Title: Mother Hen
Summary: Sometimes you got to just have a little faith; in each other and yourself. Dean/Castiel
Disclaimer: I own nothing; that privilege belongs to Eric Kripke!
ENJOY!
Fuck.
This was gonna be hard to explain to Sammy, Dean thought as his fingers nimbly worked at the zipper of Cas' pants, his breaths coming out as labored pants from anticipation, his heart thumping loudly within his chest, nearly as loud as the wonderful moans that are coming out of Cas' mouth.
He really had no clue how this even happened, or how the fuck it even got this heavy so soon. Not that he minded, really, he felt like he was gonna explode from the pressure that was straining against the front of his pants.
They had just been talking, what, like an hour ago? Dean had been sitting inside the shitty motel they had bought for the night, laying haphazardly on the well worn couch, a bottle of bud in one hand, and the remote in the other. He had been flipping through the channels, most of them coming out only as white noise and fuzz. Damn he hated the boonies; he just wanted him and Sam to get the hell out of hillbilly central, somewhere where he could score some decent porn, at least.
Dean had scoped out the bar down the road after, but he should have known how badly that would've just turned out. The bar had the indecency to turn off Zeppelin in favor of Tim McGraw. Seriously? McGraw? That was only the first of many disappointments at Lenny's Bar and Grill.
Most of the women there were friendly enough, only took a wink and a charming smile to get them to practically swoon at his feet, but you can only have so much wild sex with a dumb waitress before the act becomes just a little too repetitive, boring.
Dean had been lost in his thoughts on the bar stool, when he felt a warm, feminine hand rest gently on his shoulder. He could smell strong perfume waft under his nose, a combination of what he assumed was some cheap ass fragrance and a little too much hairspray.
"Is this seat taken?" the voice said, a soft drawl attached to it.
"It is now," Dean charmed, turning around to introduce himself to hopefully the girl he'd be spending the night with.
The woman, probably around her early twenties, had long, wavy chestnut hair with big brown eyes that worked as the centerpiece of her face. She was lithely built, her chest accentuated by the slightly cheesy pink top, and her legs dangling beneath a tight leather mini.
Not bad, thought Dean, definitely the best pick outta this shit hole.
"I'm Sarah, are you new in town or somethin'? I'd definitely recognize a handsome face like yours, darlin'" she murmured, leaning forward in her seat, her elbow resting on the bar while her other hand reached out to pat gently at his knee.
"Well Sarah, I'm sort of just passin' through. Kind of just wanting to go out and see the world a bit, getting some good ol' fashion adventure in my life." Dean spoke, his mouth widening into a handsome grin, working his charm with the small town girl.
And by adventure, I of course mean the hunting of the devil and his elusive band of deranged demons, the usual, Dean thought sarcastically.
Sarah smiled even more broadly at him as Dean hailed the bartender down to their side of the bar, and ordered a shot of Jack Daniels for each of them.
Score, Dean inwardly smiled as he raised his shot glass up to Sarah's.
Now, it had been, what, about three or four shots later that he began to feel a little tingly from the Jack that was currently running through his system. Sarah was off her barstool by then, dancing provocatively in front of him, leaning in every once in a while to give his ear a soft nip, or his lap a not-so-subtle pat. Dean was ready to get out of the bar by now, wanted to head back to the motel and not surface till morning when he sent little miss Sarah on her way just like so many before her…
Here we go, Dean thought, as he reached for the twenty in his pocket, throwing it on the table as he grabbed Sarah's hand and made his way out to the impala.
By the time the two reached the car door, Sarah had her hands down his pants, her digit's drunkenly running along his quickly hardening member as she purred incoherent talk into his ear. Dean let out a groan of surprise as she fully grasped him, fumbling with his keys, needing to get the fuck out of here ASAP.
"Come on baby, just open, goddamnit," Dean growled, slamming the key into the slot, until, alas, he smiled when he heard the clink of the door unlocking.
Finally, Dean thought graciously.
He was just about to push Sarah into the backseat, when he felt a heavy, masculine hand on his shoulder, and before he could even fully turn around, his face was met directly with a rather large fist and the face of what he presumed was a very, very livid boyfriend.
Dean lay out on the grass in front of the bar for what felt like hours since the tumble with Sarah's "little friend".
How the fuck was he supposed to know that she had an estranged husband? You figured that should somehow come up in conversation before you stick your hand down some guy's pants. He put up a valiant fight, Dean did, but the guy was like a fucking brown bear or some shit. Plus, the alcohol and the hand that had still been conveniently in his pants didn't help him focus.
Dean reached up to the cut above his eye, flicking off the dried blood absent mindedly, when he felt a soft gust of wind, unnatural in the relatively still air.
Damn, bad timing Cas, he thought with a sigh.
"Dean, we need to talk." Castiel spoke calmly, not even bother to glance down at Dean.
All business, Dean thought, gotta give it to the guy for bein' consistent.
"Heya Cas, how's it hangin'? How's the whole God thing goin'? Tell daddy I said hey." Dean muttered, a small smile on his face as he pulled his hands behind his head, resting his pounding head on his wrists, making no effort to stand.
"The search is proving futile; I figured there are perhaps bigger things afoot to dedicate my time for. That is why I am here." Cas rationalized, finally glancing down at Dean's crumbled form. Taking in his staggered appearance, he cocked his head to the side, obviously confused.
"You are hurt," Cas stated, his eyes ghosting over Dean's face.
"No shit, Sherlock." Dean laughed bitterly, patting the ground beside him gently, "Take a load off, Cas."
Cas looked around at the nearby forest and the bar in the distance, before resting his eyes once again on Dean.
"Cas, just fucking sit," Dean sighed, resigned.
Cas opened his mouth as if he wanted to protest, but with a soft shrug of his shoulders, he decided it was probably just futile to protest, and made his way over to the grassy knoll beside Dean, slowly lowering himself into an Indian style seat.
"So what, God's left the building or something? He pullin' an Elvis and going underground?" Dean joked.
"I honestly do not know, Dean." Cas sighed, looking a little put out, "I wish I did, more than anything, but I feel that this is just pointless."
"Hey, come on Cas, I was just kidding, and finding God isn't pointless, I mean, maybe we're just not looking hard enough?" Dean pondered aloud, side-glancing Cas to gouge his reaction. The angel barely even winked at that.
"Dean, I appreciate your attempts at comfort," Cas spit out, a hint of bitterness present that Dean didn't pick up on before, "But maybe we should all look to the possibility that Rafael was right."
Dean fully turned over to look at Cas on that note. He'd never heard the angel be so down on his faith before. I mean, he was all for Cas rebelling, not turning into a stepford Bitch in paradise and what not, but not like this. He looked like a puppy that had been repeatedly kicked in the side.
"Hey, Cas, look at me," Dean ordered, but Cas remained as stiff as a board, staring off into the distance.
"Cas, I said fucking look at me," Dean spoke harshly, grabbing for Cas' shoulder, turning him around.
Cas looked Dean directly in the eyes, electric blue meeting emerald, his face stony as usual, but his eyes gave him away; they were wide with wild desperation and fear.
"We will find your father, alright? I don't want to hear you talking like this, ya' got that chuckles? I don't want to hear you talking like this ever, or so help me, I will kick your ass." Dean purposefully said, his words punctuated by the occasional tug on the jacket or a soft shake, his eyes forcefully locked to Castiel's.
Cas stared dumbly back at him, still looking a little stony, but his face softened quite a bit at Dean's threat, his lips softly pulling in the corner in what Dean presumed was the angels attempt at a smile. Hell, he'd take what he could get, and Dean was just glad to see some of the desperation wiped off the vessel's face.
"Thank you, Dean." Cas murmured, his face returning to its usual calm, but the smile still tugging at his lips.
It was then that Dean realized just how close the two of them were. Dean's attempts to get Cas to man up and look at him had caused the angel to practically be laying on the ground, his face a few inches from Dean's, his body close enough to the hunter's to radiate some comforting heat in the cold mountain air.
Dean coughed awkwardly then, taking a minute to scoot over a bit, wiping his hand on his pants as he attempted to wipe off invisible specks of dirt.
"S'no problem, you know. Don't want you out here crying on my shoulder or something, ya' know. Gotta keep the chick flick moments to a minimum." Dean attempted, giving a weak laugh as he finally looked back up at Cas.
"Well, regardless, it is much appreciated." Cas said softly, "Now, what has happened to you?"
Dean literally laughed out loud at that, as Cas finally took in the beaten visage of Dean, glancing over the many cuts and forming bruises on the hunter.
"Let's just say that from now on, instead of asking a girl if she'd like a drink first, I'll be checking her finger for a ring." Dean joked, as he began to stand a little, his face forming into a grimace as he pulled his straining muscles from the locked position.
Cas was up in a heartbeat and offered Dean his hand, shaking it slightly in front of Dean's face when the hunter ignored the offered limb.
"I'm fine, Cas, really. I'm not some chick you need to mother hen aft…Seriously dude?!" Dean choked, as Cas gripped under Dean's armpit and gently yanked him to a standing position, even helping to dust the dirt off of Dean's shoulders before Dean could slap the angel's hands away.
"I raised you from perdition, I can certainly raise you off the ground after a drunken stupor," Cas tartly said, although Dean could sense the slight joke in his voice, especially since it was at his expense.
"Ha-ha, Yeah I know, touched by an angel and all that shit." Dean threw out sarcastically, wiping the rest of the dirt off himself.
"I'm surprised you even stayed this long, Cas, considering you usually just poof right out of here." Dean said, side glancing the angel as they headed back to the Impala.
"Well, now that I am, as you say, fired from Heaven, I tend to enjoy your company, Dean Winchester," Cas explained, turning his head to gouge Dean's reaction, "Probably more than I should."
Dean pretended he didn't hear the last part as they finally made it to the car.
"Yeah, well, you ain't too bad yourself there, angel-boy. You know, when you aren't being a complete dick, you're not half bad." Dean revealed, his face forming into a grin as he climbed into the front seat.
"Thank you for that, uh, compliment." Cas spoke, "I believe that is what is called a half-ass one?"
"Well look at you Cas, all grown up and making jokes. Where's Sammy when you need him?" Dean laughed.
"I believe Samuel is at the motel?" Cas offered helpfully.
"Cas, it was, you know what, never mind." Dean laughed again.
They drove in silence after that, listening to the soft squeal of the tires on turns, and the sound of the air whipping past the Impala.
"Do you believe that God is dead, Dean?" Cas asked quietly, his eyes determinedly trained on the window.
"What? Why the hell you asking me, dude? I thought we already discussed this, Cas. Why you…?" Dean rushed, looking at Cas.
"I know you don't have much faith, Dean. I regret to say that you have not been given much to really believe in…" Cas pondered aloud.
"Hey, Cas, listen, you're right, I don't have a lot of faith. Most of the angels I've met have been huge dicks who consider humanity a bunch of cockroaches, but I've got faith in you, man. Despite how much of a girl I feel saying this to you, I put a lot of trust into you there Chuckles, and if you think that pops of yours is still up there, well hell, that's good enough for me." Dean said, taking a deep breath after that mouthful.
Cas looked thoughtful for a moment, pondering what Dean said.
"Dean, Th…" Cas said, before Dean put up a hand to silence him.
"You don't have to thank me. You never have to thank me for anything. I sure as hell haven't done anything to deserve your gratitude." Dean spoke slowly, not even bothering to look at Cas.
"I know you believe you haven't been redeemed, but you have. God loves all and forgives all. You have many people who love you, Dean." Cas spoke resolutely, turning to fully look at Dean.
"Yeah, like who, Sam? Bobby? I'm just one big failure to them. All of this shit with Sam, he practically hates me now, and I know how disappointed Bobby is of me. I failed, I failed them all." Dean spoke quietly, squinting his eyes at the silent darkness that enveloped the outside of the car, his knuckles turning white from the pressure he was applying to the steering wheel.
"That's not true." Cas spoke empathetically.
"Why the hell do you even care, Cas?" Dean harshly spoke, his tough edge coming back full force, "What do you even mean that's not true, I know…"
"Bobby and Sam aren't the only ones who love you." Cas whispered.
"What, you mean Ellen and Jo, I mean…" Dean viciously said.
"Dean, no…" Cas choked out, his eyes flying to his lap as his hands wrung together absentmindedly.
"Well, who then Cas? Who? God? Jesus? Barney?" Dean practically yelled as the car came to a stop in the parking lot of the motel, "Who could love me? Come on Cas, I know that whole bullshit of redemption and salvation, but that's not true for everyone. The things I've done, there is no salvation. Who could love someone like that?!"
"Me." Cas said clearly, his eyes turning up to Dean's, his face livid, his eyes blazing with anger.
Dean just stared dumbly at Cas for a moment before choking out "Wha-", but he was quickly cut off with Cas' lips on his own, clumsily fumbling against his.
Dean wanted to push the angel off, wanted to run away from this car and not look back, wanted to kick the shit out of chuckles here for turning gay on him, but all he had the strength to do was pull his hands up to Cas' head and bring his mouth down harder onto his.
This wasn't like any other kiss that Dean had before; it was clumsy, like a first kiss in the back of a car, but it was hot, all teeth and pressure, and soft mewls of encouragement. It was sin and heaven and home, and damn, it was just hot.
And then, the warmth was gone. A heavy puff of air escaped his mouth as he greedily sucked in air, feeling a little woozy from it all, and then he looked up, and he found he couldn't breathe again.
Cas looked like he wanted to cry, like he would rather be getting ass reamed in heaven or something than face Dean after what just transpired.
Dean's face softened at that, he let a small smile to slide onto his face. He just made out with a fucking angel, and as much as he wanted to just fucking go crazy from the thought of it, all he seemed capable of was smiling at the rumbled appearance of the angel before him. Dean took in the swollen lips, the lust captured in the gaze, and the wild look on his face, caught between wanting to run away and wanting to do that again.
"Dean, I…" Cas began to explain desperately, his eyes glazing over slightly as he choked on his words, but Dean was having enough of this train wreck. Dean decided there were much better things that Cas could be doing with his fucking mouth than coming up with bullshit excuses, so he slammed his body flush against Cas', repaying the angel for the previous kiss, trying to convey in one act that everything was just a-fucking-oh-kay.
Dean plunged his tongue into Cas', the two of them battling for dominance. Since when did Cas become a good kisser? Why the fuck does he even care, Dean thought more importantly, as his hands ghosted down the angel's chest.
Was he moving too fast? Were they gonna get struck down by lightening? Were they just gonna pretend that nothing happened after this? So many questions pumped through Dean's head, his skull practically cracking under the pressure, until he felt a soft, small hand wrap around his bicep, ghosting over the scar that he had earned from the person currently fucking his mouth right now.
And he knew that this was alright. Fucking crazy, hard as hell to explain to Sammy and Bobby, and probably breaking a hundred Heaven rules, but Dean be damned, it felt right, and if Cas was speaking truth in the car earlier, he deserved salvation, and by god, he deserved this.
Fin.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed my first Supernatural fic. I certainly do love this ship, so I hope I was able to convey the characters decently! Constructive criticism is definitely welcome, so give me a shout!
Don't forget to R&R!
Love,
Rosie