Disclaimer : I do not own anything recognisable!
Author's Note : Originally posted at LJ. I decided to post it here too for all the people who prefer to stick to FF :) Also, I'm kinda celebrating - I got my GCSE results today and they ranged from B's to an A*! I'm beyond happy, so free Sassy for everyone! :)
Castiel thinks maybe the Winchesters are made for strenuous labour.
He watches the brothers work on the more salvagable cars in the scarpyard with an untouched bottle of beer in his hand, standing awkwardly a few metres away. The plan had been that they would spend the day researching but they had been locked out of the house by Bobby and ordered to make the most of the suddenly nice weather.
The sun warms the skin of Castiel's skin pleasantly and he supposes he can be glad he's not in the cool house reading instead. Sam and Dean had found themselves unable to sit around doing nothing, and so had gotten to work on one of the old Mustangs they had found in the yard. Dean took one look at Castiel staring blankly at the engine and had pushed him away with some beer.
Castiel isn't quite sure he likes beer. He has sampled much nicer beverages but the brothers seem to like it very much, so he drinks it for their sake.
Sam bends to lift a heavy toolbox, legs straining against the fabric of his jeans, arms smeared with engine oil and vest top plastered against the wide plane of his back. Castiel follows Sam's movements with his eyes, appreciating the fluidity of joints and muscles. Sam may be an abomination, but he is a well built abomination.
"Well, whaddaya know? I always thought you were more of a Dean guy," A voice remarks from his side.
"What are you doing here Gabriel?" Castiel doesn't flinch, unsurprised. Gabriel leans back against the car, taking Castiel's beer from him to down half of it in one long gulp.
"I'm just doing the same as you. Appreciating the view." The Archangel smirks, eyeing Dean with a strange glint in his eye. Castiel tilts his head in confusion.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ahh, don't play the innocent with me! I've seen you checking Sammy out, don't deny it. I have to say, I'm surprised in you, little brother. I didn't know you liked bad boys. Unless you have some kinda salvation kink...?" Gabriel waggles his eyebrows. Castiel frowns.
"I don't understand."
"Jeez, talk about niave," Gabriel mutters, rolling his eyes. "You like Sam."
"Yes. He is my friend."
"No!" Gabriel struggles with the urge to facepalm. "You like him, crush on him, fancy him, want to jump his bones...covet him?"
Castiel's eyes widen.
"N-no I do not."
The denial is weak and stammered and Gabriel grins - lying had never been one of Castiel's strong points.
"Oh really? Can't say I blame you," Gabriel rakes his eyes purposefully over Sam and Castiel twitches. "Anyway...I should probably leave you to it. Enjoy."
Gabriel presses the beer bottle back into Castiel's hand and disappears with a wicked smile. The Winchesters continue working, unaware of Gabriels visit. Castiel frowns down at his beer. It's ridiculous - he doesn't desire Sam's affections.
"Ah, crap." Sam's annoyed voice carries across the yard to Castiel, and the angel looks up to see the youngest Winchester staring down at his vest in disappointment. The fabric is curled around a sharp, broken part of the car, and as Sam tries to pull away the whole top rips. Sam shrugs and pulls the shredded fabric over his head, to reveal his athletic frame.
His flesh glints and sizzles in the sun, sweat pooled in the hollow above his collarbones. His shoulders are strong and rounded, his chest wide and defined, tapering down into a tantalizing waist and the finest hips Castiel has ever seen.
He has never looked so devilish.
He has never looked so appealing.
Sam passes his shirt through his hands, huffing at the damage. He glances upwards and notices Castiel's gaze. He holds eye contact for a moment then his face creases into his easy grin. His white teeth flash, his dimples deepen and Castiel's legs turn to jelly.
Castiel's face heats up and he gulps down the rest of his warm beer, unable to look away.
Perhaps it would be best to study in the shade.