This story was intended to have taken place just before the Leviathans. This is kind of a side story, established after Cas was very much friends with Dean and well on . Completely from my own mind and has not much to do with the original story line except for the title quote.
**I never continued the fic past the original outline that I had. I wasn't sure if it would be read. I might continue on it if everyone likes it. So this is a pretty short thing, for humor purposes only.
Rating: T (not quite M)
Warnings: Contains no sex, but several increasingly violent orgasms. Implied one-sided Destiel.
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It was bitterly cold that morning and Dean was preoccupied with finding excuses to keep Sam away from any potential danger. Though Sam seemed to behave in a relatively normal manner, the idea of the ticking timebomb in his brother's head drove Dean to near madness. Day and night he wondered when or how or if that wall protecting his fragile existence was going to crack and spill out all of those memories of Hell.
As a desperate measure, Dean almost intentionally caught himself a cold going out on a long soul-searching walk through the snow while Sam slept. With the weather being 'too cold' and Dean being 'under the weather' to a degree that would render him useless in a hunt, Dean laid out the pawns in his game.
(Earlier that morning)
Dean stretched stiffly from under his flimsy motel blanket, pressing his phone as close to his head as he could in an attempt to block out the clanging sound coming from the room's heating unit.
"Cas?"
"Hello Dean? Are you alright? It's 6:00am" the angel's voice answered from the other line.
"I'm fine, man. Listen-"
"You sound like you are most certainly not fine." Castiel interrupted.
"Okay. I might have a bit of a cold. Listen, I need you to check something out for me on that case." Dean was speaking as quietly as possible, hoping against hope that his brother was as deeply asleep as he appeared to be.
"With the witch?" Castiel inquired. Of course it was the one with the witch. It was the only side case they'd been investigating for the past week.
"Yeah. Write this down. It's an address. I want you to check it out. The place is supposed to be vacant but that tall blond glass of hotness filled me in on where this chick might be hiding." Dean could almost hear his friend scowl into the phone. He wasn't caught up on human flattery and/or picking up on women yet. For pete sake, he opted to spend what everyone feared would be the angel's last night alive with Dean rather than enjoying a brothel. Dean still smiled at the memory.
"I will remember it. I remember everything." the angel assured.
Dean felt like garbage, and definitely did not have time to argue. If Cas said he was going to remember the address, that was good enough.
"Okay. 841 Pike Haven. Repeat that back to me."
"841 Pike Haven" Cas's voice droned in response.
"Check it out and let me know. But be careful, man. Keep your head low."
"My head will be fine, Dean."
"Hey, Cas. Thanks for doing this for me."
"Of course. You know I always come when you call."
"Right. Go get 'em, Tiger."
It had been six hours since that call and Dean was running out of patience. He didn't want to pack Sam into the Impala and go out looking for Cas. Going alone was out of the question and just before Sam was all but out the door, Dean's cold medicine kicked in hard and Sam was reduced to keeping his dilerious brother in bed and out of harm's way.
"Dean?" A familiar voice sounded off from just inside the doorway of the motel room.
"Hey, Cas." Sam answered instead, sitting at the much-too-small table with a stack of notes in front of him. "Dean's knocked out- asleep." Sam corrected as soon as he started to see worry creep across the angel's expression.
"I'm still up." Dean slurred from where he was laying. If he was awake, he was not coherent.
"Sam." Cas turned to face the more useful brother. "I checked out the address that your brother mentioned."
"The one with the witch?" Sam inquired.
"The one that makes it always winter and never Christmas?" Dean asked in his state of semi-consciousness.
"Go to sleep! Your mixing movies up with real life again...though it's refreshing to see that you're thinking of a literary work rather than porn." Sam demanded.
Over the next ten minutes, the angel attempted to piece together for Sam the odd segments of his morning, explaining that after tricks, mind games, and copious verbal abuse, Cas eventually felt the need to end this square dance by stabbing her and shoving her down the home's staircase.
"She was a vile woman." Cas assured.
"Some witches are bitches." Dean giggled at himself.
"How much medication did he take?" his celestial friend worried.
"Enough. So, your first real hunt alone and you bagged her?" Sam clapped his friend on the back.
"Yes." Cas was not a great conversationalist.
"Without any problems?"
"Nothing I didn't remedy."
The older Winchester pulled himself into a half-sitting position, propping his head against the nightstand as he squinted in the direction of the voices he was hearing.
"Hey Cas." Dean waved weakly.
The angel's eyes widened and he curled forward where he stood, exhaling loudly from his nose. His hands braced his balance on the fronts of his thighs.
"Whoa, you okay?" Sam requested, stepping several paces toward the angel, meaning to catch him if he lost his balance.
After composing himself with a few more deep breaths, Cas stood up straight before shifting on his feet to where he stood with his tailbone positioned back farther than his usual rigid demeanor.
"I believe so. Sam, I...have to leave. I will return later."
And before Sam could protest, the angel was gone.
Castiel kept his word and returned to the motel room at around 4:00 that afternoon, bringing with him a styrofoam cup.
"Has Dean been awake?"
"Yeah, he's up now. He should be out of the shower any second. What's that?" Sam asked, motioning to the accessory in the angel's hand.
"I learned that humans like soup when they're unwell." Cas sat the cup down on the nightstand by Dean's bed and sat himself on the chair across from the younger and larger Winchester.
A sheepish smile crossed Sam's face but as the more tactful brother he decided against saying anything to correct the angel. Technically Castiel was right. Soup was good for sickness. Getting Dean to try anything aside from a dangerous amount of NyQuil was another story.
The older brother emerged from the bathroom, pulling on a t-shirt as he walked.
"Hey Cas." He called.
Again, the angel's body curled forward involuntarily, this time accompanied by his eyes squeezing shut and a low groan escaping chapped lips. Several shudders broke over his shoulders before he stilled and returned to a more casual seating position, cheeks now flushed.
"What was that?" Dean already crossed the room to check on his friend.
"He did it earlier, too." Sam noted.
"Guys, I assure you I'm fine." The angel's voice came out a little less than composed. "My vessel may very well have strained or pulled a muscle. It isn't of import."
But his vessel did not pull a muscle and Castiel knew this before he ever thought to say it. The real issue was of the biological nature, but one that he hadn't the slightest idea how he was going to remedy, it just kept happening, every time he was around the Winchesters.
This was getting out of hand. At first, the situation was shocking and a bit... well, a bit of a mess, but as these involuntary lapses in his vessel's control went on, they became more intense with each passing episode. What was happening? Why?
Three Days Later
Dean was on the mend and as such, he was out of bed and in the mood to very cautiously introduce Sam back into the ring. The worry that he wore was practically stained on his sleeves, obvious to everyone that wasn't completely blind. Sam saw it, and Cas saw it. The two of them wordlessly agreed to humor Dean and let him feel like he was succeeding in babying his younger brother. Of course, Sam knew a lot less than he thought he did, but his brother's Mother Henning was enough to be irritating.
"I'm just saying, Dean, I'm not made out of glass. So I spent some time in the cage. So did you. And?" Sam was sitting at the foot of his motel bed, watching as Dean fiddled with the TV's reception.
"Hey, I was never in the cage. Okay? I was on the rack."
"Honestly, though. I'm fine. I don't remem-"
"Sammy. Shut up. Just...let me work on this piece. of. junk." Dean drove his last three words home by slapping the side of the TV set several times.
The machine was not bolted to the dresser correctly and came off, falling toward the floor before the older Winchester blocked it with his leg, just in time to catch the mirror that came crashing forward from the wall just behind.
"Cas! Come help me with this, will ya?" Dean grumbled loudly while Sam watched in amusement.
During the entirity of this argument his human friends were having, the angel was sitting in the uncomfortable kitchenette chair that Sam has since abandoned. He simply listened, not wanting to interfere with family business and all had been going pretty well, all things considered.
Again, there suddenly came that sensation. Stronger this time. The angel felt the muscles in his stomach tighten, the blood rush in his vessel's veins, and his body went into a shuddering forward curl. His eyes squeezed shut and despite his efforts he was unable to stifle the slightest of groans. His face flushed as the dizzying wave of discomfort and ecstacy's love child faded away, leaving him uninjured but short of breath.
"Dude! What the hell is that you keep doing?" Sam was close, concerned. "You're acting like you're trying to fight the runs."
"Sam...I-" He didn't know what to say, opting to desperately shift his weight into his tailbone without his friend noticing the wet spot slowly seeping through the front of his slacks.
"Come get this shit!" Dean demanded of his brother, letting go of the TV and rushing to the angel's aid.
Cas's upper lip curled, moderately disgusted as he pressed his knees together and placed his hands on top of his thighs, doing the worst job at sitting casually, but satisfying the need to conceal his crotch.
"Something hurt?" Dean was so gruff in his worry.
"It isn't bad." Cas answered, grateful to high heaven that the groan he couldn't hold back didn't sound like one of pleasure. In truth, it had only been half-pleasure. The underlying feeling to these emmissions was overwhelming confusion and lonliness.
"Talk to me. What's happening?" The angel turned his gaze away from green eyes that felt like they were stripping him to the bone.
"Dean, I will be back. I promise." Without another word, Cas vanished in his typically unfashionable way.
The Following Afternoon
"Cas, buddy. Can you hear me? I'm just kinda checking on you. You said you'd be back and you haven't been. Let me know you're okay. We're at Bobby's now." Dean prayed.
He'd given his friend enough time. He avoided praying all morning, and the entire evening before. Since the angel clammed up about what was doing him in so intensely, the boys figured that Bobby was the best bet at finding the solution.
"H-hello...Dean" the angel appeared very shortly after that prayer. He took a step forward before sinking onto Bobby's couch and quickly holding a throw pillow down on his lap, entering into another fit of shivers and muscle spasms, panting and willing his vocal cords not to release a sound.
"Is that what he's been doing?" Bobby asked, gawking up from the fridge.
"Nevermind it. I actually ran here, testing what human lungs feel like when they're exhausted. I only zapped at the last moment." He lied. This was insane. Dean couldn't even pray to his angel without this happening? It wasn't fair!
Bobby was skeptical but he needed time.
"Right. Well, since you're fine and all, maybe you'd like to go with Dean to pick up some grub?" Bobby offered.
Cas nodded instantly. Anything to draw attention away from himself. He almost skipped out the door on Dean's heels, overhearing Sam whisper "We'll keep looking" to his brother before they left.
The car ride was almost silent but luckily there was a taco shop nearby that Dean was keen on trying. Bobby never said what kind of food they needed to pick up. He didn't specify that the two needed to go to a grocery store, and with Dean that meant that he was free to pick out whatever he wanted and right now he wanted tacos.
"Yeah, lemme get a #7...#4...a shrimp salad, one of those things- Hey Cas, you want anything?" Dean called over his shoulder.
Cas had been toward the entrance, walking about, looking at the pictures on the wall when he was again rocked by another flurry of incredible spasm. He stumbled forward, bracing his weight against a nearby garbage recepticle and groaning out loud, struggling to remain standing this time. Why, Dean? You son of a bitch, angels don't eat.
"¿Está bien?" The man behind the counter requested, eyebrow raised and motioning to the trembling man in the trenchcoat nearly toppling the garbage due to using it as a crutch.
"Um...I'll check." Dean answered. He was staring, too.
"Hey, are you bien?" Dean asked his friend, taking a step toward him.
"I'm...I'm bien, Dean...I'm...bien." The angel assured his human, limping off toward the public bathroom down the restaurant's narrow hallway.
"Yeah! He did it again. Right there in the middle of Roberto's Taco Shop." Dean answered.
"Dude, Cas. You gotta tell us what's wrong. It's getting worse." Sam mumbled over a mouthful of shrimp salad.
"Did you get into something you shouldn't have? I'm gonna go out on a far limb and say maybe...just maybe Nightshade poisoning." Bobby shrugged.
"Can angels even get poisoned?" Sam piped.
Meanwhile, Castiel sat across from his friends, staring at the floor. His cheeks became pink again, embarrassed that he'd caused such a fuss for everyone and confused about his inability to answer them. He knew what was happening physically but he had no idea how to stop it.
"CAS! Answer them!" Dean shouted, obviously tired of the angel's clamming.
Again, the intense pleasure ripped through the angel's body. He gripped the edge of the table, forced his hips not to thrust into his chair and moaned weakly. From there he waited until he was able to breathe again, before looking into the shocked faces of his human companions.
"Boys, did your daddy raise a couple of morons? Don't either of the two of you recognize an orgasm when you see it?!" Bobby was clearly as annoyed as he was surprised.
After the clash of laughter silenced into the night, the brothers focused on their friend, now thoroughly humiliated at his uncontrollable actions.
"Involuntary orgasms?" Sam asked, once he composed himself.
"That sucks, man. Just exploding in your pants out of nowhere." Dean nodded, still able to take another bite of taco.
"It isn't...out of nowhere." The angel answered quietly. When he was met by blank and curious silence, he continued.
"That witch...the one I killed this week. We were fighting and when I stabbed her, she said something to me. I didn't know it at the time but she intended something vindictive when she told me that the last words in the last conversation I had with a loved one were going to become literal truth. Those words were..."
"To me." Dean finished.
"What did he say?" Sam was all ears.
"You know I come whenever you call." Castiel answered flatly.
"What does this mean?" Dean was bewildered and feeling put on the spot at the idea of his best friend reaching the peak of pleasure at his voice.
"Captain Idjit, it means he's gonna blow a load every time you call him." Bobby grumped.
"I call you, it doesn't happen when I do it." Sam pointed out.
"I don't think it works like that." Bobby continued.
"What, do you like him better or something?" Sam asked, feeling left out for some very odd reason.
"Sam this is hardly the time." Cas's sullen voice abruptly knocked sense into the younger brother.
"But, Dean says your name a lot and there's no way this happens every single time he-"
"No, Sam. It's very specific. I...I come every time he calls me. He can talk about me, or say my name when he's talking directly to me. But if he calls out to me, I can control what happens." Cas explained.
"Well, shit. I could call you by something else, like Angel." Dean suggested.
"Please don't, Dean. I fear the intent will be the same regardless. I'm trapped."
"No, give me time. I just need to figure out how long this is going to last or if we can somehow stop it. There is a chance." Bobby suggested.
(TO BE CONTINUED)