Seeing Castiel's Bad Side

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A/N: Guess what? We've made it to chapter 10! Thanks for sticking with me, and please review! I'm throwing in a change of point of view for kicks, and, oh my Dean, jealousy?

Tons of thanks go to drkpoenyx for being my beta.

For a moment James forgot where he was. For a brief moment he forgot he was crossing the street, forgot he was with hunters. For a brief moment he saw blunt nails scraping skin, needy mouth searching out another needy mouth, a shift and a muscled body was on top of a receptive, aroused one. Then the moment was over and James had to catch himself so that he might not appear as distracted as he was.

Normally reading others' sexual preferences was something mundane. He would spot a woman at a bar and he'd close his eyes and he'd delve into her psyche, where he might find James Franco, or John Cena. Occasionally he might find a lesbian, or a fetish for older men, leather, whatever. Sure, just being near someone usually gave him a little insight, enough so that large groups of people were uncomfortable and confusing. It was rare though, that another's fantasy could be so intense, so vibrant, so provocative…

Usually the fantasies of his prey were whispered softly into his ear the moment he was in their presence, and if they were too shy or too jumbled he searched inside them for some more information. Instead this fantasy had forced itself on him, had screamed out at him, and had rattled the cage in the subconscious that keeps such eroticism locked far away. It took him by surprise to realize that he was in the presence of a very desperate, lustful soul.

James could barely recall the last time a soul had pined so much for the object of its affection.

"You agree to kill the incubus when we find it?" Castiel's gaze flickered slightly over James.

James searched through the angel's blue eyes for any sign, and lustful symptom that said the fantasy belonged to him. When he didn't find it he sighed softly. "Yes, I'll drain him dry."

James let his mind wander when the hunters began to talk. He had little to offer in finding the incubus so he left that in their capable hands. His blue eyes roamed over Castiel's form. The idea that angels are beautiful is a load of bull. They are orbs of pure light with voices a hundred times more destructive than a siren. How can such a creature be beautiful? Angels are only as attractive as their vessels, and yet Castiel had a vessel worth admiring.

Not that James could see much below the trench coat, but hey, that's what imaginations are for. Castiel's vessel had classic good looks. A masculine shaped face, bright blue eyes and dark hair; it was a look that James had used when creating his body. In a way it impressed James when he noticed that the angel lost none of his attractiveness even when flanked by equally handsome men.

But really, a trench coat? A tie is one thing, it adds to the fantasy of roughly pulling someone towards you, of taking it off and tying wrists tightly in it. But a trench coat? It hides too much. How in the hell was anyone going to be able to checkout that ass if it was always hidden from view beneath that miserable coat?

The ease, in seduction, comes from knowing what the audience wants. The majority of people want neither a slut, nor a priest, so it's important to look at least somewhat classy while showing some skin. Hide too much, and your audience doesn't feel rewarded. Show too much, and your audience feels cheated out of the opportunity to use their imagination. Castiel clearly hadn't mastered the balance.

"The coat isn't glued on is it?"

The hunters and the angel turned to look at James. Dean's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

James tried again. "Cas, the coat, is it glued on?"

Cas cocked his head to the side and then rubbed the fabric of the coat between his thumb and forefinger. "No."

"So you can take it off?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Good to know…. Carry on…."

So there's hope for him yet, James mused. He looked the angel up and down quickly, and then slowed, letting his eyes wander on the way back down. Eyes passed where he imagined the angel's sternum was, over what would be smooth skin, past where he thought a perfect navel was, down-

A horn blared and James jumped for a moment. He had backed a yard or two until stepping off the edge of the sidewalk and into the street. He cursed for a second, trying to breathe. There had been emotions, distrust, anger, frustration, and they had rung through his head much like most fantasies did. He looked up wildly. Castiel was looking at him with confusion, and Sam looked the same.

Dean wasn't looking at him.

The older hunter had his body turned towards Castiel, his chin low so that he wasn't making eye contact with the angel.

"I have to go," James muttered.

For a moment James was afraid of Dean Winchester. He turned away, ran away. He breathed great gulps of air that he didn't need, he stumbled a few times in his haste, and he only stopped when he found himself alone. No sex, lust, or eroticism ringing throughout his head. He considered how strong the possessiveness would have to be for him to pick up on it. A warning to back off so strong it sent him stumbling into the road. He considered that it was Dean's fantasy. He considered the fact that romance was probably long dead for the hunter. He thought about how much Dean distrusted him and how that fantasy had been raw, and emotional, and desperate.

And for a brief moment James empathized with Dean, because there was a very human part of him that begged to be loved.

"Maybe we could go out to eat, stop at a diner, something other than bringing takeout home with us." Sam was sitting at the small table in their hotel room, laptop open. The clacking of the keys had paused for some time and Dean suspected that that meant he wasn't coming up with much in the "how to find an incubus" search.

"Yeah, we should probably take a break."

Sam startled a little, as though surprised Dean agreed, and then smiled as he stood up. "Find anything useful?"

"No. Except that if we were in the Amazon we'd be looking for a river dolphin that entices girls to swim naked with it."

Sam pulled on his coat and grimaced. "You know, the theory we're working on is that he kills these girls to cover his tracks after he loses control, but the impression I get from James is that they don't lose control. Sure, James could be lying, but he doesn't stand anything to gain from lying to us. The impression I get from James is that incubi feed, and then they move on. What is so wrong with this guy that he loses control?"

"He wants it too much," Dean murmured. He saw the way James looked up and down Cas, like he couldn't wait. "There's something wrong with this guy, he's ill, or too hungry." Dean and Sam made their way from the motel room, down the stairs, and across the parking lot to the car.

"We should call Bobby, see if he's heard anything about any hunters going after incubi, or hunters going through New Hampshire. If a hunter went after him and failed to kill him, the incubus might be trying to recuperate."

"Yeah, letting Bobby in is a good call. Hah, he gets antsy when he hasn't heard from us in a while." Dean opened the door to the Impala and slid into the front seat, starting the car.

Dean drove by a couple food joints that didn't look too promising, but in a way Dean enjoyed the time driving. Conversation with Sam was easier than usual, despite the way Dean's chest tightened every so often when he thought of Castiel. "I don't think Castiel should be alone with James."

"Huh?" Sam turned towards Dean and raised a brow. "Why?"

"Well you know, James says he doesn't have a preference. So, since he swings both ways, or I guess all ways, he can't really be trusted with Cas."

"You think Cas can't handle him?"

Dean chuckled. "Is that a trick question? Of course Cas can't handle him! Cas would send all the wrong signals, not even know he was sending signals, not recognize when James was sending signals. He'd probably accidentally turn James on or something." Dean remembered trapping Cas to his bed, the way the cerulean eyed angel leaned forward, fell onto his hands and knees.

Sam shrugged, but looked curiously at Dean. If Dean could suggest that someone could be turned on by Cas without Dean making some sort of gagging noise or mock disgust either meant that Dean was maturing or that Dean's perception of Cas was changing. "Cas hasn't even had sex with a woman, I highly doubt he'd let James deflower him."

"Isn't James just thinking about deflowering Cas bad enough?"

"Haha, so now we're just trying to protect Castiel's image?"

"Yes," Dean sighed. "No? I don't know, I just don't like the idea of James thinking he can have a go at Cas."

"To be fair, he's probably thought about having a go at you too."

Dean jerked slightly and turned to look at Sam, mouth gaping slightly. "What? No. No." He shook his head.

"Oh come on, he lives off of sex! You think you haven't crossed his man-whore mind?"

"No," Dean raised a hand and gestured vaguely. "Because I'm not gay, and even if I was, I would be a top, and since James is a top… well it just doesn't make any sense, he should be looking for a bottom, or something."

Sam let a sly smile make its way across his face. "You think James is a top?"

"Well yeah. Don't you?"

"Nah, he kind of comes off as a really demanding bottom, like a weird power-control bottom, a topping-from-the-bottom bottom. You know? A bossy, bitchy, relentless bottom."

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, which wasn't a great idea since he was still driving, and yet what Sam had said was too bizarre. "I think you should get your head checked, Sammy. Do you think about James often?"

"Apparently no more than you."

"Well," Dean pulled into a diner parking lot, "If he's thought about me, he's thought about you. How does that make you feel?"

Sam smiled and opened his door. "Flattered, haha."

A/N: I'd like to thank the reviewers who kicked by butt and reminded me to update this story.