Title: Rock and Roll Train (for no reason other than I wanted an excuse to use the lyrics for this song, AC/DC's Rock and Roll Train)
Author: Temperance
Summary: Just a naughty little oneshot that I couldn't get out of my head because I really wanted Dean to strip Castiel out of those clothes.
Ratings: PG13 (it's fluffy... like bunnies!)
A/N: It's two in the a.m. And I ought to be asleep because I have a big, full day of work to get through today but I'm doing this. Enough said.
Disclaimer: Come on, clearly I don't own these characters. If I did there would be a lot more topless scenes... scenes would be set, inexplicably, in locker rooms where everyone had either just gotten out of or was just going into the showers, the boys would get mauled by the monster of the week only it would leave them miraculously unharmed but, tragically, shirtless. I imagine they'd say things like "damn, I just bought that shirt" a lot. But seriously, I own nothing but the actions I made them take.
Rock and Roll Train
One hot angel
One cool devil
Your mind on the fantasy
Livin' on the ecstasy
When Dean entered the posh hotel room, the first thing he noticed was the girl. A pretty girl always caught his eye and it didn't hurt that she was a brunette, his favorite. She was slender, tall, with killer dark brown eyes, but there was something about the way she slouched in her chair that set Dean's senses to tingle. Something about this girl was off and given Dean's luck as of late if he tried to hit on her, she'd probably sprout horns and devour the souls of babies while kicking puppies. Yeah, it had been that kind of a week.
The next thing he noticed was Castiel, surrounded as he always seemed to be recently, by his angel posse, chief among them was Uriel. None of them turned when Dean entered the room, as if he were expected, as if he hadn't just spent four days hunting them down. They spoke in hushed tones, mouths moving furiously though no discernible words came out, just a low, barely audible whine. Whatever they were talking about it was important enough to warrant use of their True voices.
Silently, Dean walked over to where the girl sat and took the empty chair across from her. Her eyes flicked quickly in Dean's direction before settling back to staring at the far wall. Dean sat with her, neither speaking, keeping his right hand covertly gripped on the pearl handle of his favorite glock just in case she went batshit, until the angels were done conspiring. Dean rose quickly to his feet, letting go of his gun, as Castiel stepped away from the group and approached him.
"Dean," Castiel said, "you shouldn't be here now."
"Well hello to you too, sunshine," Dean deadpanned. "It took me four days to find you so-"
"I know," Castiel interrupted.
"You know?" Dean balked. Four days. Four days he'd spent driving aimlessly through three states, making deals with every hunter and psychic he could find. Promising the sun, the moon, and the most expensive bottle of single malt scotch Dean had ever laid his hot little hands on. All to find Castiel and all the while he knew Dean had been looking for him? Dean's nostril's flared and his jaw clenched then unclenched rapidly for several moments. "Why didn't you give me a heads up? A 'Hey, Dean, I'm over here. You can stop looking for me'?"
"Now's not a good time," Castiel said.
"I don't give a damn," Dean barked. "Make it a good time."
Castiel lowered his head and gazed steely-eyed up at Dean. Every fiber in Dean's body screamed with warning at the unmistakable menace in that look, but he willed himself not to shrink away and was rewarded with the slightest of nods from Castiel. Castiel turned away from Dean, returning to the group of gathered angels, and in moments the barely audible whine became a migraine inducing shrill tone that filled the room and set Dean's teeth to vibrate uncomfortably.
Dean turned away from the rapidly animating group of angels to find the strange girl had gotten off her seat and was standing behind him. She seemed to be staring at Dean but also staring through him, listening to something other that the awful noise. Dean pressed the heels of his hands roughly into his ears as the sound gained tempo and volume to keep his brain from leaking out when the sound liquefied it. Having had enough Dean brushed past the strange woman, who seemed impervious to the level of noise in the room, and rushed out into the hallway.
Outside the noise was less pronounced but still clearly audible. Dean took several minutes to catch his breath, clear his head, and wait for the noise to quiet to an acceptable level. When the noise finally died down Dean went back inside the room, this time every angel, save Castiel who had his head down and his back to Dean, turned to watch Dean enter the room. Only when he took his seat across from the mystery woman did the frantic, albeit hushed, discussion resume.
"You're a bit remarkable," the woman across from him said suddenly. She rested her elbows on her knees to better stare at Dean and cupped her face in her hands. "Did you know that?"
Dean flashed his best smile and said; "I'm just an average guy."
"It's because you're so average that you're remarkable," she pressed. "You save people, you hunt evil, you go seeking out evil to kick it's ass. That is remarkable, even Castiel thinks so."
"I doubt that," Dean remarked under his breath.
"He does," she said raising her head out of her hands. "I hear them talk about you, they think I can't understand, that if they speak low enough they won't fracture my ear drums... or my skull, but I understand them. The others are worried for Castiel." She turned her big searching eyes towards the group of angels, towards Castiel, and stared.
"Why would they do that?" Dean asked.
"Because of you. Because Castiel seems to think that the sun might actually rise and fall on your command." She turned back to Dean and scooted closer to him on her chair, leaning so close Dean could smell her floral perfume. "Because Castiel thinks that you are the most remarkable of all God's creation and they're worried that, if he had to choose, he would follow you and forsake them." Dean scoffed loudly at her claim, drawing none of the angel's attention, but she was unwavering. " I think he has a man crush on you, in that you are a man and it is an angel. It may be blasphemy but, I can't help feeling that this is all God's fault."
"Why's that?" Dean asked. She stared at him incredulously, the answer so blatantly obvious to her that she couldn't fathom that he didn't know.
"That little jaunt he took into hell, it wasn't some stroll to the corner hell-store for him. Castiel had to fight his way to you, then grasp you to him and fly the both of you out of there without ending up dead himself.
"That memento on your shoulder, that mark, you left a mark on him too. You wondered why your skin was suddenly pristine, it's because he took on every scar from every wound you've ever received. Under those simple clothes his body is covered in your scars." Dean blinked at her, turned towards where Castiel stood and blinked several times at his back, then turned back to the woman. "You should take his clothes off sometime."
"What?" Dean asked. "Oh, sweetheart, that's somethin' that's not likely to happen."
She rolled her eyes at Dean. "Don't be such a child. They're just clothes, to him they might as well be nothing. Clothes to an angel are like... a broken light switch; on or off is inconsequential, either way doesn't matter it does nothing. If you were to strip him down he wouldn't even bat an eye. Besides, you should see the mark you left on him, it's really something to behold."
She reached over and patted his leg then sat back in her chair, Dean continued to stare at her. She was nuts, obviously, because there was no way Dean was ever going to make an angel strip. Although, the longer he thought about it, thought about what he'd find under those clothes, hard, lean muscle, wrapped in velvety, creamy skin. Thought about running his hand down that firm chest, feeling the muscles jerk under his hand, tightening and quivering. Thought about slowly unwrapping Castiel's stolen body like a Christmas present, and Dean had to shift awkwardly in his chair.
Suddenly, the noise in the room stopped and Dean realized that all of the angel's eyes were upon him. Had they been monitoring his thoughts the way Castiel always seemed to do? Did they know what Dean was thinking? Castiel stepped away from the group, towards Dean, and Dean prepared himself for a violent ejection from this mortal coil. Castiel leaned down into the woman's face, piercing the personal bubble as he was so fond of doing, to look her in the eyes.
"Please," Castiel said politely, "try and control yourself." The girl nodded solemnly and Castiel straightened. "You'll need to keep her with you," Castiel said to Uriel behind him, "it's not safe to keep her amongst them."
Uriel nodded and motioned for the woman to get up and follow him, both of which she did silently but not before she stopped to rest a hand on Castiel's shoulder. In a flash the angels, and the mysterious woman, were gone and Castiel and Dean were alone. Castiel faced the door, keeping Dean in his peripheral, and watched the closed door.
"I apologize for that," Castiel said finally. "I realize it must have been jarring."
Dean laughed uncomfortably. "What was jarring?"
"Jacqueline," Castiel said nodding towards the door, "her... ability. I realize it must have been overwhelming."
"She has an ability?" Dean asked. He stood, finally able to stand, and stood in front of Castiel, taking up his field of vision.
"She's a piece," Castiel said.
Dean waited for Castiel to go on and when he didn't Dean prompted him, "A piece of what?"
Castiel sighed. "The archangel Michael. After The Battle In Heaven, when Michael sealed Lucifer away, he was shattered into seven pieces and hidden amongst the children of men. Generations upon generations have lived with this inside them and it would have remained dormant if Lilith weren't so close to breaking the seals completely. Jacqueline is the fifth one that's active, that we've found but hers is the most dangerous thus far."
"What the hell does she do?" Dean asked.
"Michael could inspire love and devotion in the hearts of men on the battlefield," Castiel said. "The Sacred Band of Thebes, that was Michael's doing. Michael could stand amongst men and inspire such pure love and devotion that men would gladly fight and die for one another. She, however, is a human woman. She can't control an angel's supreme gift but sometimes she let's it seep out. That's what she did just now. Whatever you thought, whatever you felt, it was because of her."
Dean shrugged, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn, and glanced idly around the room.
"You sought me out," Castiel said.
Dean latched onto the conversation, grateful for the subject change, and laid out his reason for the unexpected visit; Sam was missing. Two weeks' worth of missing and Dean hadn't been able to find him anywhere. He was hoping to use Castiel's angelic lo-jack but Castiel's dour expression when Dean even hinted at it made him think again. Castiel agreed to help Dean look for Sam, look for clues to where Sam had gone because hadn't they had a fight before he left, so couldn't he just be somewhere cooling off? In no time flat they were back in Piedmont, Wisconsin at The Blue Moon Motel looking for clues.
Dean hadn't even bothered to check out of the room, just paid up for a month in case Sam did come back and headed off to find Cas. Castiel paced the length of the room, again. Following the last path Sam had before he'd stormed out. Dean watched as Castiel moved slowly across the floor, for the hundredth time. It seemed tedious and Dean still didn't see how this was going to help them find Sam as it had yet to yield any results. Two hours of pacing and bubkiss. Still, Dean felt compelled to let him pace as long as he wanted while Dean watched and let his mind wander down the same bizarre path it had in Castiel's hotel room.
Dean thought about Castiel in the biblical, carnal, sense and it hadn't fazed him, had yet to faze him. As he watched Castiel's brows furrow in concentration Dean noted, with an oddly content feeling, how beautiful Castiel was. Dean could appreciate that and felt no shame or disgust in it. Dean watched as Castiel headed back towards the dresser and came to a halt, the place where he would stand for several minutes looking contemplative before starting the whole process again.
After a few moments of careful consideration Dean decided that there was definitely something different about Castiel. Something about the way his thick, burnished hair lay on his head. Something about the way his trench coat hung on his broad shoulders. Something about the way his white button up shirt pulled against his muscles when he flexed unintentionally. Something about the way his voice sounded rough, deep, and melodious. Something that caught hold of Dean's attention and wouldn't let go. Something had definitely changed about Castiel and what terrified Dean was the looming realization that it wasn't Castiel who had changed but himself and the way he saw Castiel.
Castiel stood stiff as if he were carved from stone, not yet ready to begin his pacing again. Before Dean could think it through he moved to stand in front of Castiel. The angel peered up at him with his wide blue eyes and Dean swallowed loudly. "What're you trying to do, exactly?" Dean asked.
"I am trying to tap into Sam's psychic energy to locate him," Castiel said pensively. "It is proving to be harder than I had thought."
"Obviously," Dean muttered. Castiel either didn't hear him or ignored his comment, neither of which Dean minded.
Castiel shut his eyes, folded his hands together as if in prayer, and the hand print on Dean's shoulder began to vibrate and tingle. Dean rubbed at the mark idly through his shirt and wondered if what Jacqueline had told him was even half true. Was Castiel covered in Dean's old scars? No, was the vessel covered in Dean's scars? Castiel was an angel inhabiting this man's body after all. Lest Dean forget this was just some schmuck who got caught up in Castiel's angelic wake.
Experimentally, haltingly, Dean reached up and grabbed the collar of Castiel's tan duster. He pulled it off of Castiel's shoulders, Castiel merely opened his eyes but didn't resist, and Dean wrapped his arms around the angel to pull it free before tossing it carelessly onto the bed. Dean paused, staring into Castiel's eyes, knowing he was in too close a proximity, inside the angel's personal space, breathing shallow, panting breaths, waiting. Castiel continued to stare placidly at him, even as Dean reached out again and loosened Castiel's tie. Dean slipped it off easily and tossed it the way of the jacket.
Dean started working on the buttons to Castiel's dress shirt, stealing furtive glances up at Castiel's eyes waiting for some change. Derision, anger, but all he saw was a mild curiosity. Fumblingly, agonizingly so, Dean managed to unbutton Castiel's shirt and he pressed his palms against the soft cotton tee shirt covering Castiel's breast. His eyes locked on Castiel's Dean moved his hands up Castiel's chest and over his shoulders allowing the white shirt to fall, forgotten, to the ground. The white cotton undershirt was tucked into Castiel's pants and Dean had to claw softly at Castiel's waistline until the hem came free and he was able to grasp it and, in one fluid motion, pull it over Castiel's head with the angel raising his arms in assistance.
Dean threw the white shirt on the pile of clothes on the bed and slowly raked his eyes over Castiel's body. She hadn't been lying. Twenty-eight years of living the hunter lifestyle all carved into the flesh of the most exquisite creature Dean had ever seen. It seemed a sacrilege that anything mar something so beautiful. Dean reached out and let his fingertips brush over the thin silver scar that had once ran along his collar bone from the car accident that should have claimed his life. He moved his hand down to touch the bullet wound he'd gotten from the possessed Deputy Director Skinner almost a year ago. He grazed the deep, gnarled scar he'd gotten on his lower abdomen from a flying set of Ginsu knives while trying to exorcise the delightful Mrs. Marple when he was fifteen, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Castiel.
"It tickled," Castiel said when Dean peeked up at him from under his lashes, a smug smile on his face. Castiel's voice hinted at intrigue that he had even experienced the sensation.
Dean smiled broader and repeated the act to much of the same reaction. Dean inched closer to Castiel, their bodies becoming a scant few inches apart, and began truly touching the wounds, his wounds. He pressed his palm flat against the knife wound he'd sustained to his right shoulder, his other hand he set to rubbing small circles with his thumb on the most recent bullet wound. Soon he was running his hands all over the vessel's torso, moving his hands up and down, left and right, relishing in the feel of the sinewy flesh beneath his fingers. Dean watched his hands work, hypnotized by how natural it felt to touch the man before him in such an intimate manner, to want to touch him.
Castiel moved his own hand, bringing it to rest on Dean's hand, stopping them over the vessel's pounding heart, then slowly Castiel trailed his hand up Dean's arm. Up to Dean's shoulder, his fingers brushing softly over Dean's neck sending shivers down Dean's spine, until he gently cupped Dean's cheek in his palm. Slowly they inclined towards one another until their lips brushed in a lingering, chaste kiss.
When the kiss broke Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's, Castiel's thumb rubbing soft circles against his cheek. Dean worked his hand up Castiel's chest, around his neck, and snaked it into Castiel's thick hair.
"What is happening?" Dean asked bewildered.
"It's nothing," Castiel said gently, "it will pass. Like I told you; a human child can not wield the might of an angel."
"That girl did this?" Dean asked softly. Still unwilling to move, unwilling to part from Castiel. "Why?"
Castiel sighed and said: "A kiss seals two souls for a moment in time." Dean shook his head slowly. "Give it time," Castiel assured him, "it will pass."
Deep inside Dean doubted that, doubted whether any kiss would send electricity up his spine like theirs had, deep inside he knew he would always feel something for Castiel. For the rest of his life a part of Dean would always love Castiel, and they both knew it.
The door unlocked and before he could even think to tell himself to Dean had turned, drew his gun, and aimed it at the door. Sam appeared with a grocery bag in his arms. Sam's face registered relief when he saw Dean, confusion when he noted Castiel's level of undress, then annoyance when he turned back to Dean.
"Dude," Sam yelled. He set the grocery bag on the table. "Where the hell have you been? I have been looking for you everywhere."
"Where have I been?" Dean countered stepping towards his brother and gesturing wildly with his gun. "Where the hell have you been? I," Dean pressed the gun against his chest momentarily, "have been driving through three states looking for you. I had to track down Castiel," Dean pointed the gun at Castiel as the angel finished slipping on his trench coat, "to track you down."
"Firstly," Sam started, "put the gun away before you hurt someone." Dean rolled his eyes but tucked the gun back into the safety of his waistband. "Secondly, I went to get something to eat and was abducted by witches. I was bound, gagged, tortured, one of them tried to seduce me, I broke free, smashed all their hex charms, and got them arrested. You were driving around in the car for a while, gosh, that must have sucked."
"Screw you," Dean scoffed. "I had to ask a favor of the angels, and you know I hate talking to them."
Sam began another round of scathing retorts, Dean was pleased to see that this, at least, hadn't changed, but as Castiel slipped unobtrusively out the door and vanished Dean could feel him go, felt the loss inside, and ached for his return already. Sam continued in their brotherly banter, arguing who'd had the worst couple of weeks, but Dean's mind drifted. He thought back to moments ago, his hands caressing scars that had once been his own, when he did the simplest thing in the world. He leaned down and kissed Castiel. And the world cracked open.
A/N: Just wanted to note a couple of things; there are two quotes in here and I wanted to give credit where credit is due.
"A kiss seals two souls for a moment in time." - Levende Waters
"Then I did the simplest thing in the world. I leaned down... and kissed him. And the world cracked open." - Agnes de Mille