Gabriel's a Perv... But Then, So Is Dean
By CastielLovesDean
Summary: Gabriel uses his Trickster magic to conjure a fake Dean and Castiel, then watch them do it. Dean catches him; chaos ensues. Destiel. Written for Lyanvis for the 175th review of Cas's Logical Suggestion.
Rated M for a reason.
Warning: Like every word I've ever spoken or written, this may (will probably) offend religious readers. You have been warned.
Dean returned to the motel without Sam, who was studying obsessively at the local library. Honestly, what did he do at the library that he couldn't do on the internet? He hoped to put the frustration out of his mind using some old-fashioned pay-per-view, but as he got closer to his door, he heard sounds emanating from within... pay-per-view sounds. "What the Hell?" he mumbled to nobody, inserting the key and turning the knob.
The vision on the other side of the door horrified him, and he shut it quickly, paranoid that someone else might see. An imposter Dean was on one of the beds, sweaty, naked, and entangled with Castiel, who Dean figured was also an imposter. After all, Cas would never let Dean do... that. Imposter!Cas's back arched wantonly as he let out a long, gravelly groan, then hissed Dean's name in such a way that it went straight to Dean's groin.
It took a moment for his brain to reboot, but he eventually regained control of his senses. "What the Hell?" he demanded again, only this time at the Archangel sitting unabashedly in one of the two living chairs, snuggling with a large bucket of popcorn.
Gabriel jumped in his seat and spilled his popcorn. "Dean!" he shouted, as if he were shocked that Dean just walked into his own damn motel room. "What are you doing here?"
"This is my room, Gabriel! What the Hell are you doing here?"
Gabe looked at the scene he created. "What, do you want me to describe it, or-"
"Get. Out," Dean enunciated carefully so there could be no uncertainty whatsoever.
Gabe disappeared with a feathery whoosh. Dean collapsed into the other living chair, exhausted from just two seconds of dealing with Gabriel, but shortly realized that not all was as it should have been. Gabe's popcorn was still there, but – and this is probably much, much more important – the fake Dean and Cas were still going at it on the bed like a couple of teenagers. Dean glanced around cautiously, then approached the pair on the bed.
It was something he'd only ever had the courage to imagine in the dreams of his dreams: himself and his Angel, entwined in a writhing, passionate embrace. He watched them for a while, his jaw slack and pupils dilated.
"See something you like?"
Dean's jaw snapped shut in surprise. He spun to face Gabriel. "How long have you been there?" he cried, humiliated at having been caught watching this display.
Gabriel seemed to consider the answer. "I'd say, 'long enough to know you wanna bone Castiel,' but I've known that for a while."
Dean knew there was no point in denying it, so he just glared at Gabriel, stoic and wrathful as he could manage.
Gabe chuckled through a crooked smile. He pulled the popcorn bucket from behind his back and offered it to Dean. "Popcorn?" When he didn't get a response, he held the bucket higher. "It's hot," he singsonged temptingly.
It did smell good, Dean silently acquiesced. He gave the imposters a sidelong glance and accepted the bucket.
As soon as Dean had it, Gabe popped back into the easy chair a few feet away, slouching lazily against the backrest. "Take a seat," he suggested, waving a casual hand toward the other chair. He stopped paying Dean any attention, turning instead to the two on the bed, still engrossed in their attempt to meld into one being.
Dean did the same halfway to the chair when he heard a groan and a rustle of sheets from the bed. When he turned around to see what was going on, imposter!Cas was astride imposter!Dean, running his hands over imposter!Dean's torso in a decidedly unangelic way. Dean had to bite his cheek to keep from moaning out loud at the sight.
"Is this how you see me?" Castiel's monotonous voice inquired.
That surprised Dean, as he hadn't thought the manifestations were aware of him, but in a blink of an eye, they were gone, and he could finally see the rest of the room. Castiel – the real Castiel, trenchcoat and everything – was standing nearly in front of him, his traditionally confused squint laced with anger. Dean started to backpedal. "Cas, I – this isn't what it looks like."
"I asked you a question, Dean," Cas pointed out, stalking the intimidated Hunter. "Is this how you see me, how you think of me? Naked, licentious, entirely at your disposal for your own personal pleasure? Are you so arrogant that you imagine God himself created an Angel whose sole purpose is to fulfill your baser Human needs?"
"No!" Dean protested, bumping his legs on the chair and falling into it. "I just-"
"Like to watch?" Cas finished his sentence. He placed his hands on either arm of the chair, trapping Dean in his place. "Is that what you are, Dean Winchester? A voyeur?" He leaned in until he could smell Dean's aftershave, then whispered, "You should have said something earlier." He took two steps backward, untied his tie, and tossed it at Dean.
Dean blinked as the tie landed on his head, unable to do anything else while Castiel unbuttoned his shirt. Cas had clearly been watching porn again – not that Dean minded, of course. Dean absently wondered what else Castiel had learned from the Pizza Man.
ACDCACDCACDC
In a poorly-lit corner of a seedy bar (note: not the library), a magical being appeared in a booth where a grumpy giant was clicking away at his laptop. "Did it work?" the giant whispered as he glanced suspiciously about the bar.
"Yeah, check it out." The magical being made an image appear on the table: a live-action scale version of Dean and the giant's motel room. A resounding slap alerted nobody because the bar was empty. "Ow! What the Hell, Sammy, I almost felt that!"
"Then it wasn't hard enough," the giant needlessly continued to whisper. "That's my brother, man!"
"Well, he's not naked or anything; he's just sitting in a chair."
"Oh. Let me see, then."
ACDCACDCACD
Cas finished unbuttoning his shirt quickly, apparently unfamiliar with the slower-is-better approach to stripping, then glanced down at himself confusedly. He slowly fingered the cottony collar of the undershirt he was wearing, apparently unsure how to open it without removing his coat, jacket, and dress shirt. Finally, once Dean was fully in a trance from watching Cas's fingertip swirl about his own tee-shirt, Castiel got a big chunk of the shirt in his hand and pulled, ripping the garment from his frame. He caught Dean's eye, then deliberately held the shirt out to his side and dropped it on the questionable motel floor.
The display of strength was exciting and strangely intimidating for Dean, whose alpha male personality rarely allowed the feeling. Dean broke eye contact with Cas to ogle the Angel's exposed torso. It looked exactly the same as it did the last (and only) time Dean saw it, when he carved an Enochian symbol into it outside an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California. The symbol had scarred over.
Castiel didn't bother to shrug off the three pieces of clothing still clinging to his shoulders; he went straight for his belt. Dean's breath caught in anticipation as Cas slid the belt from its loops and held the thin strip of leather up to inspect it. Dean jumped in his seat when Cas snapped the belt suddenly and it made a painful whipping sound. Cas gave Dean the smuggest look he'd ever seen from this Angel, but dropped the belt to the ground. Dean wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed, and that confused him. All thoughts of the belt flew from his mind when Cas unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. Dean squirmed. This was the point of no return.
"Do you want to see more?" Cas asked. That had to be from a porno.
Dean's tongue was too busy wagging to help him form words, so he settled for a nod. Yes, he wanted to see. He needed to see. He needed to see like he needed to breathe.
Cas looked smug again. Bastard. His hand disappeared into his pants, and emerged moments later firmly gripping his still-mostly-soft penis. Dean couldn't look at it at first while Cas was stroking it to life. "Deeeeean," Cas beckoned. "I thought you wanted to see this."
Dean steeled his nerves and turned his attention to what Cas was doing, getting his first (of many... oh yes, there would be many) look at Castiel's angelhood. It was exactly like Castiel: large enough unless compared directly to Dean or Sam, underestimated, and just itching to be given something to do. When he laid his eyes on it, he noticed it twitch, which made Dean twitch, which made Cas chuckle.
"Dean... you you want to touch it?"
Okay, when did Cas have time to watch all this porn? And where did he get it? Dean nodded.
"Well, you can't," Cas said forcefully. "Not yet. This is just for your eyes."
Dean found his words. "I always figured you for a tease, Cas."
Possibly in response to Dean's accusation, Cas's movements quickened. Cas's eyes slid halfway closed and his breaths increased as he used his other thumb to smear the dripping precome over his sensitive head. He grunted as if he were in pain exactly when pearly fluid spurted from deep within, splatting disturbingly on the floor. After he was done, he panted and stared at Dean. He was still mostly hard. He trailed his eyes to the tenting in Dean's jeans, then back to his face. He grinned mischievously, and Dean figured out where he'd learned this: Gabriel. Bastard had to be good for something, right? Cas held his hand out to Dean. "Your turn," he said, and Dean's body flew to Cas's embrace of its own accord. Cas kissed him without permission (but totally not against his will), then threw him onto the bouncy motel mattress.
ACDCACDCACD
"You can turn that off now."
"Please," the magical being scoffed. "It's just getting good. If you don't wanna watch it, get your own bar."
The giant closed his laptop and walked away, grumbling something about Tricksters, perverts, and jackasses.
A/N: Yay for Cas stripping for Dean! Can I get an AMEN? Okay, seriously, that part was pretty predictable, I know. Still fun, though, hopefully.