A/N: I'm starting another fanfic, yay! Although, since it's just a collection of oneshots, I'm not sure that this really qualifies. Oh well.
In this exciting tale, Castiel and Dean find themselves coming out of the closet in a more literal sense than we would like.
There wasn't supposed to be complicated things during a ghost hunt, Dean thought, somewhat angrily. Ghosts hunts were simple, find the bones, salt and burn, easy. You weren't supposed to get yourself locked in a tiny, tiny supply closet. Especially not with another man.
Especially if that man was Castiel, angel of the Lord.
It had happened anyway, although in Dean's defence, he hadn't had much choice. Ghosts were powerful when they were pissed off, and when the Winchesters and Cas had come storming in with their salt, spoiling the grounds he had died on, of course the spirit got mad. When he was alive, this house had been his pride and joy. Now, the house was old and abandoned, but the spirit of it's previous owner hadn't left.
He had trapped them in a closet.
Dean and Cas were pressed uncomfortably closed, facing each other. Dean could feel Castiel's breath, hot and steady, against his own skin and he could feel his friend's body heat. Cas, for the most part, seemed just as uncomfortable as Dean, but neither of them could move away from the close proximity. The closet was too damn small.
"Cas," said Dean, lowering his voice so as not to seem too loud for the angel right beside him.
"What?"
"We have to get out of here."
Cas paused. He, of course, didn't disagree, but he didn't know how they were going to accomplish that. "How?"
Dean thought. "If…" he stopped. Whatever he was thinking, it either wasn't going to work or Dean was too uncomfortable in voicing it. Cas knew Dean, and from his voice he could tell it was the latter.
"Dean…" he said, warning his friend.
"If we sort of… get closer and then I can kick the door out. Maybe. If you're okay with that." Dean sounded very awkward, and Cas didn't really know why. Yes, it sure wasn't pleasurable, but Dean had been in worse situations, surely?
Cas stepped closer to Dean, so close that their chests were pretty much pressed together, and Cas could feel Dean swallowing as he did so. "Okay," Dean muttered.
"I think I should assist in stabilizing you, Dean," Cas said. There was so little space that they needed something.
"How?" Dean asked, and without uttering a word Cas answered.
He wrapped his arms around Dean, in the strangest hug imaginable. Cas's face was close to Dean's shoulder, and he nestled his head into it a bit, aware but not thinking about the fact that Dean smelled interesting. Like coffee and soap and aftershave.
"Cas…" Dean started, shifting slightly in Cas's grip.
"What?" Cas questioned. If he thought it was a bad idea…
"Nothing. Just… hold on." Dean paused, then tensed up. His foot flashed out and Cas felt the reverberation as Dean's foot struck the door and it rattled in the hinge. Cas's own head had bumped rather unpleasantly into Dean's shoulder, but the angel didn't say anything. He'd never been this close to Dean before, not in this vessel.
"I'm going to have to do it again," Dean said, as if Cas couldn't already tell that.
"I know," Cas told him, voice muffled by Dean's shirt.
"Right…" Dean kicked out again, and a small, slight sliver of light filtered in through the door. Dean sighed, and Cas could feel his shoulders moving up as he did so.
"One more time," Dean said, and kicked again. Another unpleasant bump against Dean's shoulder, but this time, the door opened wide enough for the two men to squeeze out.
They did so without a moment's hesitation, and once they got out, stared at each other.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"Let's try not to do that again."
"Agreed."
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