Hey guys. So, a few days after I put TIRO on hiatus, I had my entire music library on shuffle. One of my OOOLLLD songs, like 2000's old, came on and I thought, 'OMG it's Dean and Cas.' So this fic came out of that. Hopefully I didn't make Cas seem OOC, but hey, I'm just into S6! And I'm STILL calming down from Soulless Sam! But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy. Let me know what you all think of it.
Update: So as someone KINDLY pointed out, you can't put fucking song lyrics in a fic, even if you change the words. So, a giant "F*** YOU!" to that person, since they, in a roundabout way threatened to report my fucking SONGFIC, so if you guys want to to know what the ever loving hell Cas is talking about, listen to Josh Turner's "Long Black Train." And for anyone who has already put this fic as a favorite or follow, I'm EXTREMELY sorry that this had to happen because of pure bullshit.
LISTEN TO JOSH TURNER'S 'LONG BLACK TRAIN' AS YOU READ
He took a drink of the whiskey he was nursing, barely paying any mind to the sports game being shown on the television in the corner above the bar. The bartender was wiping down the wood bar top, having given up on convincing Castiel of his courting techniques about five minutes and thirty-four seconds ago.
'Flirting', as Dean would say, he thought with a barely there smile, taking another drink.
Thinking of the elder Winchester brother sent a shiver of something down his spine, he wasn't sure what yet, but it worried and thrilled him.
I wonder if Dean ever feels it, too, his lips pressed together.
Castiel had flown to Georgia to get away from everything trying to get his attention for a few hours. Nothing particularly important was going on. Lucifer and Michael had been sent to Hell, there were no demons that needed exorcising, and Dean was with the human woman Lisa and her son, Ben.
He had checked on Dean occasionally without Dean's knowledge, becoming invisible to the human eye and just following Dean around. It was amazing how much Ben was like Dean with his personality, though he knew Ben was not Dean's child. He had rebuilt Dean's body, and he knew the man hadn't fathered any children.
And Dean was still a Hunter at heart, the devils trap under the doormat and salt lined windows being proof of that. But what had sent a surprisingly sharp feeling of sadness through Castiel's being was seeing that Dean no longer drove the Impala or wore his leather jacket, but instead a clunky truck and a tan canvas thing.
He sighed through his nose, signaling for another glass. His highly sensitive ears picked up the strange sound of metal clacking against metal, and raised his clear, blue eyes to find the source. But there are no train tracks in the area around this building. Suddenly a guitar was struck, and he realized it was part of a song playing from the speakers. He took a sip of the whiskey, the burn warming his throat as he heard a man with a deep voice and a heavy country accent begin to sing.
LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC
It was strange, he knew the man was singing about a train, but Castiel couldn't help but to think of the Impala. Maybe the alcohol was starting to affect his logic?
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Castiel paused. He had heard many females say that his vessel's eyes were blue like the sky, and the song had mentioned looking to Heaven and having Redemption stare back. He was an Angel of the Lord, and sometimes after a particularly emotionally straining hunt, he would find Dean looking at him like he was begging for forgiveness, for…redemption.
No, I'm reading too much into the symbolism, ironic as it may be. He shook his head, feeling a bit light-headed.
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Well, Dean surely blasphemes quite a bit, so clinging to his Father's name is easy. And Dean always comes out victorious from every encounter with a monster or some other forsaken creature that would be unable to enter his Father's Realm.
"Maybe the alcohol is starting to affect me." He mumbles to no one in particular.
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He couldn't stop himself from remembering the one most, dare he say it, erotic moments he had caught Dean in. Hardly anything to become a blushing teenager about, but it had still affected him.
It was a pleasant day, not chilly, but not hot either, the perfect temperature for relaxing. And that's exactly what Dean was doing, relaxing against the hood of the Impala on one of his 'drives'. It was almost eight miles from the town Dean and Sam were staying, and Dean had pulled off of the highway behind some trees. Castiel had seen the black of the Impala against the green of the grass, and landed to the side of Dean. What he hadn't been expecting was to find Dean shirtless, with his eyes closed, leaning back to lie on the hood of his beloved car, broad shoulders and muscles on full display, with jeans unbuttoned and zipper pulled down, but still very much clinging to his hips. He had held back his expression of surprise, merely keeping the 'stony angel' face.
"Dean." The man had flinched and opened one eye, but otherwise didn't move.
"Yeah, Cas?" There it was, that nickname that he would never be able to ignore, the one that he always flew to when it was laced with worry or very rarely, fear. Dean had no problem with how he was displaying himself to the Angel, didn't know he was practically showing his youth and strength to him. Dean closed that one bright leaf-in-the-sunlight green eye, and Castiel allowed his eyes to roam over Dean's body.
"Your brother seems to have located the coven of witches that have been causing issues. He requests that you return to discuss a plan." He swallowed thickly at the end of the sentence, the reason being that Dean decided that that moment was the perfect one to heave himself forward, muscles bunching and rippling with the action, to sit on the edge of the hood with his hands behind him.
"Yeah, okay. Tell him it'll be about half an hour before I get back, would ya?" Castiel flew away at that moment. If he stayed any longer than necessary, his irrational instinct to kiss the man before him and let the hunter do as he wished with him might take over.
Is the ride worth the pain indeed? Castiel never moved from his stool, but his wings twitched behind him.
LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC
Yes, there is victory. But not without sacrifice. The thought of knowing that Sam had been trapped in hell, and somehow brought back, worried him. But he had been brought back as well, which worried him further.
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He could always hear when Dean called for him, even when he didn't want to hear him. And the Impala did make people stare, even after they had been driving for days and it was covered in dust and crushed bugs. And he hates to admit it, but there were times when he would simply fly beside the Impala, enjoying the breeze and the feeling of not having to rush anywhere.
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Castiel manifested a few strips of green paper and laid them on the bar next to his empty glass. He knew he had had too much alcohol, and it was better to stop while he still had a little logic left to him. The bartender winked at him as he rose from his stool, knowing that he was drunk, but left Castiel alone nonetheless.
LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC-LYRIC
He watched from across the road as Castiel left the bar, just drunk enough to do something utterly embarrassing (maybe including pouncing on his man, a.k.a. Dean), yet still sober enough that he can make the right decision without regret.
Gabriel smirked, popping a lemon drop into his mouth, feeling absolutely proud of himself. Hopefully his 'ironic' music choice gave little Cassie a nudge in the right direction. He spread his wings behind him, beating them to get to his next destination.
Now it's time for Operation: Sasquatch Stalk.