"Come one, dude, just—just give it a try!" Sam hiccupped, his glazed stare trying to find Castiel's.
"Sam, I don't think it's very… advisable given the situation—"
Castiel grumbled, his mind buzzing. How had he gotten himself in this? It's just tonight, Sam had said. Only a few drinks, nothing bad will happen, Sam said. But this sure as hell wasn't "nothing".
Ever since he'd mysteriously broken out of the Cage, Sam had found that he either suffered from the most epic case of insomnia ever, or else something was severely wrong with him.
Sam was numb. Physically, he felt just fine. But inside, he was hollow. He was empty. Or at least, that's how we would describe it, if he could feel anything at all. Unable to think of a better solution, he had once again resigned to praying to Castiel—only this time, the angel seemed much more attentive.
"I still don't know what's wrong, Sam," Castiel said, making Sam jump. "Sorry," he offered. Though it had been some years since they'd first met, Castiel still wasn't used to the fact that the Winchesters simply couldn't feel his arrival without actually seeing or hearing it.
"It's okay, Cas. I'm not going to ask for help, I just—I need someone to spend some time with, Cas. And I can't go back to Dean. I'm not ruining what little hope he has."
"I'm afraid I can't be of much help, Sam. I have certain things to tend to."
"Yeah, I know, your civil war. I'm just thinking, Cas, you probably need someone to blow steam off with, too."
Castiel tilted his head in confusion. Sam was offering him his companionship. The only other human with whom he'd ever been close was Dean, and, given that it was Dean, "companionship" wasn't exactly the proper term for their bonding activities.
"If that's what you wish, Sam," Castiel said, undoing the knot of his tie.
Sam looked at the angel with a mirrored bewilderment, and once Castiel began unbuttoning his shirt, he asked, "Cas, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm giving you companionship," the angel offered quite simply.
"Would you mind keeping your clothes on, then?"
"Dean suggested that as well one time. He said he enjoyed it, but truthfully, I found it quite tedious to have my pants around my ankles the whole time," Cas mused, leaving a horrified Sam staring at him.
"Cas… Castiel, tell me you and Dean haven't—have you—my God, you fucked my brother!" Sam blurted out, his eyes wide with revulsion, or fear—it was hard to tell, when a man was incapable of actual emotion.
"Okay, Cas. Let's get one thing straight. I'm not looking for—for companionship, the way Dean apparently is. And while I'm at it, from now on what you and Dean do when I'm not around is none of my business."
"I apologize, Sam. I didn't think you would take it like this."
Since the first night Castiel had answered Sam's prayers, Sam had been picking out a random day a week to see the angel. Usually they spent their nights sitting in a park bench, doing what Castiel referred to as "embracing God's presence", but to Sam felt much more like "vegetating".
One night, Sam decided to break the routine by taking Castiel to a small bar. It was dingy, cramped, and smelled odd, but it was as good a place as any, because it was the last place Dean would think to look for them, in case he woke up.
"Sam, I don't think this is the most appropriate place for me," Castiel said warily. Sam immediately remembered why; Castiel's history with alcohol was not filled with tender moments.
"Relax, Cas. It's going to be fine," Sam said, without giving Castiel so much as a single glance.
"Cas. Casssss. You said dare, Cas, you said it! Now you gotta pull through, man," Sam taunted, giggling rather stupidly.
"You—you said this was not none of your business," Cas retorted (badly).
"I'm not saying you gotta do it all the time, just right now, right here. Right now."
Castiel grumbled something, only speaking up to say, "Fine."
Next thing Sam knew, they were standing back in his and Dean's motel room. It was dark, but for some reason Dean had left the blinds drawn, so a sliver of moonlight trickled in.
Castiel silently sat next to Dean, careful not to wake him. He lowered his face close to the hunter's, and grazed Dean's cheek with his lips. Castiel was about to move, when Dean suddenly shifted himself to his side, making Castiel lose what little balance he had.
Castiel was now lying flat on his back, a slumbering Dean Winchester facing him. Dean snorted, and his arm immediately shot out, grabbing, searching for purchase—a pillow, perhaps—but only finding Castiel. A small gasp escaped the intoxicated angel's lips as he placed his own hand around Dean's. Without thinking, without even considering the sleeping hunter's brother was in the same room, Castiel moved their joined hand south. Cupping, squeezing, Castiel closed his eyes. His free hand immediately reached to touch Dean, to caress him, fingers splayed territorially.
Castiel pulled Dean closer, until their hipbones were touching. Abandoning Dean's hand where he had placed it moments before, Castiel hooked his hand inside Dean's pajama bottoms, somewhat gingerly feeling the skin beneath it. He pushed Dean against himself, slowly, making sure to dig his fingers into every inch of the hunter's that he could find. Somewhere in the frotting, Castiel had managed to rid both himself and Dean of the constricting pants. He clutched at himself and his sleeping hunter, as he pushed Dean closer and closer, now slowly, now hungrily, creating a steady rhythm that would meld with his racing, ecstatic heart—
And then, warmth. Castiel panted, contented, his eyes yielding to a tiredness he had not felt in months, but not quickly enough to miss Dean's vivid, open eyes staring right at him, his expression unfathomable, his smile indecipherable, the sound of Sam's violent retching somewhere in the background.
okay so
basically I wrote this last night, 3 AM, in between Hot Pockets and cyber!crack. It's a smutty smutty Dean/Cas oneshot, but the characters listed are Castiel and Sam because Dean is asleep he whole time.
and this really should have been up there, shouldn't it. hehehehoo.
