This fic is the result of a month of late nights spent frantically writing and countless cups of coffee. It's 29 chapters total (roughly 113K) and is full of fluff and angst. It's a mainly domestic Destiel fic, with Sam growing up throughout it. I'll be updating it every Saturday until it's all up. Reviews are very much appreciated cos I love knowing what you guys think!
The title is off the song by Led Zeppelin. Go check it out. Great song and the lyrics sorta fit the fic in some parts.
Also, if you have any questions concerning this fic, you can write me on my tumblr: barty-has-the-tardis. There's a link for it on my profile.
Hope you guys enjoy it!
Dean hated Mondays. He hated everything about them, but he especially hated the coffee. Monday coffee was always the worst. He'd always wondered why this was the case. It probably had something to do with the fact that the humans weren't quite out of the weekend and not far enough into the week to start functioning properly. Sometimes he really hated them.
Of course there wasn't much he could do without getting in trouble with the big guy downstairs, not that he gave a shit about what Lucifer thought. He may be his boss, but that didn't mean that Dean had to always be the perfect little henchman. Hell, he'd always been a rebel, even keeping his old name instead of picking out something a bit more akin to the names of his fellow demons. But then again, he wasn't just a demon. He was actually a bit more. To be specific, an angel of Hell.
He'd gotten the position after Crowley had reviewed Dean's file while Dean was soaking in a vat of hot oil. Dean didn't exactly remember much of his first days in Hell. He remembered it being very, very hot, and there was a Jefferson Starship song playing on repeat through his head, which was hell enough in his opinion. It was all sort of hazy in his mind and he remembered being very pissed at the short man with the accent who kept shouting things at the incoming souls.
Dean had disliked Crowley from the beginning, and they still weren't on good terms. Crowley wanted to rule Hell, but he was stuck as the greeter for now, which just made him pissed 24/7 and a real fucking pain to be around, which was part of the reason that Dean was rarely downstairs. He did have Crowley to thank for his current status however, even if it was Crowley's job to pick out those souls that would make good demons and the occasional angel.
Being promoted to an angel was something that Dean didn't expect. He'd always thought that there were two choices in Hell. Either you were strung up on a rack and tortured for eternity, or you grabbed the whip and did the torturing yourself. Apparently the position of a Hell angel was reserved for those who were truly horrible in life, whose souls were so blackened and charred by the time that they got to the hot place that all they needed was that extra little shove and they could be one of Lucifer's minions, the worst of the worst. Even some of the head demons shied away when these angels walked past.
Dean didn't know what to do about the fact that he had been deemed worthy of this position. He supposed he should be proud of the fact that he had been so fucking horrible in his life that he got a one way pass to the next level of hell spawn and didn't have to worry about the whole eternal torture thing, but something still didn't sit right in his chest. He didn't dwell on it though because he shouldn't. He was an angel of Hell, he didn't have time for doubts or the fact that sometimes he wished he had gone up instead of down.
Dean sighed heavily and glanced out the window of the coffee shop he was currently sitting in. His coffee had gone cold over an hour ago and he had been dropping torn off pieces of his napkin into the cup for the past twenty minutes so that he had created a sort of slush.
He had no reason in particular to be here. Well, actually he had one, but mostly he just wanted to do something, go somewhere other than the endless hallways and racks down in the hot place. Sometimes you just needed to get away and have some time to yourself. He also appreciated that it was the middle of winter because one could only spend so much time in temperatures designed to burn off mortal flesh before you started getting a little bit sweaty.
Dean watched a group of teenagers walk by the shop, huddled so closely together that they looked like one great big coat with three sets of legs. One of the boys made a face at Dean as they passed him. Dean flicked a finger lazily and then cracked a small smile as the boy slipped on a patch of ice that had appeared out of nowhere. He fell hard on his ass and the other two laughed at him for some time.
Dean turned his attention back to his coffee/napkin piece hybrid drink thing. He frowned down at it and it burst into flames. Shit. He quickly put it out, hoping that nobody saw his drink suddenly spontaneously combust. The people around him seemed oblivious to the fact that he had lit his coffee on fire and he sighed and leaned back further in his chair. It was just one of those days when his mood caused mini fire bursts, literally.
The door of the shop opened with a chime and a man walked in. He was dressed in a long tan trench coat over a black suit with a blue tie that was facing the wrong way. Dean grinned and waved him over. The man looked around nervously and then padded over to slump into the chair across from Dean.
"Hey Cas," Dean said happily, flashing the other angel a bright grin.
"I told you not to call me that," Castiel said, pouting a bit.
Dean grinned wider. Castiel was an angel of Heaven who he had met a few decades ago. They had formed a weird sorta friendship, and by weird Dean meant fucking illegal. Hell angels and Heaven angels weren't even supposed to make eye contact with each other, let alone watch movies together on Saturday nights. If Crowley knew that Dean's best friend was an angel of Heaven he'd probably throw a bitchfit and plead with Lucifer to have Dean put on the rack, not that Dean cared what Crowley did, hell he didn't give a flying fuck about what his fellow demons thought of him, cause he genuinely liked Cas. Sure the angel was a dick at times, not to mention the fact that he didn't even know what a toaster was, which was mostly due to the fact that he had been around during Noah's Big Ass Ark times and hadn't really gotten acquainted with technology yet.
Castiel looked at Dean's coffee cup, which was smoldering slightly and Dean gave him a sheepish smile. Castiel rolled his eyes and tutted his tongue in the way that Dean had actually come to like. He liked Cas a little more than he should, okay, a lot more. Castiel was actually pretty decent for a Heaven angel, and Dean didn't even want to think about the fact that Cas was fucking hot with those pink lips of his and that crazy hair that Dean had tried to gel flat one time, in vain of course. Dean knew that he had it bad for Cas, but there was no way he was ever going to let Castiel know that. It was against all demon laws to even talk to an angel of Heaven and Dean didn't think he'd even be able to count how many laws he'd be breaking if he tried to start a relationship with one. That didn't stop him from letting his eyes travel over the stubble lining Castiel's cheeks.
It was a strange thing to be an angel on earth, to be trapped within a human body, even if it did resemble the one that you had during life. Dean had never thought much on the matter before he met Castiel, it didn't pose a problem until he first laid eyes on Castiel's baby blues. He had popped a damn boner right in the middle of the street and had had to fucking fly out of there on invisible mode in order to take care of it. So much for being a supernatural being or whatever, he could still get hard-ons for fucking hot angels.
He wasn't exactly trapped in his body per se. It was complicated. When he was in Hell he was almost like a thought that he could shape into whatever he wanted. Up top he was confined to a human body, he was flesh and bone again, but not entirely. Sure he still had all the same sensations as when he was alive, but he doubted other people's eyes glowed red when they got pissed or that they could heal paper cuts by blowing on them.
Dean had created his body when he'd gone on his first mission, which had been to collect the soul of a tax broker who was going to choke on a hot dog at precisely three pm on May 24th. Dean had decided to model his body after his old one because he quite liked the way he used to look. He had to add a bit more flair though, a new leather jacket and badass boots that left a sizzling fire trial when he trumped around in the hot place. All his old scars from his time among the living were gone of course, and anytime he even got a scratch he would just heal it up. Another perk was that he was constantly in his prime, which meant that he could eat as many pies as he wanted and never gain a pound.
Castiel, on the other hand, didn't much care for the physical realm. He'd been wearing the same trench coat for over a hundred years and Dean was constantly flipping his tie around and smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit. If the guy was going to go for formal the least he could do was make an effort. Dean always had a small bit of hope that one day Cas would ditch the getup and don some tight jeans and some sort of leather vest, cause Dean was quite certain that Cas would be able to pull off anything.
Castiel sniffed loudly and scowled at the table. "I dislike the cold," he mumbled.
Dean snorted and mumbled, "You're such a baby, Cas."
Cas pouted, sticking his bottom lip out and crossing his arms as he sunk lower in his chair. They had this thing that they did, where they'd meet at coffee shops around the world and chat for a few hours. They'd been to all fifty states, Paris, Italy, Greece, and nearly every other major country or city. Currently they were seated in a shop in Kansas that was known for its house roast. It was Dean's week to pick the shop and he was rather fond of Kansas snow, so here they were, even if Cas didn't like the snowflakes that were still sticking to his long eyelashes as he blinked up at Dean.
Dean licked his lips as he watched Cas look around at the rest of the people in the shop. It was a habit that had formed somewhere around his seventeenth year of life as a human. He'd constantly lick his lips or run his tongue over them in life and the habit had carried over to his new "life" as a Hell angel. Other demons had little ticks as well, but Dean didn't often pay attention to them, he was too busy noticing the little things about a certain angel.
Castiel had his fair share of quirks. He did a shit ton of squinting and he used way too much hot water when he showered, not that Dean usually waited for Cas to finish showering, but they'd camped over at Dean's place a few times after marathoning Star Wars and getting drunk as fuck. Cas liked to always be fresh before he went back to his angelic duties.
Heaven's angels had similar assignments to Hell's angels. They both retrieved souls, but Heaven angels often were given a charge to watch over and guide, a human, someone that had a special place behind the pearly gates. Castiel had had one such charge a long time ago and Dean hadn't seen Cas for a long time. It had been the worst seventeen years of his life and he was almost thankful when Cas's human kicked the bucket one night trying to save a kitten from a fire. His soul was instantly sent to Heaven and he became, as Dean liked to call him, "Heaven's most adorable angel". Samandriel was still close to Castiel and more than once Cas had bemoaned not being able to take Samandriel with him when he went to visit Dean.
Dean had never been given a charge, that was usually the demons job, to rear a soul and form it so that one day it could crash its semi into a bus full of children or some other shit. Hell angels were usually given the task of transporting souls or doing special little tasks for Lucifer. Dean had taken on a few solo jobs, like chasing down a rouge demon and putting her on the rack. He had winced at her screams, but done his job anyway, because if you disobeyed a direct order from the Prince of Hell himself you were eternally screwed.
"I want to go to Disneyland," Castiel said suddenly, playing with the peeling edge of the table.
"Disneyland?" Dean echoed, peering at Castiel over the top of his dark shades.
Castiel nodded. "It's supposed to be the happiest place on earth and I've never been."
Dean shook his head. "That's just their advertising slogan. It's actually just a bunch of dudes dressed up like gay princes. Although they do have fucking delicious churros and you gotta ride Space Mountain at least once in your life."
"How can a mountain have the universe?" Castiel asked.
Dean gave him a look. "It's a rollercoaster, Cas."
"Oh," Castiel said.
He looked down at the table, his brow still furrowed. Dean patted him on the arm, letting his fingers linger over his material of Castiel's coat as he said, "You wanna go to Disneyland? Then fine. Let me just grab my Hawaiian shirt and we'll head over there."
Dean wasn't actually kidding and he got that fucking weird twist in his gut when Castiel's eyes lit up at the suggestion. Perhaps he and Cas could go to Disneyland and he could maybe sorta put his arm around Castiel's shoulders during one of the rides and then kiss him on the cheek right at the camera on Space Mountain.
Dean and Castiel never got to go to Disneyland, however, because Dean's cell phone went off, blaring "Highway to Hell" throughout the coffee shop. Dean let go of Castiel's sleeve and pulled the phone out of his pocket. He cursed under his breath as he read the 666 number. Fucking Crowley.
"What do you want?" Dean hissed into the phone when he picked up.
"Watch your tone," Crowley snapped. There was the sound of someone screaming and then Crowley continued, "Lucifer's got a job for you."
"I'm kinda busy at the moment," Dean cut in, glancing up at Castiel, who gave him a questioning look.
"You've been given a charge," Crowley said and Dean's mouth clicked shut.
"Don't fuck with me, Crowley," Dean growled.
"You're not my type and I'm not kidding. Lucifer assigned you himself. He's got big plans for this guy and wants to make sure that the procedure goes smoothly." Crowley took a breath and then said, "So you better get your pretty little ass down here so I can give you the 411 on your new human cuddle buddy."
The sound of Crowley hanging up clicked in Dean's ear and Dean set the phone down gingerly. Castiel looked up at him with confusion and he stuttered, "I, uh, I gotta go."
"Is everything okay?" Castiel asked.
Dean nodded. "Just a little something I gotta deal with downstairs."
"Ah I see," Castiel replied. He got up, brushing himself down as he said, "I'll let you go then."
Dean sighed and got up as well. He extended a hand to Castiel. "How bout we go to Cali for our next date."
Castiel's eyebrows furrowed and he asked, "I fail to see how these meetings are dates."
Dean reddened and dropped his outstretched hand. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Fuck, he was stupid. Castiel was sharp and he would find out eventually that Dean was interested in more than friends. But Dean wasn't prepared for Cas to give him an appalled look and then flit away.
It was bad enough that they were angels on opposite sides, but the fact that they were both male made it worse, on Castiel's part anyway. According to the holy book, dudes weren't supposed to lie together or whatever. Not that Dean cared what the big book of Jesus said, but Castiel did, and the prospect of him and Dean being together was way out of the question. It was a major sin, which meant that any chances of Dean getting some action with Cas were next to none.
Dean cleared his throat and waved his hand. "Just forget about it. I'll see ya later okay."
The confused expression still stayed on Castiel's face, but he let Dean hold the door open for them as they headed out into the snow. They made their way down the snow covered sidewalk. Castiel pulled his coat tighter around him, and Dean fought the urge to put his arm around Cas so that they could share body heat, which was something that Castiel seemed to lack.
"Shall I send you a pigeon with a suitable coffee shop in California?" Castiel asked, crinkling his nose as a snowflake fell on it.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Cas you gotta get with the times. No one sends mail via bird anymore. You've got that phone I gave you, right?"
Castiel's brow furrowed more and Dean sighed. He put a hand on Castiel's arm, lifting it so he could reach into the pocket of Castiel's coat. He tried not to focus on how he could feel Castiel's breath on the side of his face as he fished around for the cell. It was a futile mission and he withdrew his hand and then plunged it into the pocket of Castiel's pants.
Castiel made a little noise in the back of his throat as Dean's fingers delved deeper in the pocket. Dean tried to hide his satisfied smile. His fingers brushed what he knew to be the phone, but he wasn't done messing with Castiel. He let his thumb brush against the thin fabric of the inner pocket, rubbing over Castiel's thigh in the process.
Castiel visibly shuddered and the movement made Dean go still. Shit. Cas wasn't supposed to respond like this. Dean glanced up at him and saw that Castiel was breathing heavily, his eyes shut. Fuck fuck fuck.
Dean quickly grabbed the phone and drew it out, noting how Castiel relaxed as soon as Dean's hand left his pocket, although his cheeks remained tinged and Dean suspected that the pink wasn't entirely from the cold, which made his stomach do a flip flop and his breathing speed up. Fuck, he needed to get himself together.
"Uh," he mumbled, straightening up and holding the phone loosely in his hand.
Castiel opened his eyes and Dean's mouth went dry because he hadn't expected those baby blues to be obscured by the dark circle of Castiel's pupils. Castiel was obviously aroused and it was because of him. Shit.
"You wanted to..." Castiel panted and Dean's mouth fell open slightly as Castiel's rough voice reached his ears.
Castiel was breathing hard still and Dean wondered why Cas was so affected by this. Sure they were standing so close that they were practically breathing the same air, but Cas was panting like he'd just come down from an orgasm or something. The thought made Dean's gut twist and he licked his lips slowly, watching the way Castiel followed his tongue back into his mouth.
Castiel's eyes locked with Dean's and he rasped, "The phone, Dean. You wanted to show me something."
Dean shook his head. "Right, right. Yeah, um," he tore his eyes away from the dark depths of Castiel's and focused on the phone, scrolling through the contacts until he found himself. "You can text me," he explained, making sure Castiel was watching him as he opened a text message and typed out "Hi".
He hit the send button and took out his own phone as it buzzed aggressively. "I'll get the message and text you back." He pointed to Castiel's phone, "This is the send button. Just type out what you want to say on the keypad and then hit it."
He didn't mind explaining these things to Castiel and he watched as Castiel took the phone and made a text that read, "Hello, Dean." He sent it and gave a small smile when Dean's phone buzzed in response.
"Got it?" Dean asked, eyes glued to the small smile that was still on Castiel's lips.
Castiel nodded and then put the phone back in his pocket. His hand stayed there and the other one played with his collar. His eyes were everywhere at once, but refused to meet Dean's despite the fact that Dean was staring quite intently at him.
Dean gave up eventually when Castiel fixed his gaze on his shoe. He patted Castiel on the shoulder, saying, "See you round, Cas. Text me okay?"
"I will," Castiel replied quickly, his eyes darting up to meet Dean's briefly before going back to his shoe as his cheeks flushed pink again.
Dean smirked and made a point of bumping his shoulder against Castiel's as he made his way down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, but Castiel was gone, leaving just the swirling snow in his wake. Dean huffed, squaring his shoulders against the sudden wind that had sprung up. He marched on, listening to the sound of the snow crunching under his boots as his mind replayed whatever the hell had just happened between him and Castiel.
He had tried to work up Cas, and Castiel had responded in a way that Dean completely wasn't prepared for. Hell there was a moment when Dean thought Castiel might close that last little bit of distance and kiss him. His dick gave an excited twitch at the thought and he groaned, scrubbing at his eyes with his hands as he rounded a corner.
He really needed to get a hold of himself. He had been given a charge and the only thing that was on his mind were Castiel's blown pupils and the image of Castiel sprawled out underneath him, swollen lips panting his name as Castiel came for him, screaming to the heavens. The thought sent a hot spike through Dean's body and he had to stifle back a moan. He needed to get out of here and head downstairs already.