AN: This is where I'll be posting my bite-sized (e.g. comment ficlets, drabbles and things that don't quite fit anywhere else) Supernatural fic. On fanfiction-dot-net at least. These are all one shots, unless otherwise noted.
This was written for a prompt on Livejournal's comment-fic community. The prompt was: author's choice, "watching you watching me." Crossposted to my Tumblr and Archive of Our Own.
The Call
It began with porn. (According to Dean, many things do.) Castiel had been watching humans since their beginning, interested in the progress of his Father's creations - their great inventions, great losses, greater wars - amused and enthralled by their desire to reach for things they could never hope to achieve. But he had never paid much attention to the individuals, the minutiae of any one person's life.
Until Dean.
And the porn.
It was…fascinating to observe human mating practices. The varied formations of bodies, the many ways in which they interlocked and the often confusing positions . Though he had been told—by Sam, who had taken him aside after a particularly inquisitive bout of questioning that had seen Dean leaving the room in a hurry, his face a truly impressive shade of red (Castiel hadn't known a human could be that color)—that many of the acts shown in porn were more of an exaggerated facsimile of what actually went on between humans.
He had briefly considered observing some individuals in private, but then Dean had been kidnapped by a coven of Druidic witches and he'd dismissed it.
Until tonight. Until the call. It was not…like a normal call. Not like a prayer raised in his name. But he felt that unmistakable urge, that tug in his grace that had him disappearing from the top of a glacier in the antarctic and reappearing in a dimly lit motel room, empty except for Dean, who sprawled on a bed, his shirt raked up and his pants open, his eyes closed and his hand around—
Oh. Castiel averted his eyes. But he had always been too curious for his own good and he found himself looking up, watching intently with what Dean would often called his "perv-stalker face" as Dean ran the thumb of his hand over the tip of his phallus, again and again until his breath came out in a low, vibrating hiss. "Cas."
And that startled Castiel out of his quiet, urged him forward until he stood next to the bed and Dean who, seeming not at all surprised by the presence of the angel looming over him, opened his eyes and held Castiel's gaze until he groaned and shuddered and his spine arched and Castiel's full name fell from his lips like a prayer or a curse.
