5 – Pucker Up
"What do you mean you've lost your mojo?"
"It's being suppressed by another angels Grace," Castiel's eyes are lowered and they darken, glaring at the carpet. Dean curses under his breath and sits on the edge of his bed.
"Great. Cases are gonna be harder now you're limp," Dean gestures to Castiel's entire body and Castiel lifts his dark gaze to stare at Dean in confusion. Sam steps in.
"Should we call him down again? Maybe we could talk him into giving you some of your powers back—"
"I wouldn't advise it. Forcefully calling an archangel to you once is dangerous – doing it twice is foolish," Castiel says impatiently, seating himself stiffly into a nearby chair. "I will just have to wait."
There's a beat of silence in which Sam and Dean share glances before looking back at Castiel's straight posture, distant gaze and blank expression.
"You're just gonna sit there?" Dean asks slowly. Castiel nods. Dean slaps his knee and stands up quickly.
"No way. You're all out of angel juice," he points a finger at Cas, "We're taking you to the bar."
Castiel frowns in disapproval, but Dean's already pulling him out of his seat by his sleeve. Sam stops him.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Dean? You know what Gabriel's doing—"
"—Yeah, and he can shove his little game up his shiny angelic ass. We're going for a drink." Dean shrugs off the hand that Sam's settled on his shoulder and keeps walking, grabbing his jacket from the back of the table as he passes. Castiel stumbles along behind him, turning his head around to look at Sam with pleading eyes. Sam sends him a look that says 'sorry man, this is out of my hands'.
So the three end up strolling along the sidewalk towards the nearest bar, the moon bold and bright above them. When they reach the door of the bar, Dean looks around warily. There's nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that seems to want to push him and Cas together, so Dean smiles to himself and opens the door, breathing in the smell of musky alcohol and men. Typical bar smell.
It's then Dean realises he's still got Castiel's sleeve trapped between his thumb and index finger. He drops it hurriedly and clears his throat.
"Go find a seat, huggy bear." Dean slaps Cas on the shoulder and heads to the bar, smiling politely at the barman. He holds up three fingers and skims the bar for women while the drinks are prepared.
Not bad, Dean thinks to himself, looking up a particularly spectacular red-head in a tight black dress.
"Here," the barman says gruffly, shoving three glasses of beer across the counter towards Dean. Dean nods in thanks, throws over the money and then heads over to the small booth that Sam and Castiel have claimed. Sam looks laid back and relaxed, fingers tapping the table to the beat of the droning country music that's coming from a vintage jukebox in the corner. But Castiel looks uneasy, his discomfort showing through the hard edge of his rigid shoulders. With a sigh, Dean plonks the drinks onto the table. He pushes a beer towards Cas.
"Drink up."
The angel looks between the beer, Dean, and the people surrounding him, then stretches forwards and brings the glass to his lips. Dean begins to smile and Sam frowns lightly in displeasure – probably doesn't like that I'm corrupting an angel.
The smile that's spread across Dean's lips begins to falter when Cas doesn't stop drinking; he's still glugging, chugging it back like a thirsty kid. Sam and Dean watch with open mouths as Castiel plonks the empty glass back onto the table, foam moustache decorating the top of his lip.
His eyes have drooped a little and he sends them both a weak smile, the foam stretching out along the base of his nose. Dean bites back a smirk.
"You've got—" he gestures to his own lips to indicate where the foam is, but Castiel just blinks up at him in confusion. Dean rolls his eyes and leans forwards, brushing the pad of his thumb against Cas's foamy upper lip. He wipes it on the collar of the trenchcoat afterwards.
A scantily-dressed, blonde waitress walks past. Dean taps her on the shoulder.
"Hey, can we get another beer over here?" He looks at Castiel out of the corner of his eye, examining the new twinkle that shone through his gaze, "Maybe a few," he hesitates, "a lot of vodka shots?"
She nods and smiles, heading away.
"Vodka shots? You're gonna give him vodka shots?" Sam asks in disbelief. Dean smirks and shrugs, sliding in beside Castiel. The angel's arm presses against his warmly.
"He's a lightweight. Look at him, he's like a kid on happy juice and he's only had a beer," Dean grins and knocks Cas with his elbow. Castiel swerves his head around and smiles lightly at Dean.
"I like alcohol," he says quietly, like he's scared the other angels would hear him. There's a rebellious glint in his eyes though, and it makes Dean grin wider. The waitress is back, and she plonks down ten vodka shots and another glass of beer.
Dean pushes all of the shots towards Castiel.
"Go on, show us what you got."
So Castiel downs all of them, one after the other, not even bothering to pause for breath. When he plonks the last shot down onto the table, it tumbles over, but he pays it no attention. He's eyeing Dean up, awaiting approval.
"Dude," Dean says, clapping a hand onto Castiel's shoulder, "You're awesome."
Castiel grins. Oh man, he was almost totally gone. And they'd been in the bar for, what, fifteen minutes?
"You probably should have told him that we don't always drink alcohol to get drunk," Sam says, though he's watching with amusement as Cas stretches out an arm and knocks over the pack of menus on their table. Dean's smiling so wide, he feels like his face is going to crack.
"Oh, this is grand," He straightens up suddenly and hits the table with his hand before hurriedly sliding out of the booth. "Cas, come here."
Castiel's head swings around loosely and he settles his uneven gaze on Dean. Then he crawls out of the booth and onto his feet, clutching onto Dean's side as he straightens up. Dean holds back a snigger and stretches out a finger to point at the red-head he'd been checking out at the bar.
"See that chick? She wants to be your friend. Go get her," he pushes Cas forwards and slaps him on the ass. And oh God, he actually walks towards her. When the angel reaches her side, the woman looks up at him in alarm and Dean doubles over with laughter, the confusion on her face utterly priceless.
Sam's pushed himself up to peer over the edge of the booth seat and lets out a gentle laugh. Castiel's standing stiffly in front of her and Dean wishes so badly he could hear what he's saying.
He doesn't expect what happens next. The woman's confusion bleeds into appreciation and she slides off of her bar stool, eyeing Castiel up admiringly.
"Hey, I think she's actually into him," Sam says with genuine disbelief, looking over at Dean, whose amusement has evaporated. He's left feeling cold and mildly put out.
The feeling doesn't last long, though, because a huge guy is heading towards Castiel, rage etched into his features. Dean pushes his way through the small crowd and the moment he reaches Cas's side, he grips his bicep.
"Time to go—"
"Oh no, you're not goin' anywhere, pretty boy."
Dean freezes and turns, gulping as he takes in the man who's twice his size, both in height and width. The red-headed woman looks mildly pissed, but not surprised. Dean's familiar with the expression. It's the expression of a woman whose boyfriend is protecting her… again.
"Hey, no trouble. He's just had a little too much to drink." Dean spreads his hands. The guy doesn't look convinced and steps forwards again, sneer hidden behind a bushy beard.
"You think shovin' this guy onto my bitch is gonna get rid of those gay feelin's, huh, boy?"
It takes Dean a moment to catch up with what it is Mr. Gigantor had said, but when he does, he laughs uneasily.
"Um, excuse me?"
"Since you got 'ere, I've been watchin' you grope' this poor guy and shove your gay in his face. If you'd just tell him, you'd be gayin' it up already instead of flirtin' with my woman," the guy growls, though whether he's pissed at the supposed 'homosexual feelings' Dean has, or the fact that he's been sharing the gay, Dean doesn't know. "I ain't lettin' you leave until you kiss your friend 'ere so somin' like this don't happen again.
And that's when it hits Dean. Protective boyfriend, calling Dean gay, out-of-this-world attractive woman, forced kissing?
It was fucking Gabriel.
"Your brother is a massive dick," Dean says to Cas, who's too busy trying to remain standing to take any notice of him. Dean chances a glance at the man in front of him, who, oh, has now apparently got buddies. He looks over to Sam, but his brother is busy talking to a nice, mousy looking woman who's sidled into the booth opposite him.
Was it worth the risk? Would Gabriel really let him get beat to a pulp by three ogres?
Man up, Dean. Dean straightens his shoulders and then raises his other hand to grip Castiel's other bicep. He wasn't going to let Gabriel get to him. The douche wanted a show and Dean wasn't going to give him the pleasure of it – he needed to play it cool, pretend that everything was okay.
So he turns himself and Cas so they're facing each other and then sucks in a breath.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel slurs, smiling giddily. Despite the strangeness of the situation, Dean has to bite back a smile. There's three big bozo's waiting for a big makeout session to happen between him and the angel and Dean's not willing to disappoint.
After all, only the straightest men could do something gay and not doubt their sexuality.
"Sorry about this, Cas, but I don't feel like being bar meat tonight," Dean cups Castiel's face with his hands and swoops forwards quickly, pecking him on the lips softly. He's hoping that's enough, but the three guys huddle closer.
"We want a show, ya fairy. Ain't makin' you do this for nothin'"
And another wave of realisation spreads through Dean. They're getting off this—
He stops his train of thought as quickly as possible, refusing to let himself think about it any further. It's just Gabriel, don't react, Dean, be cool.
So he lunges forwards again, squeamishness be damned, and presses his lips to Castiel's. Cas swerves backwards a little from the force and the two remain suspended, lips just smoothed out together.
Until Cas opens his mouth a little, parts his gently over Dean's and oh, that doesn't feel so bad actually. Dean traps Cas's bottom lip between his own, sucking it into his mouth and nibbling lightly over the soft skin. There's a light vibration that Cas emits through his mouth and his hands find the crooks of Dean's elbows, pulling him closer, pulling the sensations closer. Dean's fingers tighten over Cas's cheekbones.
He's not thinking. He's just feeling. It's lips on lips, that's all. His eyes are screwed shut and they close even tighter when Cas pulls his bottom lip free and sucks Dean's into his mouth. There's teeth and a little tongue and Dean would be damned to say it didn't make him a little hot under the collar.
It's that thought that makes him jerk free, pulling his hands back, letting Cas's fall back to his side. The angel is flushed, swaying, eyes still closed, mouth still open. Fuck.
"Good boy."
The voice makes Dean snap his head towards Ogre Number 1, who's now Gabriel.
"You bastard." Dean lunges forwards, but the angel's already gone, along with the other two men and the red-head. Dean glances around the rest of the bar, but everyone's still going about their activities, like three fucking giants hadn't just disappeared into thin air.
"That was nice," Dean hears Castiel say quietly behind him. Dean turns around slowly, irritation and disbelief mingling on his face. But Cas is no longer standing. He's lying face down on the floor, arms spread out wide.
"Peachy," Dean mutters to himself. He bends down and picks Cas up, slinging one of his limp arms around his shoulders. He staggers over to Sam, who's no longer talking to the mousy woman. Maybe she was an illusion too.
"Sammy, time to leave."
Sam looks up and his expression quickly changes from boredom to realisation.
"Gabriel?"
Dean grits his teeth and turns away, waiting for Sam to grasp Cas's other arm.
"Don't ask."
6 – Seeing double
They don't talk about it.
They've all reached this mutual understanding that any situations relating to Gabriel aren't mentioned. Castiel doesn't seem to remember the kiss, and if he did, he made sure not to mention it, or give any indications that he had 'thought it was nice'.
Those three words were what disturbed Dean the most. Cas had liked it, and Dean tried to reason himself into believing that it was because this was an angel who'd never experienced it before – and he'd been drunk too. It didn't make it any less off-putting. Whenever Dean caught a glimpse of Castiel's face, he was instantly provided with an image of his grin and 'that was nice' ringing in his ears.
Dean rubs a hand against his forehead, his thoughts suffocating the sound of Sam and Cas's voices.
Of course, Dean didn't think anything of it for the first week. He was obviously just a little freaked over the fact that his best friend – who was also a male and an angel – had enjoyed kissing him. It was when it had begun to play in his mind with vividness akin to reality - slowed down, reversed, sped up – that he realised he was living it all over again.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean pushes himself to his feet and shutting his eyes as it happens again, the sensations of Cas's teeth and tongue ghosting along his bottom lip, like they were there.
"Dean?" Sam's on his feet too, resting a worried hand on his shoulder.
"I'm fine, Sam, I'm just—" He cuts himself off as a flush runs up the back of his neck and his eyes fly open in shock because Cas had not put his hands there. "It's that douchebag. He's…" Dean closes his eyes again and swallows, resting a hand against the table next to him. It's like he's seeing two things at once – there's Sam in front of him and Cas not far behind, and then there's this translucent image of Cas back at the bar, his hands and lips doing sinful things. He screws his eyes shut tighter when the hands in question cup his crotch, the heel of a palm grinding hard into it.
"What?" Sam asks, his frustration growing. Dean slams the hand that's propping him up back onto the desk in anger.
"He's mind-whammied me. There's some freaky ass ghost-Cas groping me up!"
There's a stunned silence and Sam's hand swiftly drops from his shoulder. He turns away, and Dean can tell by the light tremble of his shoulders that's giggling.
"Oh, that's right, laugh it up, Sammy." Castiel seems concerned and begins to move forwards, but Dean holds up a hand, glaring at Sam when he starts to snort with laughter. "Don't. I can only deal with one of you at a ti—" he cuts himself off when the ghost hands and lips return, hands palming his ass and lips sucking his neck. He closes his eyes again and attempts to regain his composure, ignoring his body's spiking reaction to the fondling.
Castiel shuffles uncomfortably from where he's standing in the doorway and that's when Dean realises there's a very-light sprinkling of pink dusted over his cheeks.
"Oh, man, he's got you too," Dean says in realisation. Castiel clears his throat uncomfortably and straightens.
"It would seem so."
Sam's laughter abruptly stops, because suddenly the situation is so much more awkward then before. There's three men in a room, two of which are being groped by the other in ghost form. Sam's the third wheel.
"I'm just gonna…" He gestures into the general direction of the door and then leaves, grabbing his coat and the Impala's keys on his way out. When the door clicks shut, Dean stares hard at the floor and not Cas, whose breathing is loud and erratic, Dean can hear him from where he's standing. He bites his tongue to stop himself letting out a moan when the ghost's hands brush over his nipples.
"This is so wrong," Dean says hoarsely into the growing silence. It's wrong, because it's just him and Cas, alone, in the motel room, with ghost versions of each other doing dirty, dirty things. Castiel is slowly losing the composure he had built up so well, lips thick and parted, breath gasping in heavy air.
"I've never had anyone touch me this way before," the angel whispers and Dean fights hard against the strip of desire that springs to his groin at the sound of it, "It's… overwhelming."
"Yeah, well, be thankful you're getting it now. There is no way the real me would do something like… whatever it is he's doing."
"His lips appear to be—"
"—Dude, no, don't frickin' tell me." Dean groans with disgust, but it soon turns into one of need. There's the kiss again, so real against his lips, but it's more teasing this time, teasing because Dean's aroused now. He can't fight off his body's reaction and it's burning up and he's – damn it – turned on.
He grits his teeth and throws back his head when the ghost Cas grinds his hips against his aching groin, over and over and over. Castiel is watching him so intensely from the other side of the living room, sweat trickling down his brow, gasping in oxygen hungrily. Dean opens his eyes a fraction, meeting Cas's gaze, while the ghost of him thrusts harder and harder and if he doesn't stop soon, he's going to come in his jeans again, while Cas is watching.
But then the feeling's gone. Everything. The ghost of Cas has evaporated and Dean slumps forwards, the orgasm-that-wasn't sinking back into his body, groin still aching, breathless. Castiel is leaning over too, eyes closed, hair ruffled somehow, mouth open. Dean glances at it briefly before meeting Cas's now-open gaze.
"This is fun," he quips sarcastically, stretching up and wiping a hand along his sweaty forehead. Castiel looks very much like he wants to fly away, but what with his angel mojo being on standby, he's stuck with the awkward aftermath. After a quick inspection, Dean realises that yep, this just got more awkward. Because Cas's trousers are tented, and his half-hard erection is pressing into the zipper of his jeans, so they're both aroused and alone in the room.
Gabe's left us out to dry, the son of a bitch, Dean thinks, turning around to hide his flush. He thinks of everything: Sam naked, Bobby naked, Gabriel naked. Oh, that does it quite nicely. His erection slowly droops and his jeans are comfortable again. It doesn't chase away the tinkling of lust that's still decorating his veins, but he can live with it.
When he turns around, Cas is leaning forwards and fuck no, his hand is rubbing himself through his trousers.
"Cas!" He exclaims in outrage. Cas bites his lip and halts his movements, blown pupils rising to meet Dean's.
"How do I stop this?" He says huskily and sighs casually, like Dean hadn't just caught him trying to jack himself off through his trousers. Dean tears his eyes away from the bulging crotch and clears his throat.
"I'm not teaching you the birds and the bees, Cas. Just… think of something that creeps you out," Dean's lips quirk a little, "Like your angel buddies naked."
"The naked body of a human isn't displeasing to an angel, Dean. That doesn't help," Cas rushes to get his words in and when Dean looks at him again to see why, he sees that his hand has returned to its previous activity. He lets out a frustrated sigh.
"Right. You stay here and discover masturbation; I'm gonna find Sam." Dean screws his eyes shut to maintain his innocence and walks as fast as he can towards the direction of the exit.
And that's when the rug returns with a vengeance.
He trips and as he's falling forwards, he already knows his destination. His hands find Cas's chest and they both fall against the doorframe, Dean letting out a groan of pain as his head collides with the sharp edge and Cas letting out a different groan entirely.
Dean lifts his head, now sporting a small lump, and freezes when Cas's hips jut upwards into his, ever-so-slightly. He looks at the angel, who's debauched and totally losing control, eyes wide with confusion, as they had been before. He's never seen this before, this look of utter loss. Not just on Cas, but on anybody. Was sex that terrifying? Was it that confusing? He wasn't thinking about initiating sex, of course, but the fact that the angel looked so lost, like he couldn't quite decide whether to push Dean against a wall and fuck his brains out or push him away in horror. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Dean was facing the same dilemma, the lust that was making his whole body tingle accumulating in one particular area.
"Dean," The name is almost inaudible on his lips, and it's what jerks Dean back to reality. He pulls away, the warmth that had emanated onto his chest from Cas's sifting away.
"Gonna find Sam," Dean mutters, before leaving the motel room in what definitely wasn't an embarrassed fluster.
When he gets outside, he sucks in the fresh air and then stares appreciatively at a slender woman's legs as she walks past. He lets out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.
Still straight, Winchester. Still straight.
A/N: I don't know if I mentioned this in the chapter, but the reason Gabriel can suppress Castiel's grace is because he was the head of his garrison. That was why the angels could never fully humanize Cas - because he wasn't part of their garrison, and only an archangel had the power to do so. Anna worked underneath Gabe and became the leader when Gabriel disappeared. This is my headcanon, anyway.