I do not own Supernatural..
o0Captivated0o
For three days I've been spending my nights squatting in this den of iniquity. My legs crossed in a pair of jeans that are much too tight, and a low cut shirt showing my pale chest. Dean had instructed me how to sit, explained how to suck a little more than necessary on the straw to draw attention to my 'girly mouth', as he put it.
I was assisting Dean in getting his next victim.
The man was gay, like the one who had taken me from Sam's campus. There were many similarities; and an evil, vicious piece of me that still remembered the man who touched me couldn't say no when Dean asked for my help.
Our 'vacation' had been put on hold, we were close to the boarder, in a little spanish speaking town full of criminals. We had stopped off only for the night when Dean caught news of the 'maricón' who was preying on young men in the bars. Dean had decided we should try and track him down before anyone else got hurt.
So here I was posing as a rent boy. I had been 'hit' on multiple times. But Dean insisted none of them were the right man. Dean claimed he would know the murderer when he saw him because 'it takes one to know one'. But I highly doubt it, because if that were the case I would notice the man the second he walked through the door.
I was suckling on the straw loosely, feeling Dean's gaze from across the room where he was seated in a dark corner. Smoke curled up from an ashtray in front of him, a beautiful blonde woman perched on his lap.
I felt him watching me. I looked away, down at my sugary pink drink. Dean had told me to get virgin drinks so I could stay sharp in case of an emergency. But the looks Dean were sending me were effecting more than any alcohol could.
Dean's gaze was hungry.
From the shadows of the room, the dark gold-green glint reflected back to me like a predators. Dean ignored the girl on his lap as she whispered sultry promises into his ear. His eyes never left mine, he tipped back his beer, eyes still locked on me.
I didn't even realize someone had sat at my table until he waved a hand in front of my face.
"Don't tell me you like pretty boys." The man grinned. Which was amusing because he was far 'prettier' than Dean, in the sense that his blonde hair was combed back into an almost ridiculously stiff coif. He wore a collared polo shirt that I'm sure set Dean's eyes rolling in annoyance. I wonder when I began to know the man so well that even his amusement towards certain fashions were familiar.
"I prefer all men." I attempted to make my voice more breathy in the way Dean had instructed. This was a lie of course, I had been asexual for most of my life. Once I had been attracted to a classmate named Meg, but she had passed away in a car accident a few years back.
"Good to know." The man leans in close. The scent of his cologne is so thick it nearly chokes me. I squint at him, before schooling my features.
"So what's your name?" He asks, a practiced smile twisting his lips. I try not to frown at him too obviously.
"Jimmy." I lie. He chuckles warmly, leaning in closer. I lean away.
"I'm Chris." He nods, looking me over appreciatively. I flush as his look settles on the tight fabric over my pelvis. I am of average size, I suppose. But the action is still embarrassing.
I shoot a glance to Dean, and his face is dark. He shakes his head no, and I nod discretely.
It's not the man we are looking for.
"I'm waiting for my boyfriend." I lie again. Chris's cheery face immediately dims and he raises an eyebrow.
"You've been here half the night, sucking on that straw and shaking that tight little ass of yours. I think your single." Chris's voice is attempting to be flirty, but there is hostility laying beneath his false tone that sours his words.
I flinch as he reaches to touch me. The cold sweat of an approaching attack sets in. Hands grip my shoulders and I relax right before the attack can occur.
"He bothering you, sweetheart?" Dean asks, his deep voice rumbling against my back. I shake my head looking down. Chris stands up, he's a few inches shorter than Dean.
"He told me he was single." Chris sniffs defensively. Dean's grip on me tightens. I'm glad I can not see his face from where he stands behind me.
"Well he's not, beat it." He growls. Chris sends him a withering glare before skittering away.
"You alright?" Dean murmurs. I nod shakily, reaching up to touch his hand.
"We can stop for the night, he probably won't show." Dean offers. I shake my head.
"I'm okay." I shut my eyes and take in a deep breath. Dean hesitates at my back for a moment before returning to the girl. She is waiting impatiently for him, long nails tapping on the sticky tables. He whispers something to her that makes her giggle, then his eyes find mine and the burn returns to my lower belly.
If I learned anything tonight, it was that I very much enjoyed Dean watching me from across a crowded bar.
The murderer we where hunting was becoming bolder with each kill. He hung around the most popular bars in the area, which is how Dean heard of him. He couldn't pass up the opportunity. Dean couldn't stay inactive for long, he got twitchy. It should frighten me more than it does that Dean gets antsy when he doesn't kill on a regular basis.
Dean's gaze lingers on mine, he leans close to the girl, whispering to her. She smiles before moving forward and kissing him slowly.
I suck in a startled breath through my teeth, nearly falling off the bar stool. Dean smirks at my reaction. He slides his hand into the girls hair and pulls her closer, kissing her deeply as she arches against him. His eyes refuse to leave mine even for a moment.
The light green of his eyes darken considerably with an emotion I can't decipher when I lick my lips, his gently coaxing kisses become rougher and I feel my spine prick.
I see a flash of his pink tongue tracing her lips, before sliding inside. Dean must taste like the hard liquor and cigarettes he's been sucking on all night.
I feel myself blush. I should look away, I should let Dean have his private time. We so rarely are apart that it's important to allow each other privacy. But Dean won't let me look away. His eyes are so intense and focused on me, if I looked away I might never forgive myself. Or even worse, Dean might never forgive me.
The girl lets out a breathy moan, and Dean's eyes flickered down to her for the first time. Jealousy springs up white hot in my chest, my nails dig into the flesh of my palm. I blink in shock. I'd never felt jealousy before so strongly.
I touched my racing heart, and Dean must have read the panic on my face because he pulled the girl away looking at me with concern.
Someone touches me before I can soothe him and ripples of disgust spread across my skin like a rash.
"Is this seat taken?" The man asks. He was younger, about Dean's age with greasy dark hair. His glasses were dirty, and he had a confidence about him that was smothering.
I felt bile rise into the back of my throat. I shakily shook my head, desperately forcing myself to stay seated. To not run into the bathroom and rip off the shirt he had touched. His pinky finger had touched my arm, and I wanted to scrub the skin raw.
I had to stay calm. Dean needed me to help him.
"I'm Noah." The man greeted, offering his hand. I look hard at my jeans, pretending I'm too shy to touch him. This makes him nearly giddy.
"Castiel-" I answer rapidly in my panic. I cursed myself, Dean had given me clear instructions not to give out my real name anymore. It was much too rare.
"Beautiful name. Biblical, isn't it?" Noah asked, eyeing me over his long thin nose. I nodded and he seemed pleased with himself.
"As is yours." I offer a weak smile and Noah returns it.
"Can I get you a drink?" Noah asks, I hold up my drink and he chuckles.
"I already have one." I inform, and this makes Noah laugh again.
"This won't do much for you." He waves his hand over my drink and I shrug, picking it up. I take a large sip to try and soothe my dry throat. I'm on my fourth gulp when Dean smacks the drink from my hand.
"Dean?" I yelp, watching the drink splash all over Noah. Noah jumps up and Dean grabs me.
"Let's go." He says, hiding his face from Noah who is yelling. He tugs on his sun glasses, hiding the still healing black eye.
"What's wrong?" I ask softly, and Dean holds me up when suddenly my knees get wobbly.
"Bastard roofied you." Dean grunts. I try and think back to how that could possibly be.
"I'm fine, Dean. Just a little-" Dean smells very nice suddenly. His scent is thick and masculine and wraps around me like a blanket of security. I moan softly and press against him.
"Cas?" His voice cracks and I find that hysterical.
"You are amusing." I comment, but it comes out slurred. I scowl, and try and search for my phone to text it out. My mouth feels funny, cottony. Nothing is making sense.
"Cas, come on. Stay with me." Dean struggles with my weight as he drags me across the parking lot. My legs trip over themselves. Dean heaves a sigh and lifts me up into his arms. I black out before we reach the car.
It's sounds like a tribe is holding a ceremony in my head with how loudly the pounding is pulsing against my temples. I groan softly into the pillow, burying my face into the warmth when the sun tries to pry at my eyelids.
I do not remember anything from last night and the thought is disorienting.
As my senses come back, I realize something heavy is draped over my lowerback. I can feel soft breath snoring against the top of my head. For a moment I think I may have gone home with a stranger and allowed them to ... touch me. The thought makes me so ill so suddenly my stomach seizes. I lurch back and the soft snores become familiar.
Dean grunts, brow knitting when I move away. He pulls me back against his chest and tucks me under his chin. I blink at his bare chest, golden freckles littering across the dense muscle.
Dean and I are ... cuddling.
I jerk back so swiftly I fall from the bed with a loud thump. Dean snorts and sits up, eyes panicked.
"What's wrong?" He croaks, voice hoarse from sleep.
"You, me-" I gesture between us and he looks down at his naked body, where the sheets pool around his trim waist. Dean has a beautiful figure. Where I was lithe with lean sinew, Dean was all bulk and strength. He looks down at to where his skin folded over his middle in little belly rolls that smooth out when he stretched.
"You don't remember last night?" Dean glowered, lines appearing on his forehead as he glared down at me. I stood up, twitching at the thought of all the germs I encountered on the floor of our dingy motel room. Thankfully I was still half asleep, I felt groggy. Why wasn't I having an attack?
"Not at all." I admit, chewing on my chapped lip. Dean stands and I press my palms over my eyes just as the sheet slips from his hips. Dean laughs at me, coming to stand too close.
"You don't remember what we did, Cas?" His fingers brush my elbows, the callouses catching on my softer skin. I tremble and shake my head. Had I lost my virginity? I didn't even remember a minute of it? Had we gotten drunk? I remembered helping Dean with the case, trying to track down the murderer.
"No, I do not." I peep, my voice low as Dean steps even further into my personal space. His nose brushes my temple as he speaks into my ear.
"That's a shame, I'll just have to show you again." Dean promises lowly. I gape behind my hands about to reject the offer when Dean falls back onto the bed in a fit of laughter.
"You're such a sap! What did you think I did? Fuck you?!" Dean barks out more laughter and I glare at him.
"Dean this is not amusing." I hiss, and this sends him into another fit. He's wearing boxers I realize and I glare at him for it.
"You should have seen your face! You looked like a freaking virgin!" Dean crows. I feel my cheeks go dark and so does Dean because he pauses in his loud laughter. Usually I find Dean's laughter soothing, but when it's directed at me it seems to have the opposite effect.
"No way." Dean murmurs dazedly.
"What?" I complain, moving around the room to tidy the mess from last night. Our clothes were strung around everywhere.
Dean slotted himself behind me, leaning in with a leer.
"You've never fucked before." He grins mischievously. I glare at my busy hands and don't answer him.
"It's none of your business." I snap when he presses closer. I shove him away and he barely takes a step back before dancing back around me.
"You can tell me, man. Who am I gonna tell? Sammy? I can call up the news station and let them know my hostage hasn't had his cherry pop-"
"Yes, Dean. I am a virgin." I whirl around staring up at him angrily. Dean usually isn't so prying. If I make to drop a conversation he usually follows my lead which is much appreciated, I don't see why he holds such a fascination with my sex life.
"Oh, man. I don't think I've ever even met a virgin before." Dean wheezes out another laugh, shooting me a glance under his eyelashes as he runs a hand through the front of his short messy hair.
"Yes, well. I'm sure you have actually met someone who has not fornicated." I bit out, gathering some clean clothes. My head it still foggy as I head to the bathroom.
After a long hot shower I rejoin Dean out in the room. He is sitting on his own bed now, lacing up his boots.
"May I ask why we were sharing a bed when their are two?" I ask tightly, still annoyed from Dean's earlier antics.
"The killer came to the bar last night, he tried to pick you up."
"And?" I pressed, Dean's shirt from last night was discarded on a chair and blood free.
"He roofied you. So I had to get you home. You know, keep an eye on yah' in case you choked on your own puke or something." Dean shrugged, cheeks going pink as he admits his worry. The mention of vomit brings back the sharp pang of memories, I shove them down.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean distract you from your work." I mutter, before scowling at myself. Honestly? I was apologizing for interrupting Dean's intended murder. I chastise myself as Dean crosses the room. He hooks a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
My breath steals from my lungs at how close we are. Dean's green eyes gleam in the dim morning light. He smirks down at me, as if reading my thoughts.
"You're more important. Besides," He heads towards the door, pulling out a wallet that did not belong to him.
"I'm a damn good pickpocket." He shuts the door behind him with a bang.
A/N: Hmm. What to do? What to do? Should their romance be slowburning/pining or fucking like bunnies? Maybe no romance at all? Just a weird twisted co dependent relationship. Tell me in the reviews what you wanna see.
