Chapter 4

It's Just a Jump to the Left

"He'll do press-ups, and chin-ups. Do the snatch, clean and jerk. He thinks dynamic tension must be hard work."

Gabriel grinned as he looked at the giant bag of candy in his hands. "We're bringing in quite the haul, little guy."

"Gay!" Johnny yelled.

"Yeah, yeah. Your Dad just loves that you call me that," he said. "Though he's the one dating someone with the same equipment as him." Johnny looked at him curiously as they headed for the next house, watching as a father and his daughters—one dressed as a ballerina and one dressed as a ninja—gave him and Johnny thumbs up for their costumes.

Together, they moved to the front door where a woman stood wearing a pair of black cat ears and painted nose and whiskers. "Trick or Treat!" Gabriel said, putting on his biggest, most charming smile. He saw the frown start. It wasn't the first time they'd come across it. Johnny was young, too young for a lot of the candy people were giving out, but thus far, Gabriel had managed to pass him off as a small two-year-old rather than a kid just a few months over one year old.

"Isn't he a bit young?"

"A bit, but I wasn't going to deny him a little fun because he's only two. And he's having a blast so far." He looked down at Johnny. "Aren't you, buddy?"

Johnny tilted his head back to look at Gabriel and grinned.

"He looks a little small for two," the woman said, obviously not buying it. "And I don't think I've ever seen you around town. That's why I hate we put our trick or treat times in the paper. People like you think you can hit multiple towns for more candy." She looked at the massive bag of candy they'd managed so far.

"Lady," Gabriel said, "I'm a grown adult." And then some. "If I wanted candy that bag, I'd buy a bag. That's cheaper than the gas to go from town to town." So, maybe he had gone from one town to another. She didn't need to assume that. "Other people just thought my nephew, mini-Thor, was so adorable, they gave a little more generously."

"You've got more than enough to satisfy your sweet tooth," she said as she started to close her door, and it was obvious the rest of her statement was meant for only her ears, but the door was still open just enough for Gabriel to hear. "I'm not going to give him candy that kids actually from this town deserve just because he showed up with a little retard."

Gabriel had long been punishing the smug assholes of the world, and on occasion, it was because they had slighted him in some way, though more often, it was because he saw them treat someone else unfairly. Never had he felt the sort of burning, righteous anger that he felt now. His days as Loki were coming back fast and strong, and he was murderous.

He smacked his hand at the door, keeping her from closing it. "I don't think you heard me the first time," he said. "I said, 'Trick or treat.'"

"Get away from my door!" the woman yelled, trying to shut it.

"You didn't give me a treat, so I'm going to assume you picked trick," he looked down at his nephew. "Can you say trick, Johnny-boy?"

"Tick!" Johnny exclaimed—though it sounded a bit like tit, and Gabriel was nearly as pleased as the first time he'd shouted out "Gay."

"That's right. Trick time, and lady, you've just ticked off the king of the Tricksters." He saw she was fumbling by her door for something, which she quickly pulled out and started to spray in Gabriel's face with complete disregard for Johnny standing at his side. He tried not to let this make his anger worse, since she looked legitimately frightened and he was legitimately threatening at this point. She couldn't do anything to him and thankfully didn't hurt Johnny, as the pepper spray hit his wings and momentarily revealed their outline as they protected the boy.

With a snap of his fingers, he, Johnny and the woman were all transported inside her home where her husband was charging down the stairs, having heard her shouting. Gabriel snapped his fingers again, freezing him on he steps.

"What are you?"

"I have so many names, but let's just call me Loki. It's fitting enough, since I'm acting more as a trickster tonight." He tried not to grin, but it didn't work. "Do you know it's been two years since I got to play a good prank to bring justice to bullies like you? I've been clean for more than two years now, but lady, you've just made sure I fall off the wagon. And you're so going to regret it."

#

Dean glanced over at Cas and saw him pouting as the people in the audience once again yelled "Asshole!" after Brad said his name. It was funny to see Cas give that constipated expression as he stood underneath of an unfolded newspaper. Usually, the hunter was on the receiving end of that look.

"They're not calling you an asshole, you know," Dean said from beneath his own.

"I know that," Cas said, "but he doesn't seem like such a horrible guy. Just naïve."

Dean wrapped his arm around Cas's shoulders and kissed his temple. "It's just a movie, and he is a little bit of an uptight asshole in the beginning. He hasn't met Frank yet, but he's about to."

"So... Brad, my character, is an uptight man who meets Frank, your character, and he becomes less so." The hunter smirked at the relevance, but nodded.

"Get ready to dance," Dean told Cas, and honestly, the angel looked more panicked by that than he had by Chastity in the brothel. "You'll get instructions, and at least you're not wearing heels or really fucking drunk."

"The second part of that is your own fault."

The music began, and Dean felt a hand actually seeking out his own. He didn't know if Cas wanted support or was offering it to the drunk man in heels, he didn't know, but it was one of those things that made his chest feel warm and content. After a minute of figuring out which fingers went where in the dark, they threaded them together and waited to begin the dance.

"It's just a jump to the left!" the criminologist on the screen said, and the entire theater obeyed, though Dean was careful not to risk his neck too much with the heels. He glanced at Cas, who looked like he was trying to pass some sort of test; Sam had probably looked less serious taking the LSAT.

"And then a step to the right."

"That's more than one step," Cas said perhaps too loudly.

"Put your hands on your hips." They only managed one hand because Cas was not letting go of Dean's hand. "And pull your knees in tight." With his bow legs, Dean knew that wasn't happening, but the angel beside him was doing his very best to mimic the movements on the screen. Not really a dancer unless he was drunk, and definitely not a choreographed dancer, the hunter found himself just watching as Cas rigidly but perfectly copied the moves on the screen, including the pelvic thrusting and movements of whatever character was being featured at that moment.

Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the angel's seriousness while standing in those underwear. Maybe it was how on-beat but how stiffly he was dancing. Maybe it was the large amount of alcohol that he'd had to drink just to get to this point. Whatever the reason, Dean absolutely lost it. He started laughing so hard that he had to lean on the seat in front of him, then collapse back onto his own seat.

He knew everyone around him was staring, but he didn't care. He just tried to calm himself so they didn't get thrown out. He wasn't really sure what they would do to someone who disrupted the movie, after seeing what they did to the people who wanted to see it for the first time. Dean chanced a look at Cas to see if he was irritated with the laugher. Instead, he found his angel smiling broadly at him. Cas sat down, putting his hand over Dean's as he leaned over to kiss him softly. "I like seeing you this happy," he said just loudly enough for Dean to hear.

Then, Tim Curry came on the screen, demanding the audience's attention, though the hunter couldn't help but notice Cas looking over at him, as though he was getting some very not-for-public-consumption ideas based on the character's boldness and Dean's own matching costume. The man couldn't really deny that most of the evening, he'd been getting flashbacks to Rhonda Hurley, but he'd had distractions then, embarrassment then. And Cas sure as hell hadn't been giving him that look, either.

"You're giving me ideas, you know. Not for nothing, Cas," he said, unable to help himself, "but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid."

Rather than the angry glare he'd gotten the first time he'd said that, Dean found the angel smirking at him, then kissing him within an inch of his life.

#

Meatloaf had already made his appearance and met his end before Sam realized that Dean and Cas weren't participating in the shouts at the screen and hadn't been for God only knew how long. Though Metatron seemed to be getting into the spirit of things, at the end of the movie, Cas might as well still be a "virgin" because he and Dean were too busy trying to eat one another's faces like a couple of teenagers. They were quiet, but they were still attracting notice and all kinds of interest from the people around them.

It made Sam wonder if Gabriel had spiked Dean's drinks with more than alcohol because he wasn't all that big on PDAs, and he hadn't exactly been all on board with the show and the costume either. Of course, something about this could have set off some unnamed—and God help him, please, always and forever unvoiced—kink in them both.

The next thing Sam knew, Dean was leaning close to Cas's ear and then standing. He was wobbling in the heels and his posture was strange, but he made it through the throng of movie-watchers without much trouble. Leaning over Emma, who didn't even bother to try to pretend her attention was still on the movie after this recent development, Sam asked a very bereft-looking Cas "Is Dean okay?"

Cas was frowning. "He went to the bathroom and told me to wait five minutes before I go to see how he's doing."

Sam groaned, and he was certain Emma was laughing quietly.

"What? Does that mean something?" Cas asked.

"He's inviting you to have sex in the bathroom," Sam said, but Cas obviously didn't hear him at that moment. "It means you're going to have sex!" he repeated much too loudly. The entire audience began to laugh because—as Sam happened to notice—the scene with Brand and Frank in bed together was larger than life in front of them. His timing couldn't have been better.

Emma's quiet, shoulder-shaking chuckles had transformed into guffaws that made her throw her head back and whole body shake. Even Metatron was laughing because, though he was at the far end of the aisle, he was smart enough to realize Sam hadn't been talking to the characters on the screen. Balthazar was perceptive, too, and he was now giving Cas a big thumbs up. Cas, though, looked like he could barely contain himself to give Dean the few minutes he'd asked for before charging out of the theater and heading for the bathroom.

#

"What you you going to do to me?" the woman asked, her voice trembling in fear.

"See, that's the thing," Gabriel said. "I usually make the punishment fit the crime, but I'm not above just ridding the world of the bullies of this world. I've had people eaten by crocodiles, electrocuted, hit by cars, abducted by aliens, thrown out of buildings..." Then, Johnny began to whimper. He was scaring the poor kid.

"Be happy he's here. He might have a physical handicap, but he knows how dangerous I am right now. And because he's here, you won't die from what I'm about to do to you, but you may wish I had." He looked up at the man on the stairs, frozen in place. He wasn't perfect, but he didn't deserve the fallout of Gabriel's wrath. So, he chose to make this as temporary as possible, but still a learning experience. "You are going to donate regularly to the Special Olympics, and it will be a reoccurring deduction that you can't stop. Now, you're about to be in excruciating pain, but you won't die. It will give you a taste of what it's like for people you might label as a retard. And I hope it's enough of a deterrent this once, because every time you utter that word or even think of bullying someone, you will get to go through this again."

Gabriel pushed Johnny out of the house as the woman collapsed on the floor with the worst migraine of her life. She would spend the next 24 hours making no sense and not thinking straight. The doctor wouldn't recognize it right away, nor would the doctor realize it immediately if she ever went back.

"Okay, Kiddo. Time for more trick or treating."

When Johnny didn't immediately respond with his usual grin, but instead looked over his shoulder at the woman with big, sad eyes, Gabriel felt almost guilty.

#

Castiel had already checked the men's restroom, only to find it was empty. That left what was probably the smarter choice, the family restroom that really was unnecessary at an adults-only event. He knocked on the door three times and called through the door, "Dean, are you okay?"

The door opened, and Castiel found himself subject to scrutiny. Dean obviously wasn't sure if he had gotten his message or he was genuinely checking on him. The angel offered a small smirk to make it clear that he had gotten the message. This was not the time to point out that it had actually been Sam who pointed out the goal of this little meeting. Castiel liked the idea of getting credit and he also feared the truth would "ruin the mood."

He stepped inside and Dean hastily snibbed the lock on the door. Castiel found himself shoved against the wall near the sink and his lover's reddened lips against his. His hand moved instinctively to Dean's hair, only to find the wig a barrier to the short brown locks he enjoyed curling his fingers in. It took several seconds of mouths meeting and tongues twisting for either Castiel or Dean to realize the wig had come away in his hand.

"Wait, does that mean the costumes can come off now?" Dean asked between panting breaths.

"Perhaps. Though we have nothing to substitute them with," Castiel answered as Dean dropped to a knee and began unbuckling one of the shoes.

"Well, these have to go, at least. I'm not used to this height difference between us, and they're throwing off my balance." Castiel looked around the room; balance was certainly something they would need. The only surface in the room was a baby changing area that did not look like it would support the weight of a grown man, and there was no small stall that would allow them each to brace against a wall to do this. (They hadn't done something like this before, but Castiel's imagination had been going wild since he first watched Dean rinsing himself off after a hard day of working on cars at the garage months before.)

"I wonder if the make-up can come off, too," Dean said, "or if the costume's the only thing. Like Gabriel actually considered that some of us have to piss once in a while."

Castiel grabbed a paper towel and wet it while Dean switched feet, gleefully letting one of his heels slip off onto the floor. He stopped his partner in his work and gently tilted his head up to wipe at his painted face. There was no change. "Just the costume," he said.

"Thanks for trying," Dean said as he kicked off the second shoe and looked up at the angel from his place on the floor. His breath was warm, tickling against Castiel's nearly naked body, and the angel didn't think he could be blamed for the thoughts going through his mind at that moment.

"Are you wanting me to do something while I'm down here?" Dean asked, rubbing his right hand over Castiel's outer thigh. "I make no promises, but I'm willing to try."

"You don't... you don't have to."

"Let me rephrase that, then. I want to try." Dean's other hand found a similar spot on Castiel's other thigh and together with its partner, it began sliding upwards to the band of the large white underwear that served as his costume. Castiel watched as a soft pink tongue darted out between bright red lips and bright white teeth followed to bite the bottom lip as he slowly pulled the briefs down.

He shivered but watched as Dean slowly inched the fabric over his hips. For most of the night, Castiel had been waiting for this side of his lover to surface, that man who is incredibly confident in himself when it comes to his own sexuality. Whether it was because they had watched of the movie, that they were alone together, that the wig and the shoes were gone, or because the alcohol had taken enough effect... it didn't matter. Dean was able to give him that self-satisfied little look as he wrapped a hand around Castiel's penis.

Another swipe of the tongue and then Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to the head of the angel's penis. It made him shudder and slam back against the wall. His tongue moved slowly over the slit, and Castiel's knees trembled. His hands were at a loss for what to do. He didn't know if Dean would want him to touch his hair, if he should keep his hands flat against the wall where they were now.

He looked down to find wide green eyes looking up at him and those reddened lips wrapped around Castiel. The angel could only close his own eyes and moan, then whine when the mouth left him with a soft popping noise. "Shh. The bartender's still out there."

"I will do my best," he said, but trying to keep quiet would be nearly torture.

"And you can touch me, you know."

"How—"

"Your hands keep twitching against the wall. Kind of a tell they want to be doing something else."

Given permission finally, Castiel outstretched his left hand and gently carded through Dean's hair, then allowed his fingers to tighten ever so slightly. Dean winced, but didn't object. And when he moved his mouth forward, Castiel knew Dean had no complaints.

Castiel was lost in the sensation of Dean's warm, wet mouth surrounding him. His hands curled tightly in Dean's hair and it took every ounce of restraint not to adjust the pace according to his own needs rather than what Dean was comfortable setting. His fingers stroked over the man's brown hair as he moved his mouth down. His tongue, his lips, they were doing remarkable things to him.

"Dean," Castiel gasped out. "Touch me."

Hands began moving over Castiel's body, over his thighs, following the line of his hips and ending with cupping his balls. His knees began to give out as he took in the sensations of wet, warm, pressure, touch. Then finally, a steadying hand returned to his hips and pressed him solidly against the wall.

Castiel's hand tightened in Dean's hair as he continued to fight the instinct to move his own hips, to move his lover's head. He moaned again and very nearly called out his name before remembering there were people, or at least one person just outside. He moved his head back and asked, "How do you want to do this? I can keep going or we can..."

"I won't last long," he said, "but I want to..." He wasn't sure how to say what he was thinking. "I don't want to like this. I want to... I want you to..." He could barely think, or breathe.

Dean looked up at him. The muscle in the side of his jaw twitched as he seemed to struggle to find something to say. He licked his lips and his eyes moved down the length of Castiel's body, then back up at his face. "Okay," he breathed out.

With a glance to the wall, Castiel sought out the dispensers mounted there for something to make this easier. He was largely powerless now, and he knew Dean wouldn't forgive himself if he hurt him. Castiel didn't really want to experience the pain, either, if he were being truthful. It appeared they had two options, soap and baby lotion. Though there was a dispenser for baby wipes and changing pads, they would be of little help for what they had in mind. Castiel was opting for the lotion, because he had no desire to experience an antibactiral hand soap if he had an alternative.

Dean was already well ahead of him, standing from his spot on the floor and pressing against the button for the lotion to get a sufficient-enough amount for their purposes. "Are you sure?" he asked once he had a hand full of the pinkish substance. "We haven't done this with you powered down before."

"Then, perhaps it is time," he said, pulling Dean close enough that their lips nearly touched. "Unless you think that I am reluctant to feel you pound into my body roughly against this wall while I am in a state that makes it certain I will feel the reminder of it for some time."

With a growl, Dean's lips were on his. It was bruising, the force with which he pressed against Castiel, the way his tongue demanded to be allowed in. The angel knew the added taste in Dean's mouth, unfamiliar in the hundreds of times they had done this was his own, and that knowledge did more to drive him on than deter him.

When they parted, Dean was panting, his still-covered chest pressed against the angel's bare one. "Fuck, Cas, you're getting too good at the dirty talk."

With a grin of pride, Castiel kicked the briefs to the floor and he watched intently as Dean slid down his body. The man's mouth found the tip of his penis again, and that same overwhelming feeling threatened to send him to his knees. It was too much, too strong, and so wonderful. It was pleas-oh-please-more and if-you-don't-stop-I-will-be-undone. Dean's hand guided Castiel's left leg onto the man's strong shoulders, and then Dean's thick fingers sought out the spot between his cheeks and found it with practiced ease, even if their current roles were normally reversed.

"If I don't last," Castiel said, between shuddering breaths as one then two fingers breached him, "I don't want you to stop."

"I'm not sure I could," Dean said, placing a kiss to Castiel's hip as his fingers explored further. "Did I ever tell you about this girl I dated when I was nineteen?"

"I understand that I am not well versed in human customs, but I don't believe this is the best moment to tell me about your past conquests," Castiel said with a grunt.

"But it kind of is. She made me wear her panties. And I liked it."

"Wearing that," Castiel managed though he groaned softly as a third finger began working its way inside, "is getting you excited."

"Wouldn't want to do it all the time, but right now, yeah, it is."

"Dean," he said, past patience to wait much longer, "I'm ready."

Still, his lover didn't stop, but opted to torture him longer, licking the head of his penis just lightly enough to make the angle shiver. "You you say, but you know, I've been watching you, behind thoes glasses you still haven't taken off. You can't take your eyes away from my mouth right now, either."

"Do you blame me? It is doing some remarkable things." The fingers finally left Castiel's body, and he keenly felt their absence.

"And it's not..." Dean lowered Castiel's foot to the ground so that he could stand. "...because I'm all dolled up?"

"Do you want it to be?" Castiel asked as he watched Dean lower his black underwear just enough to allow his penis to spring free from the confines.

"Not necessarily," Dean said. "But if it gives you a thrill, I'd do it once in a while."

That prospect was far more appealing than the reddened lips that were little more than a novelty to the angel. Dean willing to make Castiel happy. It was still overwhelming to think there was someone who wished to place his needs and wants first. He had to kiss him again for that.

The moments after that passed in a blur. Heated flesh pressed against similarly warm skin, rough fabric grazing, brushing, Castiel's legs wrapped around Dean's hips while his fingers gripped his hips and buttocks so tightly there would certainly be bruises until Gabriel returned his powers.

Dean filled him up, slammed him against the wall. Their lips met, they explored jaws and necks. They offered hushed words of love as they shuddered and arched and rolled against one another. Castiel's wings made their appearance known, despite the damper on his grace, and they cocooned Dean's frame in feathers that could not be seen.

As he'd expected, Castiel did not last long, but it took a few more slides up and down the cool tile walls before Dean was spent inside of him. He ached, and for perhaps the first time in their relationship, he understood how Dean could say that ache actually felt good.