AUTHOR'S NOTE : This is written as requested by soot, who wanted Dean and Castiel smexing in the Vatican! ;D
Please note, then, that if you're offended by possible blasphemy (on my part) for having Dean and Castiel enjoying quality time on the balcomy of the Papal Palace, then it's best not to read further! ;D
Castiel stared up at the ceiling, eyes as large as transfixed saucers, gaze skimming appreciatively over the frescoes and murals painted in still vivid colors on the ceiling. He smiled at the small angels, the people, the depictions of the creation of light, stars and planets and of Adam. He shook his head over the intricate paintings, wondered how such beauty originally sprung from the mind of one man.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, gruff voice sounding ominous in the chapel, eyes still huge as his gaze tracked to another part of the ceiling.
"Yeah, I guess so," Dean replied beside him, not quite as impressed by the beauty as the angel was.
His mind was too distracted by the hunt still ahead, rather than what the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel looked like. There would be time for sight seeing later; now was the time for getting the Colt back. He sighed, lips pressed together as he scanned the crowd surrounding them, wondered where his brother was in amongst the thronging people. He caught sight of Sam eventually; tall, dark haired head towering over the majority of people, as a loud conversation took place nearby. Dean couldn't understand a word, tried to track the rapid fire exchange of unfamiliar Italian words and quickly gave up. It sounded as though the people were arguing, judging by the volume of the words, and the gestures exchanged.
He quickly walked away, a little cautious over being dragged into something he didn't want to be involved in, grabbing onto Castiel's hand and dragging him in his wake. Castiel stopped staring at Michaelangelo's frescoes long enough to watch where he was going, intense gaze fixed permanently on Dean, even when they stopped in front of Sam.
"Seen her yet, Sammy?" Dean asked, gaze flickering over the people surrounding him, hearing the distinct drawl of Spanish visitors nearby, French, English, pilgrims all of them.
The amount of people was making it all the harder to find Meg, to get the Colt back from her and send her back to Hell once and for all. He didn't know how likely the last part of the plan was; after all the skank kept coming back, time and time again. All he cared about right then, was to at least get the Colt back, useless though it was against Lucifer. The gun had other uses, and was a valuable asset to have, just in case.
"No, not yet," Sam groused in response to Dean's earlier question. "I can't believe you let her steal the Colt from under your nose, Dean."
"That would be my fault, Sam," Castiel said, immediately. "I was kissing Dean at the time."
"Yeah, well, I still can't believe you let her take it," Sam said, turning away to scan the crowds from his higher vantage point.
His gaze locked and held with someone unseen across the room, body stiffening with tension, looking ready to spring, to attack as he stared across the room to the doorway.
"She's there, in the doorway! Quick," Sam hissed, already moving through the sea of people, squeezing past with muttered apologies and excuses.
Castiel and Dean followed him, closely, keeping guard against possible attack from other quarters, eyes alert, bodies tense, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. They broke through the crowds eventually, spilled from the door to follow Meg's progress into St Peter's Square, finally accosting her after much dodging through crowds of tourists and small children against the base of an Egyptian obelisk, towering over them all, casting long shadows over the ground from the bright sun over head.
Dean slammed Meg back into the obelisk's hard surface, angry scowl mere inches from her face, snarl growing deeper when Meg laughed openly at him, obviously enjoying the rough treatment.
"Where's the Colt, bitch?" Den snarled, flinching slightly when Castiel laid a warning hand upon his shoulder, telling him silently to ease off a little.
Despite his anger, Dean heeded the angel's unspoken warning; they were, after all, in a public place, and unwarranted displays of violence would, no doubt, draw unwanted attention.
"Ease off, Dean, you don't want to damage my packaging again, or do you? I'm kinda attached to this one," Meg purred, still smiling up at him, unfazed by being pinned, rendered helpless by an angry hunter.
"Just tell me where the Colt is," Dean snarled, shaking her surreptitiously without drawing attention from the French students milling nearby.
"More importantly, why did you take it? It's useless against Lucifer, if that's what you want to use it for," Sam interjected, sounding calmer than Dean looked. "We tried that already."
Castiel remained silent, blue eyed gaze intent on Meg's face, ready to step in and help Dean if things got messy.
"Blah blah blah, like it will make any difference to you why I had to take it," Meg said, with a roll of her dark eyes at Dean's intense scowl.
"It's gonna mean the difference between life and death to some poor bastard," Dean grated out, voice pitched low as though imparting the greatest of secrets to the demon pinned before him. "We've chased you halfway across the planet to get the damn Colt back, so the least you can do is tell us why you even have it."
"Oh, yeah, we're in the Vatican! How was the flight anyway? Come by angel airways?" Meg asked, dark gaze flickering over Dean's shoulder to meet the gaze of Castiel.
"As a matter of fact, they did," Castiel replied, face expressionless, tone just as empty as his face. "I may be barred from my powers, but I still can fly and transport others."
"You're a feathered freak, Castiel," Meg spat at him, brows pulled down over dark eyes and spitting anger in sparks beneath the sun.
"That's enough," Sam said, sharply, face just as dark, just as angry as Dean's, more emotional than Castiel's currently was.
The sharp sound of a blade being drawn cut through the air, sliding between Dean and Meg's bodies, before the knife that had once belonged to Ruby was held at Meg's delicate throat.
"Spill it, bitch," Dean said, a triumphant smirk lighting his face and making his eyes sparkle in the borrowed light from the sun overhead.
He pressed the blade still firmer into Meg's skin, the demon's dark eyes growing wide with recognition of her own fallibility. She sighed, relaxed against Dean's body in submission, before she nodded slowly, careful not to press too solidly against the keen blade held at her throat.
"Crowley's here," she said, admission making her words ring clear.
"What the hell's Crowley got to do with anything?" Sam asked, before Dean could and Castiel shifted on silent feet, hands pushed deep within the pockets of his tan coat, face as serene and expressionless as ever.
"He's sealing a deal with some poor bastard needing a helping hand with their lives. I am here just to make sure he doesn't seal any more deals ever again," she said, eyes flickering from Dean's face, to Sam's, then to Castiel's. "He sent you to kill Lucifer, didn't he? He tried to stop us all from ascending to Heaven, to gain everything denied us, or at least Lucifer."
"You still don't believe that crap, do you? Lucifer lied to you. You ain't going nowhere near Heaven. As soon as Lucifer's decimated humans, he's gonna start on you," Dean told her, spitting the words venomously into her face, smiling as he did so.
"You're lying," Meg said, voice pitched somewhere between arrogance and terror. "That's what Crowley led you to believe isn't it? Lucifer would never lie to us."
"That's what he does, Meg. He lies, he plays on your sympathies, then takes everything back, takes it all away from you, even the things you thought he wouldn't," Castiel said, speaking for the first time since the fight had started.
"And you would know this, right? Seeing as you were bed buddies with Lucifer in Heaven?" Meg shot over Dean's shoulder at the angel.
"Not quite, Meg," Castiel replied, voice cool, expressionless, with the vaguest hint of true anger displayed deep beneath his words.
"Hit a nerve, didn't I?" Meg shot back.
"Enough," Sam said, sharply. "Just give us the Colt, Meg."
"And then what? You'll still kill me. Either way, I'm dead meat the way you paint it," Meg said, with a sigh. "Here take it, if it means so much to you."
She drew the Colt from out of the waistband of her pants, where it had lain previously hidden beneath her leather jacket, pressing the end of the barrel against Dean's shoulder. She grinned, flinched slightly when a shot rang out, muffled by the droning sound of an aeroplane suddenly zooming overhead, coupled with the sounds of children screaming and laughing in play nearby, before easing herself away from Dean's rigid body. He staggered back, one hand clamped over his bleeding shoulder, shock apparent in a suddenly too pale face. Castiel came forward, face stormy, hand outstretched as he reached for Meg blindly.
She laughed in the angel's face, before she said - "You tried that one on me before, don't you remember? It didn't work then, and it won't work now. See ya!"
In the blink of an eye, she'd managed to disappear, body writhing between milling bodies, seemingly oblivious to all that had transpired right in front of them. Dean was sitting at the base of the obelisk, face drained of blood, sweating slightly against the pain in his shoulder, and Sam was checking his wound, murmuring that Dean was lucky that the bullet had passed through cleanly without leaving much damage in its wake.
Castiel leant over the fallen hunter, one hand resting on Dean's shoulder as he shielded his lover from view of passers-by, expression growing ever more intense, as his dark brows pulled over his eyes in concentration. Dean murmured in pain, shifting uncomfortably beneath Castiel's hand, twisting away from him when the pain seemed to grow too much for him.
"Dean, hold still," Castiel demanded, gruff voice sharp, commanding, stern, leaving the hunter no choice except to obey, obvious worry and concern held deep within his gaze.
Dean sat quietly, face shut down tight, brows puckered, mouth set in an uneven line as heat poured from Castiel's palm, knitting together muscles, healing wounds, easing Dean's pain with a gentle whoosh of air accompanied by heat. When the angel pulled his hand away, Dean's shoulder was perfect, unmarked, blemish free, no gaping holes to be seen by anyone. Even his t shirt was mended, no holes, no blood, no scorch marks from the gunpowder fired at close range. Castiel straightened, face grim, yet looking oddly pleased with himself that he'd managed to heal Dean at all. He watched as the hunter straightened, sagged against the cool stone behind him, fingers probing his previously wounded shoulder wondrously.
"I thought you couldn't heal people any more, Cas," Sam observed from behind the angel, voice suspicious, dark, weary. "Bobby's legs still need healing, you know."
"I can't do something as big as that, Sam, only small things," Castiel replied, throwing the words over his shoulder without turning to face the younger hunter. "My abilities are very limited these days - you know that."
Sam remained silent at that, watching Castiel, wondering if it was who was hurt rather than what was hurt in Dean's case.
"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, at least sounding more grateful than his brother right then.
Castiel nodded, dark head bobbing in the sun, as the older Winchester glanced up at Sam wearily. The remnants of remembered pain still were settled deep in Dean's face, but at least he was healed. Sam grunted, but didn't say anything to the angel, nor did Castiel expect anything from him.
At Dean's unspoken question, Sam held the Colt up, shielded from general view by his own body, gaze flickering from crowd to crowd, all too mindful of prying eyes to flaunt their business openly.
"Good. At least we have the Colt," Dean sighed as he leant back against the obelisk behind him.
He shifted, turned his head and looked up towards the Apostolic Palace, at the balcony where the Pope usually stood to deliver messages to the people. He smiled impishly to himself, was barely aware of Sam speaking to Castiel, asking the angel if he could send them back, away from Rome, and back to their motel room in the US.
Castiel nodded wordlessly, had already pressed his hand to the younger Winchester's forehead, sending Sam away by the time Dean turned back. He waved Castiel's hand away before the angel could press his palm solidly against Dean's forehead, grin growing stronger by the second.
"You don't think you could spare us a few minutes up there, could you?" Dean asked, gesturing towards the balcony with one hand.
"The balcony?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side as he regarded the hunter with confusion.
"I just want to - admire the view, Cas," Dean replied, with a slow wink at the angel. "While Sam's not around."
Castiel chuckled, and surprisingly acquiesced, pressed his hand against the hunter's forehead. Dean felt bright white light wash over him, blinding him for the briefest of instants before he blinked back into the world once more, high up and nearer to the sky than he had been mere moments before. He stretched, hands pressed together above his head, and wondered if he'd still poop in the morning. He decided that in the face of what he hoped would happen soon, his toileting habits would soon become irrelevant.
The wind ruffled against Dean's hair, lifting strands separately and in clumps, warm air moving across his skin and tickling against his eyelashes, setting them to fluttering almost closed. He felt Castiel join him, comforting presence surrounding him, before the angel properly arrived, arms slipping around Dean's waist securely. Dean leant back into him, one hand still resting on the balcony in front of his body, the other laced through Castiel's fingers gently, as he twisted his head just enough to press a kiss against Castiel's soft, sweet mouth.
He became lost in that kiss, cast adrift on ever shifting emotions, red-hot-white-yellow feelings of bliss, desire, lust, love coiling through him, all directed towards the being he was now kissing hungrily, lips meeting and parting noisily against the warm breeze in shifting patterns. Dean moaned into Castiel's open mouth, felt the angel's tongue thick and heavy licking against his own, tasting of sweetness, purity, light and strangely, cinnamon, turning Dean on still further.
He turned, felt Castiel's hands caressing his ass gently, dick pressing firmly against his own as the angel pressed his body still further into his insistently. Dean didn't protest when Castiel all but wrestled him to the ground, legs entwining and murmurs of encouragement whispered and groaned against each other's lips, kisses wet, sloppy, hot, tongues meeting in mid air, as they broke apart momentarily.
Dean arched his back up into Castiel's body, needed friction between their bodies, started rutting against the angel's leg desperately, breath gasping out in rasping rills against Castiel's cheek as he dry humped Castiel's leg. Castiel stopped him, hand resting against Dean's hip, fingers bunched tight against the hunter's belt, before slender fingers undid the buckle quickly. Dean stared blindly up at the bright sky hanging seemingly close over their heads, angled his ass high up off the floor of the balcony, legs twisting to help Castiel pull his jeans, his boxers free from sturdy hips. Warm air played across exposed skin, slapped against the straining erection, made him shudder as he almost imagined Castiel's mouth wrapped tight around Dean's dick and pleasuring him.
He murmured, eyes drifting over fluffy clouds overhead, tried to make sense of myriad patterns thrown in sharp relief against the bright blue sky, could almost make out the shape of a flying angel in fluffy white abandonment against the sky. His vision was obscured once more by the sight of Castiel's aroused face sliding into view, angelic vessel naked, eager, hard and all for Dean. Dean angled his hips, his legs wide and strained into Castiel's body when the angel covered him with his own, weight bearing down upon him comfortingly. Dean gasped, breath catching in his throat as the angel started rutting against him helplessly, mewls of arousal working past his lips, constricted throat before he pulled away once more.
Dean felt Castiel stroke against his hole, slender fingers probing him, breaching him, making him squirm against the intrusion. Castiel pulled away, and Dean felt him fiddling with something, the sounds of lube being squirted soon reaching the hunter's impatient ears. Dean waited, felt the press and burn of Castiel's fingers breaching him once more, stretching him, loosening him, widening him until Castiel deemed him prepared, ready to take Castiel's dick willingly.
Dean waited once more, felt Castiel cover his body again, dick pressing insistently against his hole, before the angel thrust into him, breaching him with an aroused shout of pleasure, waiting for the shift, the burn, the pain of near rejection, the settling out of tense muscles to fade, to recede into blissed out memories.
Castiel looked down upon Dean's face, eyes distant, clouded with lust as the angel filled him, started to move inside him, stroke his prostate languidly with every thrust, skin rubbing, slapping together in uneven rhythms and cadences of pleasure. Castiel thrust harder, faster, more insistent when Dean begged him to fuck into him harder, hips pounding against his, short sharp cries of aroused exertion breaking the air between them.
Castiel couldn't last long, orgasm racing through him to claim every last part of his being until he filled Dean up with his come, yet still he pounded into Dean, riding out the aftershocks of his climax as Dean touched himself, hand rubbing over his erection until the sticky hot splash of his release covered his hand, Castiel's skin in thick strands. The hunter screamed for Castiel, shouted he loved him as he orgasmed, eyes drifting closed as his mouth stretched wide upon release.
Castiel's hips slowed to a gentle stop, dick remaining sheathed in Dean's ass as he rested his forehead against the hunter's shoulder, breath catching in his dry throat as he came down from bliss soaked highs, felt Dean's arms surround him in a loving, grateful embrace. They remained silent, feeling no need for words, as voicing their thoughts and feelings aloud would only break the perfection of the moment, would shatter the perfection, the strength of their love.
Finally, Castiel eased his softening member from Dean's ass, laid beside the hunter, face upturned to the sky and watching similar clouds drift by that Dean had observed some time before. His blue eyes reflected the sky, seemed to grow steadily brighter, more blue, as though their shining surfaces were draining the sky of all color and claiming it for his own. Dean watched him, transfixed, in awe of the beauty, the perfection of the angel that had chosen to lay with him, that loved him, who was loved in return.
The hunter leant forward, kissed Castiel gently, noisily, hands caressing and pawing at the angel's slim body, legs wrapping together once more. The sound of a cell phone ringing nearby broke into their private moment, made Dean groan and lean his forehead helplessly against Castiel's naked chest.
"Sam," they chorused, matching groans of frustration mingling at Sam's imperfect timing.
"We'd best go, or we'll never hear the end of it," Dean sighed, sitting up to drag his jeans firmly into place around his sturdy hips, pulled his scuffed boots on next. He was still dressing laboriously when he looked up, saw Castiel standing over him, perfectly dressed in his clothes once more. Dean shook his head at the angel, but didn't reply when Castiel tilted his head in a questioning glance at Dean's sudden mirth.
Castiel smiled himself, hands clasped easily behind his back as he waited for Dean to finish dressing, eyes watching every easy movement the hunter made with his clothes. Dean flushed slightly beneath Castiel's close, attentive scrutiny, making his freckles stand out against his cheeks as he turned away.
"What?" he asked, but didn't get a response, other than a firm hand pressed to his forehead.
"Oh good, I was wondering where you two had gotten to," came Sam's voice next, speaking loud in Dean's ear, making him scowl and land a hefty thump in Sam's abdomen.
Air whooshed from his brother's mouth as he doubled over, making Castiel smile when he turned up a few seconds later, looking as unruffled and calm as ever.
"I think you caught the sun, Cas," Dean suddenly said, eyes travelling over the angel's still pale cheeks. "Looks good on you."
"We weren't in Rome that long, Dean. I don't think he had the time to sunbathe, considering," Sam observed, from where he still stood, hands propped securely on his knees.
"I wonder if that cardinal has stopped screaming yet?" Castiel said, face brightening with an amused expression as he thought back over their time in Rome.
"What cardinal? What did you do?" Sam asked, straightening to cast a suspicious look at first the angel, then his brother.
"I don't know, what cardinal, Cas?" Dean asked, turning an equally confused expression onto his lover.
"In the Apostolic Palace, I walked into a cardinal. He screamed and shielded his eyes," Castiel said, with a shrug. "I think he knew I was an angel somehow. I think I scared him."
"The - where? The Apostolic Palace? Dude, tell me you didn't go in the Pope's own palace? You do realize the Pope lives there, don't you?" Sam asked, turning Dean to face him.
Dean gave him a smug smile, before he said - "I don't think I'll look at his balcony in quite the same light again, Sam."
Sam covered his face with his hands, groaning in loud dejection, making even Castiel laugh, blue eyes sparkling in the light from outside.
"Can I pretend I don't know you two, in the future?" Sam asked, from the safety of his own hands.
"Admit it, Sammy, you love us," Dean stated, throwing his arm around his brother's drooping shoulders affectionately. "That's why you put up with us."
"I don't know how I could otherwise," Sam groused, throwing both Castiel and Dean a bitch faced look of doom and adding to the laughter.
"C'mon, lets get some food. How d'you feel about pizza? Pasta?" Dean asked, lips quirking into a playful smile.
"How about not? I want a big greasy burger," Sam stated, walking away from his brother and huffing to himself with mock indignation.
"Fine, we'll get a burger," Dean replied, following his brother with an eye roll of long suffering patience at Castiel. "Bitch."
"Jerk," Sam immediately replied, throwing the word over his shoulder from outside the motel room.
The angel chuckled, before following the still bickering brothers from the motel room, hand folded securely around Dean's, happiness settling through his body, a content smile curling his lips as he watched Dean closely. He purred in approval when Dean leant in to claim a kiss from responsive lips, before the hunter pulled away to resume his good natured bickering with his brother.
Castiel nodded to himself in satisfaction, smiled, content to follow Dean for now, listening, observing just as he always did ....
-fini-