nightrider101 (nightrider101) wrote,

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FIC: The Evolution of a Relationship (1/1)

Title: The Evolution of a Relationship
Author: NightRider
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean/Cas, Sam, Bobby and Gabriel
Betas: A massive thank you to souleswanderer and kodamasama
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural and no money was made from writing this story.
Summary: Relationships are a collection of events, some small and some large, that progress to make something greater. Unless you hunt monsters for a living and happen to be dating an angel of the Lord.
A/N: This was written for idiosyncratic for the deancas_xmas exchange. Sex and kink was requested. I hope I delivered.

September 12th

“Cas,” Dean moaned, trying to pull Cas down to encourage as much skin on skin contact as possible.

“Patience, Dean,” Cas murmured, his breath warm against Dean’s ear. Dean tried to hook his leg around Cas’s waist, but the angel was quicker and his hand grabbed Dean’s ankle, easing him back down to the bed. Nimble fingers lingered against his leg, languishing slowly up his calf, over his inner thigh, dancing over his stomach and up his chest.

“If you don’t hurry up –“

The promised threat was never finished because Cas resumed kissing Dean’s throat with all the attention and consideration of…well, an angel, Dean supposed.

Teasing hips pressed against Dean’s for a fraction of a second, and Dean tried to lift his body, to press the evidence of his need against Cas.

“Patience,” Cas repeated. It was still new, their fledgling relationship only just past its starting point, and Cas wanted to savor it; he wanted it to be something Dean would remember, something that was more than just a fleeting encounter in a no name motel in the middle of rural Nebraska.

Unfortunately, Dean was never known for his patience. He reached for Cas, his fingers grasping for the white collared shirt, as Cas’s hips pressed against his own.

There was a growl from somewhere above him, and Dean’s hands were removed and pressed against the bed, fingers remaining wrapped around his wrists. Dean tugged against Cas’s hold as the angel bent down to continue his exploration of Dean’s body.

Dean tugged again, his shoulders rising as he tried to gain leverage. Nothing. Anxiety clawed its way down his spine as his heart pounded against his chest. “Cas?”

Teeth nibbled along his collarbone. “Hm?”

Dean tried a third time to free himself, twisting his upper body and kicking his legs. Cas didn’t move and neither did Dean. “Let me go.”

Cas lifted his head, blue eyes shining in the darkness. ”Dean –"

“I said let me go,” Dean repeated in a tone that could have sheared steel.

Cas released his wrists immediately, sliding off him and the bed to stand on the floor. “I apologize. I thought –“

Dean had wanted this, hadn’t he? He’d fantasized about being helpless, being completely at his lover’s mercy, but he never expected that lover to be an angel, and someone who was perfectly capable of holding Dean perfectly still with no more than a flick of his wrist.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas said, disappearing in a flutter of wings before Dean could say anything, before he could explain.

Dean always imagined it would be exhilarating, but in actuality, it scared the crap out of him. He had been totally at Cas’s mercy, and his thoughts flashed back to Hell, to his time on the rack when he was completely powerless. He thought he was ready, but he wasn’t, not for this.

Really, if he was honest with himself, it came down to trust, and if Cas’s look when he left was any indication, he knew Dean didn’t trust him. Dean hoped Cas caught the implicit ‘not yet’ that was tacked on.

September 21st

Three ghosts and four vampires later, they stumbled back to the hotel room in eastern bumfuck North Dakota. Actually all of North Dakota was basically bumfuck USA. And if he was going to be honest, Dean stumbled and Cas shouldered most of his weight.

“You didn’t have to come,” Dean muttered after Cas all but tossed him on the bed.

Cas glared at him. “Don’t be an idiot, Dean. Where else would I be?”

Dean scratched at the dried blood behind his ear. “Don’t know. Ruling heaven?”

“I do not –“ expressive quotation marks - “rule heaven.”

Dean gave him a teasing grin. “Face it, Cas. You’ve become the man.”

“I do not understand that reference.” He watched as Dean tried to struggle out of his tee shirt, and he stepped forward to ease the abused clothing over Dean’s head. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the expansive bruises coloring Dean’s chest. “I could heal you, you know.” It was the sixth time he’d offered.

Dean shrugged, wincing at the motion. “Seems kind of like cheating, you know?”

“How is it cheating when I’m offering? I’m an archangel, Dean, and apparently I’m also ‘the man’ as you put it.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dean muttered.

Cas’s eyes narrowed further. “Is that a problem?” It hadn’t been a problem when they started whatever it was they started several weeks ago. If anything, they’d been dancing around this for the better part of three years. It wasn’t like it was any great shock that Cas was an angel. Dean could feel it, deep within his bones. He could be blind and he’d still know who and what Cas was.

“It’s not your responsibility,” Dean said flatly.

Cas didn’t tell him that yes, actually, it was. “I don’t like to see you in pain.”

That was something Dean could understand because every part of his body screamed when someone he cared about was in pain, was suffering, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Maybe Dean was being selfish, forcing Cas to see him like this when, with just the casual brush of two fingers, he’d be healed and whole once again, but Dean couldn’t help it, and the last thing he wanted was for Cas to think Dean only wanted him around for his curative abilities.

“Let’s take your mind off it, then,” Dean said, his eyes glittering as he reached for the ever present trench coat. As far as pick up lines go, it was pretty far down the lame scale, but luckily Cas didn’t know any better.

If Cas was surprised, he didn’t show it when their lips clashed and sharp breaths were exchanged for moans. Cas turned Dean around, taking their weight as they collapsed on the bed. The pace was slow, the motions gentle, and they brought each other to climax with their hands. And if Cas happened to heal Dean’s injuries in the process, well, no one mentioned it.

October 5th

They laid together intertwined in the darkness somewhere east of I75 in Georgia. “So, Jimmy’s gone now,” Dean said quietly.

They’d talked about it before, more than once, but for whatever reason, Cas figured Dean needed to hear it again. “Yes, he’s in Heaven,” Cas replied.

Dean nodded and folded his arm behind his head, fiddling with the cheap quilt with his other hand. “That’s good.”

“I visit him from time to time.”

Dean lifted his head, blinking at the new information. “You never told me that.”

Cas, oblivious as ever, blinked back. “I don’t tell you everything, Dean.”

Dean scooted to the side, widening the space between him and Cas. “Whatever.”

“I’m beginning to hate that word,” Cas muttered, his hand dropping to the warm spot where Dean’s body was seconds ago. The cold was palpable and Cas considered dragging Dean back to his rightful place, where their shoulders were brushing against each other, their fingers intertwined. Despite his experiences as a falling angel, the whirlwind of human emotions was like trying to navigate a minefield, and he tried, heaven knew he tried, but he felt as if everything he said was met with resistance, and every word he spoke was somehow wrong. Relationships were wrought with lines and boundaries, with rules and expectations.

He opted for the one thing he knew was true, and he hoped Dean would believe him. “He’s happy,” Cas said quietly after Dean had rolled over, giving what Cas assumed was the cold shoulder. Sam had explained the gesture to him so he would be aware of the indications. “He has found peace, and -“ Cas swallowed, a human gesture that had stayed with him – “he knows his sacrifice is appreciated.”

“Yeah? How does he know that?” Dean muttered, his shoulders tense.

“Because I told him,” Cas replied.

“Cas,” Dean began, rolling over and reaching for – nothing. In a flutter of displaced air, the angel was gone.

October 17th

Dean and Sam had been fighting for what felt like hours, slicing and dicing, ducking and twisting, and exercising whenever possible. Only two of the five demons remained, and Dean tried to tuck his shoulder in to cushion his fall as he was thrown across the room.

“Dean!” Sam yelled.

“M’ all right,” Dean called back, rolling to his feet and thinking, not for the first time, that he was getting too old for this shit. He blinked against the darkness, trying to bring the warehouse back into focus. Sam emerged from the shadows, a hand around his throat. The demon sneered at him through the eyes of what appeared to be an NFL linebacker. Awesome.

“Dean Winchester,” the demon whispered, his voice like honey despite the hulking frame it emerged from. “Nice to see you again.”

“The pleasure’s all yours,” Dean muttered. “Let my brother go.”

“Are the angels sending you to do their dirty work now?” the demon spat. “What are you? Heaven’s cleanup crew?” The hand on Sam’s throat tightened, knuckles turning white, and Sam choked, the sound seizing and dying against the confines that held him in place.

“That would be me.” It sounded like gravel, too deep and rough to be human, and to Dean it sounded like a particular angel who was definitely not amused. He was never going to complain about Cas’s timing again. There were footsteps, someone running away, and Dean figured it was the other demon trying to make a break for it. Fuckin’ coward.

“What?” the demon growled, backing up to an outstretched hand that caught his shoulder. He released Sam instantly.

“Heaven’s cleanup crew,” Cas said. He met Dean’s gaze. “Close your eyes.” Dean slammed his eyes closed, the bright light bleeding through his eyelids regardless, a scream echoing around him. Dean kept his eyes closed trying to crawl in the direction he remembered Sam falling after the demon had released him.

He heard Cas from somewhere above him. “It’s safe now.” Dean sat back on his knees, opening his eyes and blinking through the brightness that wasn’t there anymore. Cas grabbed Sam by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet with one hand. Sam swayed, swallowing hard, and Cas brushed two fingers to his forehead, the marks on his neck fading away.

“Wow, Cas,” Sam murmured, rubbing his fingers gingerly over his throat.

Dean, who was still on his knees, didn’t notice Cas glaring at him from several paces away. What he did notice was Cas’s hand that was still on his brother’s shoulder, lingering there until he was sure the man had his footing.

What Dean wanted to say was something along the lines of ‘thank you for saving my brother’ or ‘thank you for saving our asses yet again’ or even ‘you’re totally a badass mother fucker, and why are you with me again?’ Unfortunately, that’s not what he said. What he did say was, “’Bout time you showed up.” Dean was never very good at expressing his feelings.

Cas’s eyes narrowed further, glaring in what could only be construed as a smiteful manner. “Perhaps if you had called me first, I would have known where to find you.”

“I told you we should have called him,” Sam muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean his patented bitchface.

“Wasn’t necessary, Sammy,” Dean said, pushing to his feet and taking a quick step forward to keep from falling flat on his face. “I was about to make my move.”

“Whatever,” Sam grumbled, turning to Cas. “Even though he won’t say it, thank you. Seriously, man, thank you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, bumping against Sam’s shoulder as he walked past. “Let’s get out of here before Sam decides we need a group hug or something.”

The ride to the motel room was quiet save the occasional question from Sam about what was going on in Heaven and the odd crack about how Dean was an unappreciative, emotionally stunted teenager. No one asked why Cas had opted to ride with them when he could have flown.

Dean returned from the motel office, eyeing Sam as he approached the Impala. “You sure you’re all right?”

Sam nodded. “Great, actually. The twinge in my shoulder from the vamp hunt is gone, too.” He rolled his left shoulder a couple of times and grinned.

“Good,” Dean replied, tossing him a key. “You’re in 16.” He looked at Cas. “Room 14.”

“Good night, Sam,” Cas said and disappeared with a flap of his invisible wings.

Sam smirked, tossing Dean his duffel bag. “Thank you,” Sam said, his tone mocking. “Say it with me now, thank you. It’s just two words, man. Even a hardhead like you can do it. T-H-A-“

“Shut up, Sammy.”


The U was swallowed by the slam of a motel room door.

Cas was standing in the middle of the room, his arms pressed against his sides. Deep, blue eyes that spoke of other-worldliness glowered at him. Dean dropped his bag on the floor and turned around to lock the door.

He was a step away from Cas when the angel started. “Demons, Dean. You went after demons without –“ lips crashed against the rebuke – “so much as –“ a tongue slipped past during what was supposed to be a righteous tirade – “calling…mmph.” Dean pulled his trench coat off without his tongue stopping its insistent exploration. Cas’s shirt was lost somewhere between the middle of the room and the bed, and his belt was cast aside seconds before his body hit the mattress. Cas’s pants were tugged off before Dean collapsed on top of him, one hand threading through his hair, the other digging into his shoulder. There was no denying that Cas was pissed off, and maybe it wasn’t assent as such, but the light blinked off above them, and the room fell into darkness.

Dean thought he heard something about reckless stupidity while he was kissing down Cas’s chest. There might have been a vivid description of smiting when Dean nipped his inner thigh, and perhaps a belated promise to finish this discussion in the morning when Dean licked down his hardened shaft, but what Dean would swear to, what he knew he heard was, “Oh. Yes, Dean. Yes,” as his thighs fell open and Dean swallowed him whole.

It wasn’t a thank you, per say, but Dean hoped he got the point.

November 5th

They were watching a movie, settled on the bed together as Dean took a long pull from his beer. Sam had chatted up their pretty waitress at the diner earlier, and she’d invited him to go bowling after she got off work. Apparently bowling was what the kids were calling it these days. Sam had left the motel room an hour ago with a smirk and a don’t wait up.

This time there were no injuries to be seen to, no discussion of future hunts or vague prophecies. It was just a guy and his angel having a drink and hanging out.

“This sucks,” Dean muttered, watching Bruce Willis roll underneath a table, his gun still firing an impossible amount of bullets.

“You love this movie,” Cas replied, his eyebrow scrunching together as if he were trying to understand the point.

“They’ve edited out all the good parts,” Dean grumbled, grabbing the remote and clicking the television off.

The room fell silent; the only light was the flicker of the neon green vacancy sign outside the motel room window.

This time there was no hesitancy or cheesy pick up lines when Dean reached for Cas, his hand wrapping around the angel’s neck pulling him down against the bed. The casual kisses grew more insistent, caressing hands more urgent, and clothes were divested and cast aside.

“Cas?” Dean murmured, his lips mouthing across Cas’s ribcage.

Fingers carded through Dean’s hair. “Yes, Dean?”

“Can I –“ he nipped at the soft skin of Cas’s belly – “um – try something?”

Cas sensed his hesitancy. “Whatever you want.” His fingers tightened against Dean’s scalp, tugging on the soft hair until Dean raised his eyes, their gazes locking. “Anything you want.”

Dean smiled, Cas’s trust warming his heart. “Okay, good.”

He kissed Cas’s stomach, Dean’s tongue dipping into his belly button before he continued lower, unhurried. Cas opened his legs without encouragement and Dean settled between them. He focused his attention on Cas’s inner thighs, pointedly ignoring his hardened shaft despite the hand that was threaded through his hair tugging him in that direction.

Dean shifted his weight, leaning on one arm so he was hovering over Cas. “Open,” Dean said, his own dick twitching when Cas’s mouth fell open instantly. He slid two of his fingers in Cas’s mouth, the warm tongue circling each finger.

He resettled between Cas’s legs, swallowing hard. “If this hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.”

Cas lifted his head. “You can’t hurt me, Dean.”

Well, yeah, but that wasn’t the point. “I wanna make you feel good.”

Cas didn’t respond, simply sinking back against the pillow. He rubbed his heel down Dean’s thigh until he couldn’t reach any further.

Dean kissed the soft skin just above his hip, his right hand disappearing between Cas’s legs. He teased at the entrance, his fingers sliding up and down, circling and drawing soft moans from the angel above him.

His first finger entered slowly, pausing when Cas tensed around him. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

The heel was back to pressing against his thigh, rougher this time. “No. Continue, please.”

Dean chuckled, sliding a second digit in. “Remind me to teach you how to talk dirty, Cas.”

“You like the way I talk,” Cas replied, all confidence.

When Dean slid a third finger in and curled them just so, there wasn’t much talking after that.

November 23rd

Sam held Dean by his leather jacket, pressing him against the side of the wall to keep him from falling over. They’d gotten separated an hour ago when Dean had taken to the sewer to look for the shapeshifter. In his defense, there was only supposed to be one. He’d gotten them both, though, thank you very much. Sam arrived a few minutes later, gun drawn.

“I can’t believe you forget your cell phone,” Sam muttered, pressing his hand against Dean’s chest as he reached into his pocket for his phone. For a second he thought he heard something about a hospital, and if Sam’s quick notation of their location and if the seriousness of Dean’s injuries were any indication, the bitch had called an ambulance.

He reached blindly for the phone, coming up empty. “I don’t need an –“ The rest of that statement was swallowed by the soft flutter of wings and steel blue eyes. Dean’s eyes widened, surprise etched on his face.

Sam didn’t move his hands from Dean’s jacket. “Hey, Cas.”

“Sam,” Cas acknowledged, his gaze traveling from Dean’s soaked shoes, up his tattered shirt to his blood covered face. “Dean.” Sam kept his hold on Dean as Cas stepped forward, swiping his fingers across Dean’s forehead.

“This is becoming a habit,” Cas said, his hand falling back to his side.

Dean stood up straight and shrugged out of Sam’s grasp. “Hey, I wasn’t the one that called you.”

“Appreciation, Dean,” Sam muttered.

Cas stepped back when Dean pushed by. “I must return to Heaven.” He looked at Sam. “I was in the middle of something when you called.” There was a soft flutter and he appeared directly in front of Dean who had made it a good twenty paces away. “I will see you tonight.”

“Don’t do me any –“ Cas was gone before he could finish. “Damn angels.”

The ride to the motel was a quiet one, but Sam was speaking volumes with his death glare. “Tell me again why you’re being such an asshole?”

“We’re not talking about this,” Dean growled, turning up the volume on the radio. Two seconds later Sam reached forward and turned it off. “Dude, what the –“

“You’re being a jerk, Dean.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t get you, man. Finally, finally something good happens to you, and you’re being a complete asshole about it.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel, and he glared at the road. “I said leave it alone.”

“No,” Sam replied. “I’m not going to leave it alone. Cas cares about you, Dean. I mean really cares, and you won’t acknowledge it. It’s like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop or –“ He paused when he saw the barest shift in Dean’s expression. “Oh my god. You are, aren’t you? Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Sam collapsed against the seat, his fingers tapping the arm rest as if this were a mystery only his massive brain could piece together. He sat up straight, turning to face Dean. “You didn’t think he’d come.”

“Come off it, already.”

“Bullshit. I saw your face. Well, what I could see of it through all the blood. You were surprised.”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

Sam, forever perseverant, marched on. “You need to come to terms with this. So you’re fucking an angel –“

The car swerved slightly when Dean punched his shoulder. “Sam!”

“What?” Sam snapped. “Your hang-up, not mine.”

“I’m not fucking him.” Not technically. Maybe more or less. Fucking was a pretty diverse term if he thought about it, and why the hell was he talking about this with his brother again?

Sam’s pissed off expression morphed into something else entirely. “Well, you should be.”

They arrived at the motel that they’d been staying at for several days. “I’m getting my own room,” Sam announced when he rolled out of the car.

“You don’t have to.”

Sam glared at him over the roof of the Impala. “Yeah, I do.” With that, Sam stomped off in the direction of the office.

“Drama queen,” Dean muttered.

He showered and brushed his teeth before collapsing on the bed and turning on the television. After surfing through the modest list of channels twice, he gave up and turned the television off. He was halfway asleep when he felt the bed shift.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Cas beat him to it. “I’m not very good at this.”

Dean groaned, wrapping an arm around the angel and tugging him closer. “Can we not talk about this?”

Cas shifted so they were pressed against each other, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. “I’m sorry –“

“Because you should totally apologize for putting my ass back together. Again.”

Sarcasm was wasted on the angel. “I wasn’t going to apologize for that,” he replied, his voice firm. “However, I upset you, and I’d like to know what I did.”

There was a massive chick flick conversation looming on the horizon, and Dean would do anything to avoid it. “It’s not you, it’s me.” His jaw dropped, and he groaned against Cas’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“You’ve said worse things,” Cas pointed out helpfully.

“Good point.”

Cas rolled on his side, his eyes watching Dean carefully. “You weren’t so averse to angelic assistance in the past.”

Dean shifted, folding one arm behind his head. “Yeah, well, things were different then.”

Cas narrowed his eyes, and in a tone Dean knew far too well, said, “You didn’t think I’d come.”

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know what I thought. Guess you just surprised me.”

Blue eyes flashed with restrained power when he said, “I’ll always come for you, Dean.” And in a very unangelic way, he added, “Get over it.”

Dean chuckled, something in his chest sliding and clicking into place. Yeah, he could do this. All of it.

December 16th

Heaven’s cleanup crew was at it again. Dean was upstairs, fighting for all he was worth, and Sam was downstairs with Cas, exorcising and smiting as they went. Another abandoned warehouse in Colorado, and could someone please explain why it always had to be a freaking abandoned warehouse? At least it wasn’t a church.

Dean couldn’t get the smell of sulfur out of his nose as he rolled away from the demon who was parading around in a teenage girl with pigtails. He heard Sam yelling Cas’s name, and Dean tried to get closer to the railing to see what the heck was going on below him. The demon lunged for him, and he backed away, unwilling to risk falling over the ledge.

Dean had taken a painful knock to the head right after this started. He stepped back, pulling out Ruby’s knife and maintaining a defensive posture. The demon glanced at the knife. “Do you think that’s going to work on me?”

“Why don’t you come closer and we’ll find out?” Dean blinked the blood out of his eyes, focusing on the demon that was circling him playfully. His head hurt like hell and being thrown up a flight of stairs hadn’t helped either.

The demon lunged again, and Dean evaded her easily, trying to lure her to the middle of the room. He hadn’t expected the sharp pain exploding into his shoulder. Stab wounds always felt the same way, and they hurt like hell. Pun intended. He swallowed his scream, pivoting on his foot and jabbing Ruby’s knife into the chest of his attacker.

“Two for the price of one,” Dean said, sneering as the demon fizzled and died in front of him.

“Foolish boy,” the demon chided. “I’m still standing.”

“Well, come and get me, bitch.” The demon took a step towards him, her body freezing and her mouth curving down. Dean gestured to the ceiling. “Honestly, I thought you guys would have caught on to that trick by now.” Dean exorcised the demon quickly, sending the bastard back to Hell where it belonged. The girl collapsed on the floor, thankfully unconscious.

Dean managed to stumble to the top of the staircase, but Cas and Sam were already halfway up, taking the stairs two at a time. Even with the blood loss jumbling his thoughts, Dean wondered why Cas hadn’t flown. It was quicker.

“You all right?” Sam asked, reaching for his brother. Dean kept his eyes on Cas.

Despite his archangel status, Cas was struggling to heal himself, blood staining the normally pristine white shirt. He’d already healed Sam; that much was obvious because Sam had a couple of impressive holes in his shirt and no injuries to show for it.

“What happened?” Dean asked, allowing Sam to shoulder most of his weight.

Sam followed his gaze to Cas, who had his hands pressed to his knees and was breathing heavily. “I don’t know. One of the demons had some kind of special knife designed to hurt angels.”

Cas stood up, trying to mask his pain, and he was now purposefully moving towards Dean, two fingers already outstretched.

“No,” Dean growled, sliding out of Sam’s hold and backing away.

Cas took another step forward, his eyes narrowing, confused. Hadn’t they gotten past this? “Now is not the time for –“

Dean saw the pain in his eyes, the concealed ache throbbing just out of reach. Whatever that demon had stabbed Cas with had hurt him, had hurt the angel lurking just below the surface. “Heal yourself first.”

Chapped lips twisted downward. “Dean, I’m –“

“Damn it, Cas, I said no!” Dean barked, dodging Cas’s hand and stumbling away.

Sam watched the scene with wide eyes. If this little display wasn’t a declaration of undying love, Sam didn’t know what was. There were no words, of course, because this was Dean and Cas, but what there was, was a wounded angel chasing around his equally wounded brother with some freaky Star Trek two finger mind meld thing going on. If they both lived through this, Sam was going to laugh about it later.

And then, because God or whoever might be watching them hated them, Cas stumbled, going down on one knee, his eyes slamming closed just as Dean leaned against the railing, the battered wood giving way, and he collapsed backwards off the ledge and fell to the first floor.

Maybe God didn’t hate them quite so much because at that precise moment when it all went to shit, yet again, Gabriel showed up. Gabriel stood over his brother, rolled his eyes, and said to take them to Bobby’s. He disappeared with the teenage girl in his arms.

Bobby hadn’t said a word except, “Idjits,” when Sam had delivered his unconscious brother and equally unconscious resident archangel to his doorstep. With Bobby’s help, they managed to manhandle them both to the spare bedroom. It hadn’t been pretty.

They’d both slept for the better part of the day. Sam had taken the necessary bathroom breaks, and when he returned to the room the third time with a sandwich in hand, all of Dean’s injuries were gone and Cas was standing over the bed, healthy and whole.

“I’m going to speak with my brother,” Cas announced and disappeared before Sam could open his mouth.

“Okay then,” Sam said to the space where Cas had been standing. He settled on the wooden chair to enjoy his lunch.

Dean woke up an hour later and managed to extract the entire story from Sam in less than three minutes.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sam asked. He’d already made Dean lift up his shirt twice so he could check for hidden injuries.

“I said I was fine. You could, you know, make me a sandwich if you wanted to help.”

Sam was a second away from telling his brother to get his own damn lunch, but the image of Dean falling over the broken railing was still fresh in his mind. He sighed, and Dean grinned, knowing he’d won. “Turkey or roast beef?”

“You have to ask? Where’s the beef?”

Sam rolled his eyes and left the room. He returned a few minutes later and dropped the plate in Dean’s lap.

“You sure Cas is okay?” Dean asked, pushing himself up against the headboard.

“I’ve already told you, he’s fine. He was doing that whole inhuman staring thing when I got back to the room.”

Dean set the plate aside and stretched his arms over his head. When he’d settled, he fixed Sam with a pointed look. “All right. Let’s have it.”

Sam looked at him curiously. “Have what?”

“The speech. The whole ‘you should have let him heal you, show some appreciation, thank you is spelled T-H-A-N-“

Sam cut across him. “I get it. You can shut up now.”

Dean waved his hand. “So, where is it?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m fresh out of speeches.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Christo.”

“I’m not possessed, you dumbass.”

“Speeches are your thing, Sammy. You know you love to point out all my faults. You’ve been doing it since you were four.”

Dean hadn’t been ready for Sam’s compassionate face. “I get it, man. What you did – I understand. He was hurt, and you wanted him to take care of himself first.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Dean grumbled, looking away.

Sam smiled, his voice teasing when he said, “Well, falling over the railing was a bit over the top, but I always knew you were a drama queen.”

Dean yawned, but managed to wheeze out the necessary, “Bitch.”

“Get some sleep, jerk. Bobby and I will be talking shit about you downstairs if you need us.”

Sam closed the door on the obligatory middle finger Dean had raised in his direction.


Pacing wasn’t a behavior that angels typically performed, but Cas found the activity comforting, and he passed by Gabriel for the seventeenth time.

“Listen, little bro, that idiot you call – well, whatever you call him, saved your ass,” Gabriel said, sucking far too loudly on a lollipop as he watched Cas stalk by.

“He should have let me heal him,” Cas repeated, his eyes challenging as he stopped to glare at Gabriel.

“What, so you could die, too? Kinda selfish, don’t you think?” Gabriel replied.

“I’m selfish because I want him to live?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I get it. You guys have this whole wounded hero, self sacrificing thing going on. It’s cute. Really, it is, but as long as he’s hunting, you’re going to have to expect this.” He sighed when Cas’s expression went from annoyed to confused. “Anyway, you should be happy. This whole debacle is Winchester for ‘I really, really care about you. Watch while I heroically sacrifice myself on your behalf!’”

“He doesn’t understand the depth of my power,” Cas muttered, eyes flashing. They were isolated in the forest, and Cas suddenly stretched his wings simply because he could, flashes of light touching the treetops.

Gabriel smirked. “You could show him, you know.”

“And burn his eyes out of his skull?” Cas snapped.

“Listen, what the two of you do between the sheets is –“

“Gabriel,” Cas admonished.

Gabriel rubbed his hand over his face. “You’re just as bad as he is.”

“I do not understand –“

Gabriel widened his forefinger and thumb to about an inch apart. “I’m this close to smiting you.” Their power was more equally matched now, but Cas wouldn’t put it past him to try. Gabriel had done worse to make smaller points.

“Good bye, Gabriel,” Cas announced, spinning on his heel.

There was a firm hand on his shoulder before he disappeared. “Here’s the deal, bro. You two have fought long and hard for this and –“ his face contorted as if he was in pain –“whatever. You should have it. You can have it.”

Cas cocked his head to the side and Gabriel’s hand fell away. “I – thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”


Dean jerked his head up, a shadow falling across the room where Cas filled the open doorway.

“Cas –“ The rest of that statement was swallowed up by fingers wrapping around his shoulders and lips crushing against his own. “The door,” Dean murmured between forceful kisses. The door slammed closed, the house shaking around them. “Dude, keep it –“

“Bobby and Sam aren’t here,” Cas replied, pulling Dean’s shirt over his head.

Dean tugged his arms out of the sleeves. “You sent them away?”

“I said I wished to speak with you. Alone.”

Dean swallowed at the heaviness of Cas’s words, the sternness that sent heat sweeping down his body. “Oh. Well, what’d you want to talk about?”

Cas put his hands on either side of Dean’s ribcage and pulled him down the bed so his head thumped against the pillow. “Or we could not talk. You know, whatever you want.”

Cas glared down at him, fire in his eyes. “Dean, shut up.”

Dean smirked, his eyes glittering. “Make me.” And there it was. The challenge, the invitation – hit me with your best shot.

Cas brought his knees up so he was sitting across Dean’s hips, pressing him against the bed. “All right.” He took Dean’s left hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his palm before stretching his hand out, pressing it against the mattress near the far corner of the bed. “Stay.” He offered the same attention to the right hand, pressing it to the bed before settling over Dean’s thighs.

Dean chuckled. “You’re overestimating my self control, Cas.” He tried to move his hands, his eyes widening. Holy shit. No ropes, handcuffs or chains required, apparently. It was good, though. Better than good, and Dean relaxed against the pillow. Cas continued to stare at him, blue eyes assessing, calculating and perhaps worshiping, studying every square inch of Dean’s body. “So are you going to get this show on the road, or you just gonna eye-fuck me to death?”

How Cas managed to flip him over while he was sitting on top of him, Dean would never know. He thought he might have heard a flutter of wings, but then Cas was breathing against his ear and he barely knew his own name.

“Such insolence,” Cas murmured before leaning back, his open palm slapping hard against Dean’s ass. Whoa, zero to sixty in three seconds flat. Only it wasn’t, not really, because they’d done just about everything but, and Dean was ready. Fuck was he ready.

“I will fuck you, as you so eloquently put it, however I see fit.” Dean bit the pillow. If this kept up, he was going to be eating feathers. And then he somehow thought about Cas’ wings, and if he could maybe – Cas hand cracked down again, a sharp pain slithering through his body and drawing his thoughts back to his angel, his perfect immovable force. “Focus, Dean.”

He felt Cas pressing against him, his entire body being smoothed out underneath warm heat as Cas stretched over him. “Never knew you were so kinky, Cas,” Dean mumbled as Cas kissed the corner of his mouth.

He felt Cas smile. “Only for you.” Strong hands pressed against Dean’s wrists, gripping them firmly before sliding down his arms, underneath his chest. He sunk his teeth into Dean’s shoulder, lifting his mouth to lick the indentations when Dean moaned. “You like this.” When Dean didn’t respond, he added, “I know you do. I can hear your heart racing. I smell your excitement.” He inhaled deeply against the back of Dean’s neck. “Intoxicating.”

Cas pushed himself up on his arms, kissing his way down Dean’s spine. Dean’s legs separated without encouragement, and Cas settled between his thighs. An unhurried finger slid up and down his crevice, and Dean groaned, his teeth sinking into the abused pillow.

“Relax,” Cas murmured, his tone teasing. “We’ve got all night.”

“If you don’t hurry up –“ the threat lingered in the sweltering air.

Sharp teeth nipped his hip. “You’ll what, exactly?”

“Payback’s a bitch, Cas,” Dean grumbled.

“I look forward to it.”

Whatever witty retort Dean had planned ended in a premature death when Cas’ tongue traced where his fingers had been moments before. His eyes closed as Cas slid his arms underneath Dean’s thighs, bringing his hands over to separate his cheeks for better access.

Holy shit. Cas wasn’t going to –

“Yes, Dean. I am.”

Dean pulled his arms, going nowhere despite his efforts. “You don’t want me to stop,” Cas murmured. “I know you don’t.”

There was intimacy, and then there was this, and despite Dean’s wildest fantasies, this was one thing he’d never asked anyone for. Whatever hang-ups humans had, Cas apparently didn’t because his tongue slipped down, circling Dean’s core.

Dean groaned, his fingers twisting the sheets. “Cas –“ He was going to add something else on to that, but then Cas’s tongue was inside him, and he couldn’t think past how fucking good it felt.

Cas stopped to tell him what he looked like, vulnerable and splayed out, completely at his mercy, but he never said helpless because Dean wasn’t. Cas told him how attractive he looked, and Dean muttered something about really needing to work on the dirty bedroom talk.

“I’ll show you dirty,” Cas growled and started tongue fucking him earnestly. Dean’s eyes flew open as white hot sparks of pleasure flew over his body, the impending orgasm pooling below his waist.

“Cas,” Dean moaned. “You gotta stop or I’m gonna –“

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when the tongue was withdrawn, only to hear a “no” muttered from behind him, and a second later he was tipping over into one of the best orgasms he’d ever had.

Somehow Cas had flipped him over, but he hadn’t paid much attention as he slowly drifted back to earth.

Cas was kneeling between his legs, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” And back to sixty they went.

Before Dean could gather a coherent thought, a finger pushed at his entrance, sliding inside with little resistance. He was still sensitive; the aftershocks of his orgasm had just stopped simmering beneath the surface.

It was sensory overload when a second finger, then third finger slid inside him, curling slightly. “Cas, I can’t –“

“I know what you can handle, how far I can push,” Cas replied, his voice reaching a depth Dean had never heard before, and a second later fingers brushed against his prostate.

Just when Dean thought he was coming apart once and for all, sparing a thought for if he was going to die, this was totally the way to do it, Cas removed his fingers and pushed inside him. It was one firm thrust, and lips crashed against his own, drinking away his pain.

“That’s – that’s cheating,” Dean murmured, wrapping his hand around Cas’s neck, pressing their foreheads together.

“Perhaps, but it does feel good,” Cas replied, grinning into the kiss.

“Impatient angel,” Dean said, his hands sliding over firm shoulders and gripping Cas’s biceps as he started to pull in and out. Dean circled his legs around Cas, encouraging each thrust with moans of pleasure.

Cas lost it first, Dean’s name on his lips as he thrust a final time, the bed moving a good two feet to the left. It was the look on Cas’s face that did Dean in, his orgasm ripping through him in a flash of white heat and need.

Cas collapsed on top of him, a tangle of arms and legs and wings? Dean blinked, trying to focus.


Cas’s face was pressed against his neck. “Hm?”

“Are those your wings?”

Cas slid to the left, the wings going with him. “We’ll get it in the morning,” Cas murmured, his breath tickling Dean’s throat.

Dean grinned into the darkness and mouthed “Dean Winchester” before closing his eyes to get some well deserved, post sex sleep.

Tags: fanfic, one-shot, supernatural

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