slightly around Sam’s throat. It cuts off his oxygen and he feels a tingle run through his entire body, a slight shudder of danger and arousal.
For once, he isn’t the most powerful being in the room. And he finds that he actually might enjoy letting go.
He relaxes against the bed, letting his muscles loosen until he’s just a pile of warm, sweaty mass pinned beneath an angel. He keeps his eyes locked on Castiel and even unclenches his fists, spreading his fingers out across the bed instead of using them to grip onto Castiel.
It’s funny that in this moment, with an angry angel cutting off his air supply and being rendered absolutely powerless, he’s calmer than he’s been in the past year.
Maybe letting Castiel take the reins won’t be all bad.
Castiel leans down and lets his lips skim across the sharp edge of Sam’s jaw and he shudders at that first touch, fingertips digging into the bed. Castiel releases his grip on Sam’s throat then, and he sucks air greedily into his burning lungs. He’s panting, unable to speak, and Castiel nearly smiles.
“I remember what this felt like,” he whispers, and presses his mouth to Sam’s.
Sam closes his eyes and kisses him back, frantic yet sensual, tongues dueling for dominance inside each other’s mouths. He reaches up to touch Castiel, to loosen his tie and pull it off, to rip his shirt open and get his hands inside.
I missed this, Sam thinks. He would never admit out loud, not even if he had to endure torture by demons, but he can’t help but to think it. Castiel smiles against the corner of his mouth, soft and pleased, and Sam tenses.
“Did you – “ But he doesn’t get to finish the sentence. Castiel shrugs out of his coat, suit, and shirt all in one go to reveal his lean, lithe body. Sam loses track of his thoughts, doesn’t even care if Castiel can read his mind, just sits up and presses his mouth to Castiel’s collarbone. He sucks and licks at the soft skin he finds there, shuddering briefly as Castiel’s fingers slide into his hair.
He twists his fingers in the shaggy strands and pulls hard enough to make Sam tense up, to make him shudder and bite down on the soft skin between his teeth. He drags his wet, swollen lips up the side of Castiel’s neck and finds his mouth, shoves his tongue inside roughly and grabs the back of Castiel’s head and holds him there as he pours a year’s worth of sexual tension into their kiss.
Castiel kisses him back, presses their bare chests together just to feel skin against skin before he pushes Sam back roughly. He lands back on the bed with a bounce and stares up at Castiel with wide eyes. He’s panting roughly, quivering slightly with anticipation as Castiel stares down at him, completely in control.
Sam is not used to being on this end of the game. The people he brings back to his room are usually noisy, spewing a litany of filth and praise, begging Sam to take them, to own them, and sometimes all he wants them to do is shut up and take it.
Castiel just stares down at him, gaze cool and bright as his hands trace the cut of Sam’s muscles, digging in at just the right places. Sam couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, but he’s definitely ready to take whatever the angel dishes out.
“You are my greatest temptation,” Castiel says roughly as his wraps his fingers around Sam’s aching dick. “The one I never anticipated.”
Sam shudders in Castiel’s grip, toes curling and hips arching as he starts to stroke. He shuts his eyes against the heavy weight of Castiel’s gaze, not wanting him to see how much the words affect him. He just lets out a whimper, a tiny sigh, and then a sharp cry as Castiel takes him into his mouth.
Sam dares to open his eyes and look down, to see Castiel’s swollen lips wrap around the head of his dick and slide down, a smooth drag that makes him bite down on his own lip. He slides his fingers across Castiel’s cheek, pressing in to feel himself inside the angel’s mouth. Castiel makes a noise, a cross between a moan and a grunt, and meets Sam’s gaze as he slides down enough to let Sam slip into the snug grip of his throat.
“Shit,” Sam grunts, arching up and gripping the back of Castiel’s neck as he sucks. It’s wet and tight, all perfect pressure, and Sam can barely take it.
Castiel pulls up until just the flared head of Sam’s dick remains in his mouth, tongue digging at the slit in a way that makes Sam shake, makes him want to grab Castiel by the ears and keep him there forever. Castiel sucks harder and Sam arches up, so close to snapping when Castiel pulls away completely and leaves him right on edge.
“I can’t believe that you would think that I’d make it that easy,” Castiel says, voice even rougher than normal, and Sam lets out a scoff. His frustration quickly turns into anticipation when Castiel gets up to kick off his baggy slacks and unflattering underwear. Sam hums in approval at the sight of his naked body, lean and strong. He wants to put his mouth on every inch of it, mark up all that skin so Sam will be with him for days, wherever he goes.
“I want you,” Sam says, rough and simple, and Castiel climbs onto the bed to kiss him again. This one is just as desperate as the others, but there is an undercurrent of raw emotion that can’t be denied. Sam cups the angel’s cheeks as they kiss, and Castiel straddles Sam’s slim hips. Sam is glistening with sweat and Castiel licks it from his neck, hands trailing through it as he slides them down to grip Sam’s hips.
“You’ve thought about this,” Castiel whispers into Sam’s ear as he rolls his hips forward suddenly. Sam lets out a soft moan and grips Castiel’s hips hard enough to bruise. “On many occasions.”
“So have you,” Sam bites out. He can’t be the only one that wants this, refuses to believe that Castiel hasn’t thought about him. He supposes that it’s arrogant to believe that an angel of heaven thinks about fucking him, but hey, he can’t deny the facts. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Perhaps,” Castiel replies, and he cups Sam’s cheek in his nimble fingers before kissing him again. This one is slower, lazier than the others, and Sam lets his hands slide down the smooth curve of Castiel’s back.
They rut against each other for awhile, kissing and clawing at each other like untamed animals before Castiel suddenly surges forward to reach for something on the nightstand. Sam bites and licks at a nipple, at his stomach, whatever he can reach before Castiel slides back down.
Castiel sits up on his knees, hovering over Sam and pressing one hand against Sam’s stomach to keep himself steady as he reaches between his legs. Sam’s brain nearly short-circuits as he watches the angel’s hand disappear, wrist curving slightly. Castiel bites his bottom lip but doesn’t look away from Sam, doesn’t let him sit up when he tries, just lets him watch. And well, he can’t complain about the view.
“I want you to take a moment to think about what this moment means,” Castiel tells him, and Sam nods breathlessly.
“Castiel, please,” Sam gets out. He bites his lip but it’s too late, the words are spoken and Castiel raises a brow almost imperceptibly. He gets into position and Sam holds his breath, barely able to believe that all this is happening.
Castiel sinks down on his dick, slow and steady, and Sam can’t do anything to stop the rough cry that escapes his swollen lips. Castiel even lets out a moan, low and broken, as he settles across Sam’s hips. He grips Sam’s shoulders and leans down to kiss him messily, panting into his mouth, and Sam is too strung out to even be pleased that he’s finally eliciting a reaction out of the angel.
Castiel starts to move his hips, shaky and unsteady at first, fingertips digging roughly into Sam’s stomach as he finds a rhythm. Sam grabs his hips and thrusts up suddenly, burying himself deep inside the angel as they both let out harsh cries. Castiel slams his fist down onto Sam’s chest hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bruise, and Sam grabs him roughly by the sides of his face to kiss him again. It’s rough and dirty, teeth gnashing and tugging and they fight against each other.
Castiel finds a rhythm soon enough, bouncing on top of Sam like this isn’t the first time that he’s ever done this, like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. Sam runs his hand up the side of Castiel’s sweaty flank and the angel grabs it, slamming it roughly against the bed as he sucks and bites his way down Sam’s neck. It hurts enough to make him wince but feels amazing enough to make him moan. Castiel is shaking above him, sweat dampening his skin as he moves his hips eagerly, off-rhythm and almost frantic in his actions.
“You love this,” Sam grunts out, grinning smugly against the side of Castiel’s face. Castiel lets out a low growl and bites down on Sam’s jaw, pressing down until their hips are snug together, wiggling his hips, and oh god, where did he learn that? “I’ve never seen you so – ah, fuck – so out of control.”
“I’m perfectly in control, Sam,” Castiel groans, looking down at him with bright eyes before kissing him again. Sam smirks into the kiss, proud and smug, before using the distraction to his advantage and flipping them over.
Castiel gasps out loud as his back crashes into the bed and then lets out a sharp cry as Sam slams back into him. Castiel closes his eyes and bites down hard on his lip, hands going to Sam’s shoulders and digging in sharply.
Sam ignores the sting and props himself up over Castiel, lifting one of the angel’s legs up to wrap around his hips as he fucks him with deep, rolling thrusts. Castiel reaches up to put his hands on the sides of Sam’s neck, doing his best to pull him closer even as Sam resists. Sam smirks lasciviously, licking his lips in such an obscene way that Castiel’s eyes flash dangerously.
Being with Castiel is, for lack of a better word, fun. It’s sexy, exhausting, painful, confusing, and fucking hot, yes. But it’s fun.
Castiel pulls on the back of Sam’s head a few more times before letting out a frustrated growl and kicking it up a notch, using his inhuman strength to pull Sam down, to kiss him messily.
Sam can’t find it in himself to be playful anymore. He drops down on top of Castiel, still fucking into him a little too hard and a little too roughly, but Castiel doesn’t seem to be complaining.
They kiss for a long time, lips fused together and tongues tangling. Sam feels a fire in his veins. He feels powerful and important, but not because of special powers or demon’s blood or sauntering down yet another slippery slope, but because of the angel spread out underneath him.
“I’m going to break you,” Sam whispers against Castiel’s sweaty skin in a harsh promise. “I’m going to make you fall apart underneath me.”
Castiel doesn’t reply, simply clenches his muscles and rolls his hips up in such a way that Sam whimpers. He swears that he feels Castiel smirk against his temple and he takes his retaliation by wrapping his hand around Castiel’s dick and squeezing.
The angel moans, trembles, and digs his nails into Sam’s skin. Castiel kisses him again, lets his eyes slip shut and revels in the moment. There’s so much emotion coursing through him, too many things that he doesn’t want to name, so he focuses only on Castiel, on kissing him and stroking him, bringing him closer to the edge.
Sam pants against Castiel’s neck, exhausted and strung out, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the angel’s damp skin.
“I feel good... when I’m with you,” Sam confesses in a broken whisper. “And isn’t that fucked up?”
Castiel moans and arches up, gripping Sam’s arms tight enough to bruise, and Sam gasps when he feels the angel tense up and cry out. Castiel looks beautiful in that moment, ethereal and unreal, and Sam smashes their mouths together as his own orgasm hits him with the force of an electric current.
His hips twitch as he empties himself inside of Castiel, hands slipping across his skin as he collapses on top of him. Castiel’s legs stay wrapped around his waist, and he touches the angel’s inner thighs just to feel him quiver before reaching up to slide his fingers into Castiel’s sex-mussed hair.
“I’ve never been covered in so many… bodily fluids before,” Castiel says after a few moments of panting and lazy kisses. “You’re such messy creatures.”
“And the moment is officially ruined,” Sam says, but he’s laughing breathlessly, grip tightening on Castiel like he’s afraid that he’ll disappear now that they’re through. And hey, it’s a legitimate fear.
“I don’t plan on leaving right now, Sam,” Castiel says, and that’s when he realizes just how tight he is gripping the angel, how desperate he is not to let go.
Sam tries to think of something to say, some nonchalant comeback, but he stays quiet and slackens his grip. They both let out a soft sigh when Sam pulls out, and somehow that moment is more intimate than the sex itself.
Sam feels awkward in that moment, hovering above an angel drenched in the sweat from both of their bodies. He can’t think of anything to do, anything to say, so he presses a soft kiss to the center of Castiel’s chest and then rolls over to lie next to him.
It’s silent for a few minutes, the air warm and sticky as they fight to regain their breath.
“This is not what I envisioned happening when I came here tonight,” Castiel says, voice rough and hesitant. “But I can’t say that I regret what we did.”
“That makes two of us,” Sam replies after a beat. He clears his throat and turns his head to look at Castiel for just a moment before turning his gaze back to the ceiling. “Maybe we can do it again. For real this time, maybe.”
“Maybe,” Castiel replies simply, and Sam turns to look at him. It takes a few moments but Castiel turns his head to meet his gaze. The two of them share a tiny smile, something soft and private, and Sam hesitates for only a moment before closing the space between them with a kiss.
“I don’t know how to be good at this,” Castiel admits after awkwardly pushing Sam’s hair away from his face. Sam chuckles and rests his hand on Castiel’s hip.
“Me neither,” Sam replies. “To be honest, I’m a little surprised that you haven’t just vanished.”
“I considered it,” Castiel tells him, smiling sheepishly. Sam laughs and rolls onto his back, throwing his arm up over his head and getting comfortable.
“There doesn’t have to be rules, you know,” Sam says into the quiet air. Castiel hums thoughtfully. “We don’t have to answer to anyone about us.”
“Intriguing,” Castiel responds, and Sam tries hard to fight back a yawn. “You should rest. Because despite what may have happened, I did come here to put you and your brother to work.”
Sam chuckles and rests his fingers across Castiel’s wrist as his eyes start to droop. He’s surprised to feel Castiel’s lips on his, but he’s too tired to question it. He just drifts to sleep with a tiny, smug smirk on his lips as Castiel awkwardly touches his damp hair.
It may not be perfect, but it’s what he wants.
~~~~~~
Dean slips into the room sometime later with his eyes closed, and he cracks one open when he doesn’t hear any noise.
“Ya decent, Sammy?” He asks with a sly grin, and then blinks in surprise when he sees Castiel hovering above his sleeping brother in nothing but a pair of unzipped slacks. “Oh shit, is this back?”
“Is what back?” Castiel asks, tilting his head and looking entirely unconcerned with his appearance. He looks completely unconcerned with the entire situation, actually.
“You and Sam,” Dean says lamely, trailing off as he makes a crude hand gesture. “You two, you know, making the beast with two backs or whatever.”
Castiel tilts his head and Dean sighs with everything that he has.
“Having sex,” Dean finally says, and Castiel blinks and then nods, looking down at Sam for a moment before returning his gaze to Dean.
“Oh, yes,” Castiel says, and Dean swears that he’s wearing a hint of a smile. “I suppose it is back.”
“Fantastic. On my bed, too,” Dean says with a quick roll of his eyes. He decides not to think about it too much. He’s definitely seen weirder. And hey, why shouldn’t they get a little happiness where they can find it? “And here I thought it was you and I that had the profound bond.”
“Different kind of bonding,” Castiel responds, and he smirks a little when Dean just levels him with a stare.
“Yeah, I can see that.” Dean rubs the back of his neck, an awkward little tic, and when he looks back up Castiel is touching two fingers to his sleeping brother’s forehead. “What are you doing?”
Castiel straightens up and clears his throat, reaching over to pick up his shirt and pull it on before answering.
“Uh, well,” he starts. The rest he says with his eyes down, fingers buttoning his shirt. “I’m afraid that I was a little, well, aggressive with your brother, and I didn’t – “
“That’s enough,” Dean says disgustedly, holding one hand out as he scrubs the other down his face. He chuckles and then gives Castiel a long glance. They meet each other’s eyes for a moment and Dean just gives him a short nod. Castiel smiles softly as he pulls on the rest of his clothes.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” Castiel tells him, and Dean raises a brow. “On business.”
“Bring breakfast,” Dean grumbles as he toes off his boots. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it on a chair before falling back onto Sam’s bed. “And coffee.”
“Sure, Dean,” Castiel says, and when Dean looks up, the room is empty.
When he turns his gaze over to the other bed, his brother is sound asleep, hair tucked behind his ears and a faint smile on his lips. Dean rolls his eyes and flops back, wiggling around a little before settling in to stare up at the ceiling with a faint smirk on his face.
“Fuckin’ angels.”
[end.]
♥
Title: maybe the sky will fall
Author:
_mournthewickedPairing: Sam/Castiel
Rating: Adult.
Word Count: ~ 5,200
Disclaimer: Look up the word ‘fiction’ in the dictionary. You will not find a picture of this story, but the definition of the word ‘fiction’, which this is.
Warnings/Spoilers: Takes place between 603 and 604.
Summary: “I feel good... when I’m with you,” Sam confesses in a broken whisper. “And isn’t that fucked up?”
Notes: This can probably be read as a standalone, but it was written as a follow-up to my previous Sam/Castiel fic, hope runs dry. It will make more sense if you read that first.
[pdf version]
Sam enjoys being back on the road with his brother.
He missed the smell of the inside of the Impala, all gun oil and polished leather, even if he won’t admit it. He missed the smell of Dean’s cheap aftershave and the sweat that gathered at the small of his back when the leather got too hot against his skin.
For all that happened to him, for all that he is, it’s good to be home.
But none of that changes the fact that Dean can be an annoying little bitch.
Sam spent a year alone, doing what he wanted when he wanted with no one around to tell him otherwise. He didn’t have to deal with dirty socks in the sink or Dean’s sweaty clothes tossed all over every inch of their shared motel room. He could bring girls (or sometimes boys, if he was feeling up for a challenge) back to his room and do whatever he wanted with them for however long he pleased.
Not anymore. Now Dean is there every single second of every single day and Sam loves him, god help him, he does, but he hasn’t gotten off in two weeks and fratricide is looking more and more like a viable option.
Dean lays his hand on Sam’s shoulder, a casual little brush as they discuss a case, and Sam tenses up visibly.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dean gripes, and Sam turns around to face him.
“Look, Dean,” Sam starts tersely, “it’s uh, great to be back and everything, it really is. But I was by myself for a year, and now I’m not ever by myself. I mean, literally never.”
“Well, excuse me,” Dean replies. “What’s so goddamn important that you need to be – oh. Oh. I get it. Why didn’t you just say so, Sammy?”
“Dean.”
“If you needed a little alone time,” Dean starts, doing air quotes around the phrase in a way that reminds Sam annoyingly of Castiel, “all you needed to do was ask.”
“I need some alone time,” Sam says immediately. “Go find a bar, find a girl. Er, uh, call Lisa,” Sam amends when Dean’s face scrunches up a bit, “and just… leave me alone for a little while. Please.”
“Fine,” Dean replies with a crude smirk. “But don’t jizz all over my research, Sammy boy. This shit costs ten cents a page to print out.”
“I hate you with everything that I am,” Sam mutters.
“Right back atcha, spanky,” Dean calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room.
Sam hangs his head.
Now that Sam has a little freedom, he isn’t quite sure where to start.
Diving right into it, so to speak, seems a bit crude. Nothing on pay-per-view looks appealing. He thinks of all of his conquests over the past year, a filthy little mental montage that only he gets to see, and shakes his head.
He doesn’t want a girl. He wants to be rough, wants to be with someone that will bend and not break. He doesn’t want to be sweet and gentle. But he did once, not all that long ago. He suddenly gets the vivid memory of how his lips felt against soft skin made rough with stubble.
Sam opens his eyes. Now that he doesn’t want to think about. He thought he was over being haunted by those fucking intense blue eyes.
He goes for a run. He gets sweaty and dirty and does push-ups in the grass. He lets adrenaline build up and pump through his veins until he finds himself back in the motel room as a ball of pent-up energy just waiting to burst.
At that point, there’s nothing left to do but throw himself onto the nearest bed. And if it happens to be Dean’s, well, that’s just a bonus.
He makes quick work of his shoes and shorts, leaving himself naked and writhing on top of a stained old duvet. He closes his eyes, bites his lip, and does his best to think of nothing when he takes himself in his hand. It feels so good, it’s been so long, and Sam’s lips part on a soft gasp as he squeezes and drags his hand up roughly.
The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat is loud as buckshot, and Sam squeezes his eyes shut even tighter before he blinks them open slowly.
“I’m assuming that now isn’t a good time,” Castiel says, and goddamn, Sam could swear that he’s wearing the tiniest hint of a smirk.
“Uh, not the best, no,” Sam grits out. Castiel just stands there, makes no move to leave or even blink, so Sam awkwardly releases his grip on his very persistent erection and pulls a slightly damp bath towel over his hips in some pointless show of modesty. “What do you want, Castiel?”
“It was my intention to speak with Dean,” Castiel says, those blue eyes staring directly at him. Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes, trying to look blasé and not the tiniest bit offended when he turns to look at the wall.
“Of course it was,” Sam mutters under his breath, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his bare chest like a teenage girl. Castiel tilts his head, that annoying little “personality trait” of his, and Sam barely resists the urge to get up and throttle him.
It hurt Sam more than he would ever admit that Castiel ignored his prayers. He thought maybe they had forged a bond that night in the Impala. The image of Castiel, naked and shaking in his arms, is something that haunts him, something he still wants, even if he won’t admit it to even himself.
“Well, Dean’s not here,” Sam says in a tone that manages to convey both disinterest and annoyance at the same time. “So, feel free to flutter off to wherever the hell it is that you’ve been hiding for the past year.”
“Who are you,” Castiel starts, and Sam nearly lets out a womanly shriek when Castiel vanishes from thin air and reappears sitting on the bed next to him, “to talk about hiding?”
Sam narrows his eyes and tries to stomp down the quelling shame, remorse, arousal, and the tiniest thrill of fear that rises up inside him when Castiel looks right into his eyes.
“Uh, Castiel,” Sam starts, gesturing lamely to the towel over his lap. “You think you could maybe give me a little personal space?”
Sam blinks as Castiel disappears again. He pops up on the other side of the room with a white towel in his hand, and Sam’s eyes widen as he cups his hands over his exposed crotch.
“Okay, I know you’re a full blown angel again or whatever,” Sam sputters indignantly, “but this whole refusal to walk more than three steps thing is getting really fucking annoying.”
Castiel stares at him.
“Can I have my towel back?” When Castiel doesn’t move, Sam narrows his eyes and gets up off of the bed. He storms over to Castiel, naked and unashamed, and yanks the towel from his hand. “Thank you.”
“I thought that maybe you and I had gone beyond the need for personal space,” Castiel says casually, innocent blue eyes looking almost wicked in the shadow that Sam casts over him. “Given our history.”
“Our history?” Sam replies. “History, he says. If by history, you mean that we fucked in the car, saved the world, and didn’t speak to each other for a year, then fine. Some history.”
“More than most,” Castiel replies easily, blinking up at Sam just once, and Sam can’t help it. He grips the lapels of Castiel’s trench coat in his fists and pushes him with all of his might, making him stumble back until he hits the wall with a loud thump.
Castiel’s expression doesn’t change, but Sam’s chest is heaving with each angry breath, expression twisted into one of rage and pain.
“I was there for you,” Sam mutters, standing there naked as they day he was born. Castiel tilts his head and Sam storms up to him, strong fingers curling around his shoulders and slamming him against the wall again. “At the lowest point in your vast, endless life, I was there for you. I helped you. And you just left me lying in the rain, calling out your name. I could still hear the screams, could still smell the hellfire, and you left me there.”
“The rain was meant to be cleansing,” Castiel replies, refusing to look into Sam’s eyes. Anyone else would cower and flinch in Sam’s strong grip, but Castiel doesn’t even seem to notice the way Sam’s fingers are digging into his flesh.
“You sent the rain,” Sam whispers, more to himself than anything.
“Look, Sam,” Castiel says, shrugging out of Sam’s grip with no problem at all. He whips his head to look directly into Sam’s eyes and he swallows hard under the force of his gaze. “I’m not exactly proud of the events that transpired between us. But there was more important work to be done in heaven, work that mattered more than my feelings for any human, be it your brother or – or you.”
“You could have – “
“I was required elsewhere, Sam,” Castiel grits out in a low, rough voice. It’s then that Sam realizes that he’s still very naked, pressed up very close to a pissed off angel. “It’s not that you were unimportant. You just weren’t the most important. I’m sorry you couldn’t understand that.”
Sam puts his hands on Castiel’s chest, letting his fingers wrap around his blue tie and tug. This is not the weak, broken angel that Sam held in the front seat of the Impala as his world crashed down around him. This is a strong, powerful warrior of heaven and Sam can feel the power thrumming inside of him, barely contained by his human vessel.
It’s intoxicating.
“I think it would do you good to realize that the sun and the moon do not revolve around Sam Winchester,” Castiel says calmly, even as he reaches up to close his fingers around Sam’s wrist. “You are but a drop of water in the biggest ocean. You are miniscule.”
“And yet, here you are,” Sam growls as he surges forward to kiss him.
Castiel indulges him for a moment, kissing back until Sam gets too desperate, biting down on Castiel’s bottom lip until he tastes copper. The angel pulls away then, spinning around and switching their positions as he presses Sam against the wall. He looks at Sam intently as he wraps his fingers around his throat. The grip isn’t tight enough to cut off his oxygen, but he lets out a sharp grunt when the angel lifts him up off of the floor.
Castiel tilts his head, a bare hint of a smirk on his pink lips, and doesn’t react when Sam drags his fingernails down the exposed skin of his wrist. The skin doesn’t tear, and Cas doesn’t even blink.
“Put me down,” Sam grunts, and Castiel licks his lips. Sam’s eyes track the action even while struggling against the angel’s inhuman grip. Castiel lets Sam slide down the wall and he lets out a breath as his feet touch the floor.
“You,” Castiel whispers harshly, lips pressed firmly against Sam’s ear, “are not as important as you think you are. I could do anything to you, and I think you’d let me without the slightest bit of hesitation.”
“Well, are you just going to stand here and talk to me all goddamn day,” Sam says, and Castiel’s eyes flash angrily. “Or are you going to do something?”
Castiel growls and Sam feels himself being ripped through space for a split second before opening his eyes to find himself on the bed across the room. He would be annoyed if Castiel weren’t straddling him, ass pressed back against his bare hips and hand still around his throat.
“Castiel – “
“Stop talking,” Castiel replies, fingers tightening slightly around Sam’s throat. It cuts off his oxygen and he feels a tingle run through his entire body, a slight shudder of danger and arousal.
For once, he isn’t the most powerful being in the room. And he finds that he actually might enjoy letting go.
He relaxes against the bed, letting his muscles loosen until he’s just a pile of warm, sweaty mass pinned beneath an angel. He keeps his eyes locked on Castiel and even unclenches his fists, spreading his fingers out across the bed instead of using them to grip onto Castiel.
It’s funny that in this moment, with an angry angel cutting off his air supply and being rendered absolutely powerless, he’s calmer than he’s been in the past year.
Maybe letting Castiel take the reins won’t be all bad.
Castiel leans down and lets his lips skim across the sharp edge of Sam’s jaw and he shudders at that first touch, fingertips digging into the bed. Castiel releases his grip on Sam’s throat then, and he sucks air greedily into his burning lungs. He’s panting, unable to speak, and Castiel nearly smiles.
“I remember what this felt like,” he whispers, and presses his mouth to Sam’s.
Sam closes his eyes and kisses him back, frantic yet sensual, tongues dueling for dominance inside each other’s mouths. He reaches up to touch Castiel, to loosen his tie and pull it off, to rip his shirt open and get his hands inside.
I missed this, Sam thinks. He would never admit out loud, not even if he had to endure torture by demons, but he can’t help but to think it. Castiel smiles against the corner of his mouth, soft and pleased, and Sam tenses.
“Did you – “ But he doesn’t get to finish the sentence. Castiel shrugs out of his coat, suit, and shirt all in one go to reveal his lean, lithe body. Sam loses track of his thoughts, doesn’t even care if Castiel can read his mind, just sits up and presses his mouth to Castiel’s collarbone. He sucks and licks at the soft skin he finds there, shuddering briefly as Castiel’s fingers slide into his hair.
He twists his fingers in the shaggy strands and pulls hard enough to make Sam tense up, to make him shudder and bite down on the soft skin between his teeth. He drags his wet, swollen lips up the side of Castiel’s neck and finds his mouth, shoves his tongue inside roughly and grabs the back of Castiel’s head and holds him there as he pours a year’s worth of sexual tension into their kiss.
Castiel kisses him back, presses their bare chests together just to feel skin against skin before he pushes Sam back roughly. He lands back on the bed with a bounce and stares up at Castiel with wide eyes. He’s panting roughly, quivering slightly with anticipation as Castiel stares down at him, completely in control.
Sam is not used to being on this end of the game. The people he brings back to his room are usually noisy, spewing a litany of filth and praise, begging Sam to take them, to own them, and sometimes all he wants them to do is shut up and take it.
Castiel just stares down at him, gaze cool and bright as his hands trace the cut of Sam’s muscles, digging in at just the right places. Sam couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, but he’s definitely ready to take whatever the angel dishes out.
“You are my greatest temptation,” Castiel says roughly as his wraps his fingers around Sam’s aching dick. “The one I never anticipated.”
Sam shudders in Castiel’s grip, toes curling and hips arching as he starts to stroke. He shuts his eyes against the heavy weight of Castiel’s gaze, not wanting him to see how much the words affect him. He just lets out a whimper, a tiny sigh, and then a sharp cry as Castiel takes him into his mouth.
Sam dares to open his eyes and look down, to see Castiel’s swollen lips wrap around the head of his dick and slide down, a smooth drag that makes him bite down on his own lip. He slides his fingers across Castiel’s cheek, pressing in to feel himself inside the angel’s mouth. Castiel makes a noise, a cross between a moan and a grunt, and meets Sam’s gaze as he slides down enough to let Sam slip into the snug grip of his throat.
“Shit,” Sam grunts, arching up and gripping the back of Castiel’s neck as he sucks. It’s wet and tight, all perfect pressure, and Sam can barely take it.
Castiel pulls up until just the flared head of Sam’s dick remains in his mouth, tongue digging at the slit in a way that makes Sam shake, makes him want to grab Castiel by the ears and keep him there forever. Castiel sucks harder and Sam arches up, so close to snapping when Castiel pulls away completely and leaves him right on edge.
“I can’t believe that you would think that I’d make it that easy,” Castiel says, voice even rougher than normal, and Sam lets out a scoff. His frustration quickly turns into anticipation when Castiel gets up to kick off his baggy slacks and unflattering underwear. Sam hums in approval at the sight of his naked body, lean and strong. He wants to put his mouth on every inch of it, mark up all that skin so Sam will be with him for days, wherever he goes.
“I want you,” Sam says, rough and simple, and Castiel climbs onto the bed to kiss him again. This one is just as desperate as the others, but there is an undercurrent of raw emotion that can’t be denied. Sam cups the angel’s cheeks as they kiss, and Castiel straddles Sam’s slim hips. Sam is glistening with sweat and Castiel licks it from his neck, hands trailing through it as he slides them down to grip Sam’s hips.
“You’ve thought about this,” Castiel whispers into Sam’s ear as he rolls his hips forward suddenly. Sam lets out a soft moan and grips Castiel’s hips hard enough to bruise. “On many occasions.”
“So have you,” Sam bites out. He can’t be the only one that wants this, refuses to believe that Castiel hasn’t thought about him. He supposes that it’s arrogant to believe that an angel of heaven thinks about fucking him, but hey, he can’t deny the facts. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Perhaps,” Castiel replies, and he cups Sam’s cheek in his nimble fingers before kissing him again. This one is slower, lazier than the others, and Sam lets his hands slide down the smooth curve of Castiel’s back.
They rut against each other for awhile, kissing and clawing at each other like untamed animals before Castiel suddenly surges forward to reach for something on the nightstand. Sam bites and licks at a nipple, at his stomach, whatever he can reach before Castiel slides back down.
Castiel sits up on his knees, hovering over Sam and pressing one hand against Sam’s stomach to keep himself steady as he reaches between his legs. Sam’s brain nearly short-circuits as he watches the angel’s hand disappear, wrist curving slightly. Castiel bites his bottom lip but doesn’t look away from Sam, doesn’t let him sit up when he tries, just lets him watch. And well, he can’t complain about the view.
“I want you to take a moment to think about what this moment means,” Castiel tells him, and Sam nods breathlessly.
“Castiel, please,” Sam gets out. He bites his lip but it’s too late, the words are spoken and Castiel raises a brow almost imperceptibly. He gets into position and Sam holds his breath, barely able to believe that all this is happening.
Castiel sinks down on his dick, slow and steady, and Sam can’t do anything to stop the rough cry that escapes his swollen lips. Castiel even lets out a moan, low and broken, as he settles across Sam’s hips. He grips Sam’s shoulders and leans down to kiss him messily, panting into his mouth, and Sam is too strung out to even be pleased that he’s finally eliciting a reaction out of the angel.
Castiel starts to move his hips, shaky and unsteady at first, fingertips digging roughly into Sam’s stomach as he finds a rhythm. Sam grabs his hips and thrusts up suddenly, burying himself deep inside the angel as they both let out harsh cries. Castiel slams his fist down onto Sam’s chest hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bruise, and Sam grabs him roughly by the sides of his face to kiss him again. It’s rough and dirty, teeth gnashing and tugging and they fight against each other.
Castiel finds a rhythm soon enough, bouncing on top of Sam like this isn’t the first time that he’s ever done this, like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. Sam runs his hand up the side of Castiel’s sweaty flank and the angel grabs it, slamming it roughly against the bed as he sucks and bites his way down Sam’s neck. It hurts enough to make him wince but feels amazing enough to make him moan. Castiel is shaking above him, sweat dampening his skin as he moves his hips eagerly, off-rhythm and almost frantic in his actions.
“You love this,” Sam grunts out, grinning smugly against the side of Castiel’s face. Castiel lets out a low growl and bites down on Sam’s jaw, pressing down until their hips are snug together, wiggling his hips, and oh god, where did he learn that? “I’ve never seen you so – ah, fuck – so out of control.”
“I’m perfectly in control, Sam,” Castiel groans, looking down at him with bright eyes before kissing him again. Sam smirks into the kiss, proud and smug, before using the distraction to his advantage and flipping them over.
Castiel gasps out loud as his back crashes into the bed and then lets out a sharp cry as Sam slams back into him. Castiel closes his eyes and bites down hard on his lip, hands going to Sam’s shoulders and digging in sharply.
Sam ignores the sting and props himself up over Castiel, lifting one of the angel’s legs up to wrap around his hips as he fucks him with deep, rolling thrusts. Castiel reaches up to put his hands on the sides of Sam’s neck, doing his best to pull him closer even as Sam resists. Sam smirks lasciviously, licking his lips in such an obscene way that Castiel’s eyes flash dangerously.
Being with Castiel is, for lack of a better word, fun. It’s sexy, exhausting, painful, confusing, and fucking hot, yes. But it’s fun.
Castiel pulls on the back of Sam’s head a few more times before letting out a frustrated growl and kicking it up a notch, using his inhuman strength to pull Sam down, to kiss him messily.
Sam can’t find it in himself to be playful anymore. He drops down on top of Castiel, still fucking into him a little too hard and a little too roughly, but Castiel doesn’t seem to be complaining.
They kiss for a long time, lips fused together and tongues tangling. Sam feels a fire in his veins. He feels powerful and important, but not because of special powers or demon’s blood or sauntering down yet another slippery slope, but because of the angel spread out underneath him.
“I’m going to break you,” Sam whispers against Castiel’s sweaty skin in a harsh promise. “I’m going to make you fall apart underneath me.”
Castiel doesn’t reply, simply clenches his muscles and rolls his hips up in such a way that Sam whimpers. He swears that he feels Castiel smirk against his temple and he takes his retaliation by wrapping his hand around Castiel’s dick and squeezing.
The angel moans, trembles, and digs his nails into Sam’s skin. Castiel kisses him again, lets his eyes slip shut and revels in the moment. There’s so much emotion coursing through him, too many things that he doesn’t want to name, so he focuses only on Castiel, on kissing him and stroking him, bringing him closer to the edge.
Sam pants against Castiel’s neck, exhausted and strung out, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the angel’s damp skin.
“I feel good... when I’m with you,” Sam confesses in a broken whisper. “And isn’t that fucked up?”
Castiel moans and arches up, gripping Sam’s arms tight enough to bruise, and Sam gasps when he feels the angel tense up and cry out. Castiel looks beautiful in that moment, ethereal and unreal, and Sam smashes their mouths together as his own orgasm hits him with the force of an electric current.
His hips twitch as he empties himself inside of Castiel, hands slipping across his skin as he collapses on top of him. Castiel’s legs stay wrapped around his waist, and he touches the angel’s inner thighs just to feel him quiver before reaching up to slide his fingers into Castiel’s sex-mussed hair.
“I’ve never been covered in so many… bodily fluids before,” Castiel says after a few moments of panting and lazy kisses. “You’re such messy creatures.”
“And the moment is officially ruined,” Sam says, but he’s laughing breathlessly, grip tightening on Castiel like he’s afraid that he’ll disappear now that they’re through. And hey, it’s a legitimate fear.
“I don’t plan on leaving right now, Sam,” Castiel says, and that’s when he realizes just how tight he is gripping the angel, how desperate he is not to let go.
Sam tries to think of something to say, some nonchalant comeback, but he stays quiet and slackens his grip. They both let out a soft sigh when Sam pulls out, and somehow that moment is more intimate than the sex itself.
Sam feels awkward in that moment, hovering above an angel drenched in the sweat from both of their bodies. He can’t think of anything to do, anything to say, so he presses a soft kiss to the center of Castiel’s chest and then rolls over to lie next to him.
It’s silent for a few minutes, the air warm and sticky as they fight to regain their breath.
“This is not what I envisioned happening when I came here tonight,” Castiel says, voice rough and hesitant. “But I can’t say that I regret what we did.”
“That makes two of us,” Sam replies after a beat. He clears his throat and turns his head to look at Castiel for just a moment before turning his gaze back to the ceiling. “Maybe we can do it again. For real this time, maybe.”
“Maybe,” Castiel replies simply, and Sam turns to look at him. It takes a few moments but Castiel turns his head to meet his gaze. The two of them share a tiny smile, something soft and private, and Sam hesitates for only a moment before closing the space between them with a kiss.
“I don’t know how to be good at this,” Castiel admits after awkwardly pushing Sam’s hair away from his face. Sam chuckles and rests his hand on Castiel’s hip.
“Me neither,” Sam replies. “To be honest, I’m a little surprised that you haven’t just vanished.”
“I considered it,” Castiel tells him, smiling sheepishly. Sam laughs and rolls onto his back, throwing his arm up over his head and getting comfortable.
“There doesn’t have to be rules, you know,” Sam says into the quiet air. Castiel hums thoughtfully. “We don’t have to answer to anyone about us.”
“Intriguing,” Castiel responds, and Sam tries hard to fight back a yawn. “You should rest. Because despite what may have happened, I did come here to put you and your brother to work.”
Sam chuckles and rests his fingers across Castiel’s wrist as his eyes start to droop. He’s surprised to feel Castiel’s lips on his, but he’s too tired to question it. He just drifts to sleep with a tiny, smug smirk on his lips as Castiel awkwardly touches his damp hair.
It may not be perfect, but it’s what he wants.
Dean slips into the room sometime later with his eyes closed, and he cracks one open when he doesn’t hear any noise.
“Ya decent, Sammy?” He asks with a sly grin, and then blinks in surprise when he sees Castiel hovering above his sleeping brother in nothing but a pair of unzipped slacks. “Oh shit, is this back?”
“Is what back?” Castiel asks, tilting his head and looking entirely unconcerned with his appearance. He looks completely unconcerned with the entire situation, actually.
“You and Sam,” Dean says lamely, trailing off as he makes a crude hand gesture. “You two, you know, making the beast with two backs or whatever.”
Castiel tilts his head and Dean sighs with everything that he has.
“Having sex,” Dean finally says, and Castiel blinks and then nods, looking down at Sam for a moment before returning his gaze to Dean.
“Oh, yes,” Castiel says, and Dean swears that he’s wearing a hint of a smile. “I suppose it is back.”
“Fantastic. On my bed, too,” Dean says with a quick roll of his eyes. He decides not to think about it too much. He’s definitely seen weirder. And hey, why shouldn’t they get a little happiness where they can find it? “And here I thought it was you and I that had the profound bond.”
“Different kind of bonding,” Castiel responds, and he smirks a little when Dean just levels him with a stare.
“Yeah, I can see that.” Dean rubs the back of his neck, an awkward little tic, and when he looks back up Castiel is touching two fingers to his sleeping brother’s forehead. “What are you doing?”
Castiel straightens up and clears his throat, reaching over to pick up his shirt and pull it on before answering.
“Uh, well,” he starts. The rest he says with his eyes down, fingers buttoning his shirt. “I’m afraid that I was a little, well, aggressive with your brother, and I didn’t – “
“That’s enough,” Dean says disgustedly, holding one hand out as he scrubs the other down his face. He chuckles and then gives Castiel a long glance. They meet each other’s eyes for a moment and Dean just gives him a short nod. Castiel smiles softly as he pulls on the rest of his clothes.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” Castiel tells him, and Dean raises a brow. “On business.”
“Bring breakfast,” Dean grumbles as he toes off his boots. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it on a chair before falling back onto Sam’s bed. “And coffee.”
“Sure, Dean,” Castiel says, and when Dean looks up, the room is empty.
When he turns his gaze over to the other bed, his brother is sound asleep, hair tucked behind his ears and a faint smile on his lips. Dean rolls his eyes and flops back, wiggling around a little before settling in to stare up at the ceiling with a faint smirk on his face.
“Fuckin’ angels.”
[end.]
♥
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