Every couple argued, as far as Castiel knew. Even on the sitcoms on TV and, from what he observed, though not a romantic couple, Sam and Dean. But he doubted they were as violent as Meg and his.

They would usually start from the wrong words during sexual intercourse to an outside influence that rubbed them the wrong way, and from quite possibly having to have been trapped in the Letter's HQ.

Their fights would range from quick flurries of anger to physical violence, to objects being thrown and words being speared.

It seemed like it only started to happen when Meg and Cas finally decided to acknowledge their relationship, and when the sex turned to angry fights he doubted he should have chosen her.

Not because she was a demon, of course, but because she was a bloody killing machine and had stabbed him once in the leg with his sword, a wound that took several hours to heal.

Sometimes he wondered if he should have taken everyone's advice when he entered hoath to have chosen someone else.

And now here he was, angry, tired, and frustrated when Meg kicked him out of the spare room at the "Hall of Letters" (which was also referred to as Cas's room since Dean originally intended it for guests, forgetting that only he, Sam, Cas, and Meg knew the location of it), and left him sitting out in the hallway.

"She kick you out again?" Sam asked as he passed where Cas sat cross-legged on the floor.

"Is it that obvious, Sam?" he didn't mean to be curt with the younger Winchester, but dealing with Meg had left him in a foul mood. "She's having another… 'episode'."

"Did you apologize?"

"I wont apologize for something that wasn't my fault."

"Then your candy-ass is going to sit on that floor for a long time!" Meg voice hissed from behind the door.

"Sucks for you," Sam spun on his heel, enjoying Castiel's predicament. It was another thing that irritated him about being there; Sam and Dean took out way too much satisfaction in watching Castiel deal with Meg, and were never very helpful on the subject of what to do with her.

"Meg, this is childish," Castiel growled at the doorline, trying to peer in and see if the demon was near the door.

"So now you're calling me childish?"

"I SAID WHAT YOU'RE DOING IS CHILDISH."
"FOR AN ANGEL OF THE FUCKING LORD YOU CAN BE DAMN CHILDISH."

It was more than he could take, and with a push of power he broke open the door, his face in a perfect copy of her scowl.

"This needs to end."

"Gladly," Meg glared as she stood up from the bed, getting ready to push past him. "'Cause I'm about done dealing with your-"

"Enough," his voice echoed as he threw her against the wall, bracing her with a single arm. "You need to stop."

"If my damn 'boyfriend' wasn't such a bitch, maybe I would."

"You're…the bitch," the words felt foreign in his mouth, but he kept his tone. "Now stop."

"Make me."

It was the invitation he needed. He kept the distance for a short while, and then slowly he pulled in closer. When she was about to protest, he kissed her hard, silencing her for the moment and tasting the sulfur that lined her mouth.

It wasn't long until she pushed against the wall, knocking him backwards on the bed and murmured for him to undress her.

—

When they undressed each other the sex flowed like a river, Castiel understanding what she meant when she called him a bitch, and taking the lead.

He sucked hard at her neck and felt tingles of pleasurable pain as she dug her acrylic nails into his shoulders, tiny rivers of blood danced how his skin as she clawed his arms.

She always had a thing for her neck.

When he pulled into her he felt her legs wrap around his caves, rolling her head back and biting her bottom lip as he dragged down to her collar bones.

It wasn't often she let him take so much control, but when she did she found the angel had learned more than she bargained for when he took her on.

Even though she could sense he was still angry he was gentle with her, probably the perks of fucking an angel, and when he pleased her he found other ways to induce the euphoria he gave her.

"God damn it, Cas," she hissed as he rocked into her, the jabs sending waves of joy though her.

"Hmm?"

"I don't even remember why I was pissed," she sighed as he hit the right spot for her, his heavy hands grabbing her hips for more support. "We should do this every time we fight."

"Then we'd solve nothing," Castiel breathed into her chest. "This was a way to solve out current problem. However," he caressed a nipple to hear a sharp, satisfied shriek, " if this problem continues to persist in the future, then I agree."

"Good enough."

When he climaxed into her she shoved him off, her arms bruised and her legs sore from Castiel's initiative that she almost gave him a round of applause.

Castiel had rolled over onto his stomach as usual, not expecting her to return his favor but none the less proud that he managed to beat her at her usual game.

"You're finished?"

"Tired," one word answers was his after sex custom, and as much as Meg hated it when the angel decided he was done with her and rolled off, she herself was spent from his go and found it hard to even move.

"Least you could do is not be a fucking stranger after you just stuck your giant ass cock into me."

He got her hint, and he slowly scooted towards her she slipped in under his up-turned arm.

"You never wanted this before," he commented.

"Let's just say after you get out of 'fuck or fuck' mode, you're a bit more fun to hang around with."

Ignoring his demon's insults he rolled onto his side to hold her, resting his chin on her shoulder and took in the sulfur/cinnamon scent she seemed to always have, as well as the angelic smell he seemed to rub off on her after they have sex, and somehow he fell asleep.

—

"Are they still in there?"

"Sam just pretend the shower's broken and that there isn't an angel of the Lord fucking a demon in there," Dean growled as he greased a pan. Ever since they discovered the hidden Letter's hideout had a full kitchen, Dean had oddly taken on the role of chief, and much to Sam's delight (since Dean was actually a goodcook and knew how to make pretty damn good dishes), the maid. Not that Sam didn't carry his own weight around, though, but Dean wasn't as sloppy or lazy as he used to be.

He guessed forty years of hell and a year with a depressed Cas and a Southern vampire could do that to people.

"It's weird how…couple-ly they are," Sam said as he graciously took the omelet Dean had just finished making. "It's like their-"

"Mulder and Scully after the movies? Every Picard and Crusher scene ever?"

"Worse."

When the sound of the Letter's shower finally died, and when Meg and Cas finally stopped banging into walls making out with each other and finally fell into their room, Sam sullenly grabbed a towel and slumped to the bathroom.

"Use the bleach," Dean called as he flipped another omelet, fighting the urge to throw up as repeated banging against the wall made him shudder.

But at they weren't fighting. For now at least.