Castiel was startled from his blissful stupor by the sharp honking of a car horn from outside. Sam. He is back.
Castiel's glow died as he lifted his head from the floor and looked left and right. Dean was snoring softly, head rested on Castiel's chest, arm and leg gently pinning him to the ground. So much sleep to catch up on , thought Castiel tenderly. His eyes scanned his human, appreciating every freckle, every contour, every soft breath caressing his chest. He smiled at the sticky pie leavings that painted his soft skin.
He shook his head, snapping himself out of his daydream. He reassessed the damage to the room, knowing that Sam could burst through the door at any moment and find them in the wreckage of their carnality. It looked bad, and he knew it. What would Sam say? How would Dean respond? There were too many unknown variables for Castiel to calculate the proper course of action. He carefully reached over with his free hand and gently shaked Dean to no effect. He pressed his lips together and tried to rouse Dean again, a little more vigorously.
"Just five more minutes…" mumbled Dean languidly, not registering Castiel's disquietude.
"Dean," prompted Castiel in a low voice, "you must wake up. Your brother-"
Dean's head popped up, eyes blinking slow and hard, and he said in a discombobulated voice, "What about Sam?"
"He is here, he is right outside," replied Castiel flatly. 'You need to get up."
Dean bolted upright, frantically felt up his torso with both hands to assess the situation. He looked down and saw his pie-covered body, sans clothes. He jerked his head around and saw the pie on the floor, on the chairs, on the table.
"Sonofabitch," he muttered. He tried to pop up onto his feet but caught his heel on a smear of marionberry and came down hard on his backside. "SONOFABITCH!" he said louder, panic creeping into his voice. His shot his gaze toward the angel. "A little help?" he asked, eyes wide.
Castiel rose to his feet, careful to sidestep any pie, and extended a hand down to his lover. Dean came to standing on shaky legs, still weak and stiff from his nap on the floor. He felt paralyzed. "Dammit, Cas!" he exclaimed in whisper tones. "What the hell do we do?"
Castiel also felt paralyzed, but not by fear. He knew he should move, act, do SOMETHING, but he couldn't. He was transfixed by the sight of his human, the lithe lines of his body, the pull of his chest muscles as his breath moved in and out. His full lips, his skin painted with the remnants of their passion, the flare of his green eyes, all of this anchored his gaze; he was tethered to Dean with longing.
"Cas!" hissed Dean in a panic. His friend stared at him ardently, lips barely parted, eyes slowly tracing up and down the contours of his body. He could see the angel bite the corner of his lip, oblivious to the precious seconds slipping by until… until what? What exactly are you afraid of, Dean? Sam? What's the worst he could do? Why do you care?
Suddenly, Dean's posture changed, his muscles slackened. He took two steps to close the gap between their bodies, and that movement awoke Castiel from his entrancement.
"Dean, I am sorry," words tumbled from his mouth, "I do not mean to bring you shame, I did not foresee what might come of this-"
Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck and gently pressed in for a kiss to calm the angel's nervous babbling. Castiel went stiff, unsure of the hows and the whats and the whys. He will see us, he will laugh at Dean,worried Castiel, mind racing. Dean will want to be alone, to think again.
Dean gently pulled his face back, stubble grazing stubble. He could feel the rigidity of Castiel's muscles, a look of helplessness and apprehension extinguishing the blue sparkle of his eyes. Their lips still grazed against one another as they shared each other's breath. Castiel's came shallow and panicked, but quickly he realized that Dean's did not match his pace. Dean's breath was slow, measured, and deep.
"Cas," he whispered, "it's okay-"
"But your brother-"
"If Sam doesn't like it, he can fuck right off."
Castiel's eyes rose to meet Dean's, and in them he could see a glimmer of mischief. He is not afraid , Castiel realized. He is proud . As a large smile spread across Castiel's face, so did a glow arise in his chest. Dean pulled him in tight to kiss every inch of that smile, cheek to cheek, and then pressed in deeper. Castiel's glow grew brighter as their tongues intertwined in the dizziness of freedom.
Suddenly, they could hear the door at the top of the stair bang open, and the sing-song voice of a woman called out, "HONEY! I'M HOOOOOMMME!"
Atop the stairs, Charlene stood, holding the door open for Sam with a genteel bow and an "After you, good sir!" She let the door swing closed behind and followed Sam out onto the landing, hopping joyfully and feeling alive, fucking alive! Bad is better than nothing, but good is decidedly best. She snatched up Sam's hand, and he turned and smiled at her, with one raised eyebrow that said, well here goes something . He led her down the stairs but then suddenly went rigid, squeezing her hand painfully.
"Sammy, what's wrong?" Charlene asked breathlessly. She examined his face, which was contorted in confusion, brows furrowed and mouth partly open, looking for words that just weren't there. His mouth opened wider as he tilted his head to one side, and she could see he was looking at something. She shoved him aside and looked over the railing and down into the main room.
The main room was large, appointed with a hodgepodge of thrift store furniture mixed with what appeared to be high-end antiques. The central feature of the room was a very large table covered in a map, and on the table were Castiel's pies. Well, some of his pies. Some of them were eaten, some partially eaten. Some were smeared all over the table. And the floor. Actually, there was pie everywhere. And in the center of it all stood Castiel, completely nude except for his cheap blue tie, covered in smears of pie. He was locked in a tight embrace with another man, strikingly handsome, also nude, also covered in pie. Castiel was glowing from the inside out as he and the other man snogged unabashedly like they were the only two people on the planet.
Sam snapped out of his paralyzing astonishment. He started to clear his throat, announce his presence, but Charlene whipped around and shot daggers from her eyes and she laid a single finger over her lips, you shut the hell up, Sam Winchester .
She slowly crept down the stairs, the voyeur in her taking over completely. She had never seen anything so bizarre, so breathtaking. The realities of magic, indeed! Had I known there was angel pie porn, I would have signed up much sooner. She stopped halfway down the stairs as she felt guilt creeping up inside of her. This is their special thing, and I'm here fucking ruining it because I want something "not normal".
She looked back up to Sam, sad-eyed, and he replied with a questioning look, well, now what? With that, Sam's foot missed a step and he stumbled into Charlene with a surprised shout that he did his best to muffle, but it sent her off balance and she would have tumbled down the stair had she not reached out and grabbed the banister just in time. Sam and Charlene shot wide-eyed glances at one another, and then down at the couple, and then back again.
Slowly, Dean and Castiel's lips parted, and they rested their foreheads together, eyes closed, centered by one another's breath. Castiel whispered softly with a smile, so that only Dean could hear, "How long should we make them wait? Make them watch?"
"I dunno, pal," Dean whispered back impishly. "Until it's not funny anymore?"
Castiel opened his eyes and slowly blinked at his human as his smile unfolded more, matching his inner radiance and then some. He looked away and up the stairs where he made eye contact with Sam and then-
"Charlene?" Castiel felt like he was hit in the head with something fluffy, like a pillow in a freshly washed slipcover. She just stared at him with an open-mouth smile that radiated pride. She lifted a hand and gave a emphatic thumbs-up. Dean looked up from the angel and saw her, and Sam, and flashed a big smile while simultaneously giving both of them a friendly middle finger. With that, they poofed away in a flash of static.
Both of them stood in silence for a few moments. "Hot damn!" exclaimed Charlene. "That was literally the most amazing thing I've ever seen." She spoke rapidly, manically. "Hands down. I mean, what? What in the actual fuck? What did we just see? Is that your 'normal'?"
"Nope," replied Sam plainly. "I can safely say I've never seen ANYTHING like that before."
"Can I just say how proud I am right now?" she said with a grin. "I knew Castiel was going to be fine, but I had no idea he had," she gestured broadly down into the main room, "THIS in him."
"So I should blame you for this mess?" Sam said with a smirk as he nodded his head down toward the table.
"That's not a mess," countered Charlene teasingly. "That's art!"
"It's something all right."
Charlene poked Sam in the chest and said, "Show me where the forks are. I'm STARVING."
Sam looked at her wide-eyed.
"C'mon, Sammy, I'm not going to eat their sex pie off the floor! There are plenty of… unmolested pies left over," she said with a snort. With that, she took Sam by the hand and led him down the stairs, keeping her other hand gliding over the railing for security. At the bottom she walked right into the middle of the mess and slowly turned around, imagination running wild.
Sam trudged into the kitchen to retrieve the requested fork, and his mind raced. Cas was smiling. His brother looked happy. They clearly had sex, and that sex involved pie. Now that their feelings were requited, was this the new way of things? He had so many questions, but he had a feeling neither Castiel nor Dean had sufficient answers to give him, at least not yet. He pulled a fork from a drawer, then thought better of it and decided to get a second one. He was hungry as well, possibly enough to enjoy sex-adjacent pie.
He came back out to find Charlene crouching amidst the destruction, analyzing something on the floor. Upon closer inspection he realized that it was a sticky, purple handprint.
"Goddammit, I am NOT cleaning this up," he mumbled, handing Charlene her fork.
"Just a minute," she said, pulling her phone from her pocket. She started taking pictures, of the handprint, the table, the pie on the floor. Sam just stared, unsure of what was happening.
"I'm recording this for posterity. You said it yourself, you've never seen anything like this before." She scrunched her face to suppress a smile. "We need need to add this to the Angel Lore."
Sam raised an eyebrow.
She continued, smirking, "or at the very least make a scrapbook to give as a gift on their first anniversary."
"Huh," replied Sam, nonplussed.
"Sammy, are you not diverted?" she asked, voice edged with the slightest bit of confusion.
Sam sighed softly, walked around the table, and pulled out one of the chairs not splattered with pie. He sat down with a barely audible "harrumph", dug a bite out of one of the intact pies and shoved it into his mouth petulantly.
Charlene found a clean spot on the table near Sam and sat atop it, taking the extra fork and stealing a bite of pie. They are in silence, eyes unfocused as their minds raced. Finally, Charlene spoke up.
"Sam, why are you not absolutely over the moon right now?" she asked incredulously. Sam suddenly felt deeply ashamed; he'd never heard her use that tone before. She was disappointed in him.
"I dunno…" he mumbled. "This is just a lot to take in."
"Is it, though?" she asked pointedly. "You told me this was a long time coming."
His voice took on a defensive edge. "I said I knew about this for a long time, but I didn't think anyone would actually ACT on it. I was excited at first, really I was, but… I haven't prepared for this. I haven't thought out the ramifications. So now," he said, gesturing to the mess of the room, "I need to figure out the next steps. I've been thrown into the deep end of the angel pie-sex pool and all I can do is doggie paddle."
"Or," added Charlene dryly, "you could just trust your brother."
Sam looked down at his fork and didn't reply.
Charlene set down her fork and placed a hand on Sam's arm.
"You're not going to lose him, you know that, right? Things are going to better now. More interesting." She smirked, "more pie-larious."
Sam exhaled through his nose with a sharp puff. Charlene took a breath in, let her eyes close, and then sang softly, down tempo, in her low and sultry voice.
"On a stormy sea of moving emotion, tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean. I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say," she opened her eyes and smiled, "carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."
Sam's eyes jumped up to meet Charlene's, and he knew what she said was true. Things would be better now. Messier definitely, with more drama, but Dean had done so much for him and he deserved this. He deserved something good.
He smiled. "Seriously, though, did you see them? Absolutely covered in pie."
"Looked like a good time to me," countered Charlene with a wink.
Suddenly, the lights in the room flared and dimmed as a low rumbling sound vibrated the hall.
Charlene looked around and smiled, then picked up her fork to salute. "To the new normal!"
"Here, here!" replied Sam with a grin.