Heaven Can Wait

You had fallen long before the first angels… Dean/Castiel

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Set During: Season 9 "Heaven Can't Wait"

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He looks so disheartened, so dishevelled, that you can't quite face the thought of him heading back to the garage and camping out in the back room. You want to bring him back to the bunker, but at the thought of Sam you bite back the offer. Priorities.

But when he opens the passenger door, you don't stop him, and as you slide behind the wheel he is staring at you and he looks so very, very human.

You don't know how to feel about this.

You drive him back to your motel – a compromise between taking him home to Ezekiel and kicking him out to the curb. He looks at you silently, questioning. You tell him to shut up.

You dump your duffle bag on the table and glance around the room. It feels tiny with the two of you in it – suffocating, almost – and your eyes find the double bed but refuse to linger there. For while you hardly needed two beds for an independent hunt, you know how this must look to Castiel:

Suggestive; seductive.

And you open your mouth to explain properly – to assert whether he thinks he is getting a date this evening after all – but the words get muddled in your throat and instead you are talking business; latching onto the angels instead of having to actually admit to an emotion.

And if you expect him to sit down calmly in the chair to discuss matters then you are mistaken, for instead he is taking a step towards you and you find yourself backing into the bed.

Then he opens his mouth and the words that leave him vibrate to the bottom of your soul and you wonder if his voice sounds deeper than usual when he says:

"Heaven can wait, Dean."

And you know what he is really saying is that this – THIS – can't wait. Because then his fingers are curling around the back of your head as he is pulling you closer and closer and you know what is coming next.

And maybe this is what you had been planning all along; from the first moment he called. Maybe this is why you came out here all alone, why you booked a double room. Maybe this is why you brought him back here with you.

But then the maybes become certainties as he kisses you, drawing you deeper into his mouth, and you grab him round the waist and pull him down onto the bed with you.

And whether it was the pizza man, Meg, or that bloody reaper, he is definitely no longer the same virgin you took to that brothel all those years ago: his hands are sure and steady and so desperate for you that you are burning at his touch. You respond with equal vigour; enticing him even nearer to you as your hands grab clothing. Then buttons. Then skin.

For heaven is abandoned and the angels have fallen, but at this very moment the universe can wait: wait for the mind-numbing bliss of this kiss.