The FIREPLACE OF DEAN/CASTIEL

dc_fireplace - Finally!

vichan — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 00:04:06 GMT

I know, I know. It's August. Forgive me for being just a little bit behind.

First, all dc_fireplace members have temporarily been given posting access. This is so you can go back and edit your posts - update links, fix typos, or add content. Posting has temporarily been switched to moderated, and no new posts will be approved. All members will have posting access in order to edit their existing posts until the 2010-2011 sign-ups open in November. If you need help finding your old posts, read on!

Second, both the master list and the memories have (finally) been updated with all of the awesome content from the 2009-2010 season! You can see if you missed anything, or remind yourself of some of those hidden gems. :)

Third, sign-ups for the 2010-2011 season will open in late November. Winter runs from December 21, 2010 until March 19th, 2011. (I know, this is a bit extreme for a heads up, but I figured I may as well get it in there with the rest.)

Last day of winter!

tracy — Sat, 20 Mar 2010 02:10:15 GMT

castiel: Dean, the internet has built us a fireplace. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/
iwantpie: get off the internet, Cas
castiel: I like our fireplace. There is a fire and wood. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/1404.html
iwantpie: shouldn't you be searching for god?
castiel: Please capitalize God.
iwantpie: oh for christ's sake
iwantpie: Christ's sake, even
iwantpie: happy?
castiel: Thank you.
castiel: I am taking a small respite.
iwantpie: on the internet?
castiel: Beside our virtual fireplace. The stories, art, and music here remind me of you.
iwantpie: not you too. Sam already scarred me for life when he found porn about us on the internet, i can't deal with this shit again
castiel: I have not encountered any porn yet. There is a very heart-warming story about you throwing a snowball at me and calling me "your angel" and promising me chocolate. http://hereare-mysins.livejournal.com/36101.html
iwantpie: that's cheesy as hell
castiel: Chocolate.
iwantpie: ...okay, i see the appeal
castiel: There is also a charming picture of us as reindeer. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/2423.html
iwantpie: oh my god my eyes
castiel: Please do not use the Lord's name in vain. Or lowercase.
iwantpie: we're making out under mistletoe!
castiel: It is a human tradition to kiss under mistletoe, I thought you would be familiar with it.
iwantpie: not the point, Cas
castiel: There is no kissing in this post. http://community.livejournal.com/lilyrosebloom/23077.html
iwantpie: find me those songs in cassette form and we'll talk
castiel: As you wish.
iwantpie: Cas, you don't actually have to
iwantpie: Cas?
iwantpie: still there?
iwantpie: ...okay then
castiel: I cannot find some of these songs, I'm sorry.
iwantpie: it's okay, dude
castiel: How can I find my Father when I can't even find some songs?
iwantpie: whoa
iwantpie: Cas, relax
castiel: This is distressing.
iwantpie: look, come on, read this fic, it'll make you feel better http://fandomcorner.livejournal.com/61740.html
iwantpie: it's about mistletoe and kissing! your fav, right?
castiel: Would you really think I'm adorable if I wore a halo above my head?
iwantpie: this is fic, Cas
iwantpie: don't be such a freak
castiel: Oh.
iwantpie: come on, you know i didn't meant it like that
castiel: I understand.
iwantpie: no, really
iwantpie: i meant it in a fond way
iwantpie: like this guy who thinks you wouldn't know you're supposed to unwrap presents thinks you're a freak, but fondly: http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/3300.html
castiel: I am perfectly aware that presents are meant to be unwrapped.
iwantpie: of course you are
iwantpie: oh, look, Led Zeppelin! http://community.livejournal.com/haunted_age/4483.html
iwantpie: now that's what I call good taste
castiel: Do you have that song on cassette?
iwantpie: yeah
castiel: Good.
castiel: This person also thinks I'm a freak. http://community.livejournal.com/fic_of_lu/9661.html
castiel: Why?
iwantpie: well, that person also thinks you're the love of my life
iwantpie: so clearly she's crazy
castiel: Not that crazy, surely.
iwantpie: what?
castiel: Nothing.
iwantpie: here, since you're such a sap, i found some sappy wallpapers for you http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/3917.html
castiel: I like them.
iwantpie: knew you would
iwantpie: this fic is next, also sappy, not to mention porny http://community.livejournal.com/lucyjanesparlor/50071.html
iwantpie: so much for no porn on this site
iwantpie: what is it with these people?
castiel: If you don't like them, then why are you still perusing these stories?
iwantpie: uh
iwantpie: you know, some of the ideas aren't all bad
iwantpie: like you winning jackpots for me
iwantpie: wanna go to vegas?
castiel: So you do like them.
iwantpie: shut up, Cas
iwantpie: i do not like porn about us, okay?
castiel: There is no porn in the next one. http://dominamalfoy.livejournal.com/54389.html
iwantpie: maybe not, but the entire drabble is a chick flick moment
iwantpie: and the one after that is chick flick AND porn http://grasshopper64.livejournal.com/15855.html
castiel: That's not exactly porn.
iwantpie: we have sex
castiel: Not very explicitly.
iwantpie: you say things like "I will eat your Christmas dinner"
castiel: It's true. If you cooked it, I would eat it.
iwantpie: ugh, don't say things like that
castiel: Very well.
iwantpie: *sigh* you haven't gone off to sulk again have you
castiel: I do not sulk, Dean. I am reading the next story. http://standing-fic.livejournal.com/36408.html
iwantpie: seriously? i'd never lose the amulet
iwantpie: speaking of, you still have it, right?
castiel: Of course, Dean. I would never lose it either.
iwantpie: good
iwantpie: otherwise i'd have to kill you
castiel: Is this person right? http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/5262.html
castiel: Do you mean it when you call me your friend?
iwantpie: seriously?
castiel: Yes.
iwantpie: ...
iwantpie: i wouldn't really kill you if you lost the amulet
iwantpie: and not just because i couldn't even if i tried
castiel: Thank you.
iwantpie: i'd still be pissed, though
castiel: I know.
iwantpie: haha http://community.livejournal.com/her_own_write/32471.html
iwantpie: is it weird, reading porn about yourself watching porn?
castiel: No.
castiel: But I'm not watching porn in this story.
iwantpie: then how do you know it wouldn't be weird?
iwantpie: ...Cas?
iwantpie: how often are you on the internet?
castiel: This is my favorite trope. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/6479.html
iwantpie: nice try, but the fact that you know what a trope is sort of answers my question
iwantpie: why's that your favorite trope, anyway?
iwantpie: you've never even had pie
castiel: It gives me comfort to think you might feed me pie if I were to fall.
iwantpie: dude, if you really want some pie, all you have to do is ask
castiel: It's not about the pie.
iwantpie: it's always about the pie
castiel: It's about still having you even if I lose all else.
castiel: Like in this story. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/7187.html
iwantpie: right
castiel: I don't want to fall.
iwantpie: i'll feed you pie if you do
castiel: I'm serious.
iwantpie: so am i, Cas
castiel: That means a lot to me.
iwantpie: um, yeah, don't mention it
castiel: I won't.
castiel: There are too many wallpapers to choose from. http://community.livejournal.com/erlenmeyer_flsk/1966.html
iwantpie: the second design is my fav
castiel: Why is that?
iwantpie: i dunno, but you have a nice jaw, how come i never noticed that before?
castiel: You like my jaw?
iwantpie: can't hear you, the music's too loud http://rogueslayer452.livejournal.com/342653.html
castiel: We are typing.
castiel: And what is a disco stick?
iwantpie: um
castiel: Can I ride yours?
iwantpie: no, dude
castiel: Okay.
castiel: What about Sam's? Does he have one?
iwantpie: NO
iwantpie: Sam does not have one
iwantpie: he's a girl
iwantpie: and even if he did have one, you wouldn't be allowed to ride it
iwantpie: understood?
castiel: Yes, Dean.
castiel: But what if I made you a mixtape, like in this story? http://cs-whitewolf.livejournal.com/304181.html
castiel: Then would you allow me to ride yours?
iwantpie: you're killin me, Cas
iwantpie: and before you ask, no that's not literal
castiel: I'm sorry.
iwantpie: so what are your wings like?
castiel: What? Why?
iwantpie: it seems they're always coming out during sex in fics about us http://jayfray18.livejournal.com/53950.html
castiel: This is the first story it's happened in on this site.
castiel: What other stories about us having sex have you been reading, Dean?
iwantpie: um, nothing, nvm
castiel: Nvm?
iwantpie: never mind, forget it, life's too short
castiel: Yes, sometimes I wonder if we will live to see the end of 2010.
castiel: I've printed out this calendar and it seems a shame to waste it. http://ev-vy.livejournal.com/267961.html
iwantpie: ...what better reason to live for, right?
castiel: You are a better reason.
iwantpie: didn't i tell you not to say stuff like that?
castiel: But it's true. If you were to be destroyed, like in this story (http://bauble.livejournal.com/61286.html), I would be devastated.
iwantpie: i'm not gonna say yes
castiel: All the same, this story makes me sad.
iwantpie: cheer up, emo kid
iwantpie: listen to this http://community.livejournal.com/lemonstation/18285.html
castiel: Okay.
iwantpie: also, maybe it's not weird for you to read porn about yourself watching porn
iwantpie: but surely it's weird to read fic about yourself reading fic? http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/10200.html
castiel: Only in that I'm reading stories about you and Sam in this one.
castiel: I never have, and I don't think I'd want to.
iwantpie: yeah, me either
castiel: You prefer stories about us, then?
iwantpie: i didn't say that
castiel: But you're reading them.
iwantpie: just humoring you
castiel: What about those other stories about my wings that you alluded to?
iwantpie: um
iwantpie: research
castiel: I don't believe you.
iwantpie: well, maybe if you took a hint from this fic http://mabele.livejournal.com/6178.html and dropped me a note once in a while, i wouldn't have to resort to the internet
castiel: Are you saying you miss me?
iwantpie: these people think they could win against us, i object http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/11388.html
castiel: Do you miss me, Dean?
iwantpie: what do you really look like?
iwantpie: cuz this is pretty badass http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/11820.html
castiel: Do you miss me?
iwantpie: no!
iwantpie: jesus, let it go already
iwantpie: xz'sssssssssssd""""""""""
castiel: Dean? Are you alright?
iwantpie: Cas, I love you. Of course I miss you, that's why I read fic about you and me all the time. <3333333!!!1
castiel: What?
iwantpie: q'[[['[['[[[[[[\\\
iwantpie: ==
iwantpie:
iwantpie: ZXXXXXZ
castiel: Dean?
castiel: Dean!
castiel: Dean, are you still there? Please answer me, I don't know where you are.
iwantpie: shit, sorry, that was Sam
iwantpie: bitch stole my laptop
castiel: Sam thinks you love me?
iwantpie: who cares what Sam thinks, he's a bitch who needs to fuck off and die
castiel: You don't mean that.
castiel: He dies in the next story. http://zelda-zee.livejournal.com/408064.html
iwantpie: ...fine, you win
iwantpie: i don't really want to read fic about Sam dying, okay?
castiel: It is very sad, but I do like the endings.
iwantpie: there's more than 1?
castiel: Yes, there are several different endings. I like the last one best.
iwantpie: ...you would
iwantpie: freak
iwantpie: sappy freak
castiel: Which do you like best?
iwantpie: none, we have sex in all of them
castiel: You like sex.
iwantpie: not with you!
castiel: You've never tried it.
iwantpie: we are NOT going there, okay?
castiel: Sometimes I think it's a shame. Even this icon maker has labeled us virgins. http://lessrest.livejournal.com/90234.html
iwantpie: you're the only virgin in the picture, i have no idea what she's on about
iwantpie: although the people in this post who think you're a delicate flower may be on to something http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/13119.html
castiel: They also think you would be the Aneros, which is a prostate stimulator.
iwantpie: why do you know that?
iwantpie: wait, don't answer that
iwantpie: moving on!
iwantpie: what is it with Sam setting us up in all these fics? http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/13697.html
castiel: He thinks you love me, remember?
iwantpie: oh, of course
iwantpie: how could i have forgotten
castiel: Unless you don't, I suppose. Like in the last scenario here. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/14133.html
iwantpie: that's never gonna happen
castiel: I thought you'd gotten past being revolted at people writing about us having sex.
iwantpie: no, you don't get it
iwantipe: that version of you and me in the future
iwantpie: not gonna fucking happen
iwantpie: ever
iwantpie: got it?
castiel: You never told me what you saw.
iwantpie: forget it, Cas, it doesn't matter
iwantpie: this is how it's gonna be http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/14486.html
iwantpie: you with your stuffy trench coat and stick up your ass, and me next to you
castiel: I would like that.
castiel: But whose stick is in my bottom? Is it a disco stick?
iwantpie: ...
iwantpie: stop asking me about disco sticks
castiel: Very well.
castiel: Perhaps I could ask LiveJournal about them, then?
castiel: I could even choose one of these lovely layouts for my journal. http://community.livejournal.com/toledan_night/10676.html
iwantpie: don't ask anybody about disco sticks!
castiel: Why not?
iwantpie: you're too sappy, it doesn't become you
iwantpie: this is more your style: http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/15199.html
castiel: Would you like me to hold your hand?
iwantpie: no!
castiel: Will you hold mine, then?
iwantpie: no!
castiel: Would you if this story came to pass? http://cugami.livejournal.com/40544.html
iwantpie: Cas, that's depressing
castiel: It's not so unlikely.
iwantpie: fine
iwantpie: if you really need it someday, i'll hold your fucking hand
iwantpie: but if you tell Sam, i'll kill you
castiel: I won't tell Sam.
iwantpie: haha look, you're the little mermaid http://mushishi7.livejournal.com/5329.html
castiel: I am not a mermaid.
iwantpie: you'd be a cute mermaid, admit it
castiel: Would you chase my tail?
iwantpie: stop reading porn, Cas
iwantpie: why don't you read some nice gen fic about praying http://trinityofone.livejournal.com/191582.html
castiel: Even this one implies that we will have sex.
castiel: "But parts are going to be good. Parts are going to be so good."
iwantpie: you know, for a virgin, you sure do think about sex a lot
castiel: I attribute this to you.
iwantpie: you sure it's not the internet?
iwantpie: they do seem to like to put thoughts in your head
iwantpie: literally http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/17295.html
castiel: They captioned the second picture incorrectly.
castiel: I was thinking about the way you say my name.
iwantpie: ...
iwantpie: sometimes i think you'd be the easiest person to please in bed ever
castiel: How often do you think that?
iwantpie: not very often, ok?
iwantpie: it's weird, thinking that about the guy who pulled me out of hell
iwantpie: did you really put something in my philtrum when you did that?
iwantpie: this person thinks you did http://community.livejournal.com/crispin_at_sea/3880.html
castiel: I think you have missed the point of this story, Dean.
iwantpie: well sorry i'm not as nerdy as you are
castiel: This one contains more pictures and fewer words. http://ran-cl.livejournal.com/72172.html
castiel: This one as well. http://bold-seer.livejournal.com/21906.html
iwantpie: should i be insulted?
castiel: I am not insulting you. I liked the pictures and thought you might too.
iwantpie: of course YOU would like pictures of us getting it on and being sappy
castiel: Do these songs really represent your thoughts on what you saw in the future? http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/18193.html
iwantpie: i told you, let it go
castiel: Side B is hopeful.
iwantpie: yeah, well, i am hopeful
iwantpie: i'm hopeful that you'll fucking let it go
iwantpie: seriously, Cas, go back to thinking about sex or something like the teenage angel you are
castiel: I am not a teenage angel.
iwantpie: http://cloudy-fic.livejournal.com/37102.html
castiel: Angels do not undergo the process of puberty, Dean.
iwantpie: aww, really?
iwantpie: it'd be cute
castiel: You like this story?
iwantpie: um, i didn't say that
castiel: I could have wingrections if you want.
iwantpie: what? seriously?
castiel: No.
iwantpie: i hate you
iwantpie: see this first picture? http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/19190.html
iwantpie: i'm leaving
castiel: Stay.
iwantpie: fine
iwantpie: but only because there's more Led Zeppelin http://community.livejournal.com/oneforyes/3259.html
castiel: I would like to do these things someday. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/19959.html
iwantpie: i think we already established that you're a sappy freak, right?
castiel: Yes.
iwantpie: good
castiel: But this story must make even you ache. http://killkacy.livejournal.com/16903.html
iwantpie: what is this, you don't think my life is fucked up enough as it is?
castiel: It is, I'm sorry.
iwantpie: how pissed do you think Sam would be if i changed all his desktop icons to these? http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/21196.html
castiel: He might like them. I do.
iwantpie: oh
iwantpie: good point, nvm
iwantpie: how come our fandom has such a hard-on for you owning me?
iwantpie: http://morganoconner.livejournal.com/28984.html
iwantpie: why can't it be the other way around?
castiel: It already is the other way around.
iwantpie: that's fucked up
castiel: Not literally.
iwantpie: i know, but
iwantpie: Cas, that's still fucked up
castiel: I chose it.
castiel: http://22by7.livejournal.com/722905.html
iwantpie: i don't do poetry
castiel: They are beautiful.
iwantpie: they're POEMS
castiel: Try this, then. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/21791.html
iwantpie: why is your speech bubble molesting my ass?
iwantpie: wait, it's not a speech bubble, is it?
iwantpie: it's some sort of detachable angel tongue?
castiel: And you say I think about sex too much.
iwantpie: you do, for an angel
iwantpie: you're supposed to be a saint or some shit
castiel: Look at part three, you're a saint too. http://community.livejournal.com/mostmotherly/1030.html
iwantpie: fandom is delusional
castiel: I think it fits.
iwantpie: you're delusional too
castiel: And yet you are still awake and chatting with me.
iwantpie: don't know why i bother
castiel: Listen to these songs with me? http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/22297.html
iwantpie: sure, whatever you want
iwantpie: seeing as you fell for me and all
castiel: What?
iwantpie: http://terazetta.livejournal.com/5229.html
castiel: I do not require repayment for what I did.
iwantpie: it was a joke, Cas
castiel: Would you like me better if I was a woman?
iwantpie: a hot one?
castiel: Yes, I seem to have a "great rack" in this one. http://zoemathemata.livejournal.com/10886.html
iwantpie: hell yeah
castiel: I see.
iwantpie: um, not to say i don't like you just fine the way you are
castiel: Thank you.
castiel: Is "just fine" enough to have dreams like this? http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/23763.html
iwantpie: do you ever think about things that aren't sex?
castiel: Yes, I think about God.
castiel: And you with penguins. http://orandream.livejournal.com/174225.html
iwantpie: that's just mean
iwantpie: what would i do with penguins all night?
castiel: You could play these "podfics" to them. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/24450.html
iwantpie: porn and penguins don't mix, dude
castiel: Then I prefer the former.
castiel: Especially this. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/25344.html
iwantpie: ...you know, i wouldn't mind that life
castiel: Having sex with me in front of an audience for money?
iwantpie: only if I can call you "cinnamon heaven-dixon"
castiel: What?
iwantpie: next up http://community.livejournal.com/fireworkbrigade/4067.html
castiel: That would be acceptable.
iwantpie: seriously?
castiel: Cinnamon tastes good.
iwantpie: where have you tasted cinnamon?
iwantpie: Cas
iwantpie: what do you do when you're not with me?
castiel: Why does that concern you?
iwantpie: because!
castiel: A nice man gave me a cinnamon roll once.
iwantpie: WHO
castiel: Not anyone you are acquainted with.
iwantpie: WHY
castiel: I was sitting on a street reading some of these. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/27445.html
iwantpie: he didn't solicit you for anything?
castiel: No, Dean.
iwantpie: oh
castiel: Are you less angry now? Would you feel better if I gave you a hug?
iwantpie: no i would not feel better if you gave me a damn hug
castiel: The people here seem to think otherwise. http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/27781.html
iwantpie: yeah, well, they also seem to think you're not falling http://community.livejournal.com/onthe_razorwire/38283.html
castiel: I'm not. Not in the way you think in this story, anyway.
iwantpie: really?
castiel: Really.
iwantpie: i'm glad
castiel: Does your car need saving?
iwantpie: wtf
iwantpie: no?
castiel: Oh. I thought I might try this. http://bauble.livejournal.com/75792.html
iwantpie: right
iwantpie: i'll be sure to let you know if i accidentally drive her into a fucking swamp
iwantpie: unless you leave first? http://yellowhorde.livejournal.com/947000.html
iwantpie: are you gonna?
castiel: I don't know, Dean.
castiel: But for what it's worth, I would prefer this. http://moonlettuce.livejournal.com/726568.html
iwantpie: you really want that white picket fence, huh
castiel: I would prefer you over a white fence.
iwantpie: what about a purple one?
castiel: Yes, I would prefer you over a purple fence as well.
iwantpie: how sweet of you
castiel: I would be, if you let me. http://community.livejournal.com/onthe_razorwire/38486.html
iwantpie: i'm not convinced you won't leave when all this is over
iwantpie: here's another one about you leaving http://morganoconner.livejournal.com/33021.html
castiel: Dean.
castiel: Where are you?
iwantpie: why?
castiel: I would like to read this one to you. http://janie-tangerine.livejournal.com/262216.html
iwantpie: you're such a fucking girl
iwantpie: i'm surprised you haven't taken up knitting yet http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/30927.html
castiel: Would you like me to?
castiel: I would not mind knitting and listening to these songs. http://reality0junkie.livejournal.com/21372.html
iwantpie: would you mind covering yourself in chocolate and bringing me pie?
iwantpie: http://community.livejournal.com/dc_fireplace/31401.html
iwantpie: you remember what i said about bert and ernie, right?
iwantpie: Cas? still there, buddy?
castiel: Yes, sorry, I was readjusting my LiveJournal layout to include one of these headers. http://here4castiel.livejournal.com/22830.html
iwantpie: pay attention
iwantpie: we're talking about you and chocolate and pie!
castiel: Here is a story about me staying. http://dauntperplexity.livejournal.com/10266.html
castiel: It's the last one, unfortunately, but I'm glad it ended on this one.
castiel: I hope they do this again next year.
iwantpie: sure, sure
iwantpie: DISCO STICK
iwantpie: ...
iwantcas: got your attention yet?
castiel: Dean?
iwantcas: yep, it's yours truly
castiel: I thought you didn't miss me.
iwantcas: shut up, Cas
iwantcas: i'm at the motel 6 in grand island, nebra333333333363

Uhm, IN CONCLUSION: A huge THANK YOU to everyone who participated in dc_fireplace this year, and happy spring! We hope you enjoyed your daily doses of Dean/Castiel love and hope you'll join us again next year. ♥!

March 17th; Fic: He Heals Me

dauntperplexity — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 22:07:41 GMT

Title: He Heals Me
Author: DauntPerplexity
Rating: PG 13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: We’ll just say season 5
Length: 11,719
Summary: “Okay, Mr. Know-it-all,” Dean replied. “Just because you tell me everything.”
Author’s Notes: So, these are just a bunch of one shots that could or could not take place in Dean and Castiel’s relationship. Some stories link, some stand alone. There is no order to these stories. The order is more for the songs themselves.

“Okay, Mr. Know-it-all,” Dean replied. “Just because you tell me everything.”

March 15th Graphics/Comic

love_jackianto — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 13:20:53 GMT

Title: One Time Dean Didn't Say I love You To Cas And One Time He Did.
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Cas, Sam and Guest Star form Changing Channels
Rating: G
An: This is a comic that is a cross between Supernatural and Sesame Street.
An 2: Slight character spoiler for Changing Channels.

For March 13th; Of Angels and Hunters

reality0junkie — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 18:35:09 GMT

Title: Of Angels and Hunter
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Type: Fanmix and Picspam. Picspam from some of my favorite moments of Dean/Castiel in season five (With some songs to go along). It's by no means complete.
Warnings: Spoilers up to My Bloody Valentine
Notes: Lots of experimenting with coloring, and some notes included.

March 10th: fic (Curse of the Black Purl)

aibari — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 00:31:25 GMT

Title: Curse of the Black Purl
Author: aibari
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13-ish
Spoilers: Nothing specific
Warnings: Brief gore, excessive off-screen knitting.
Disclaimer: Not in any way mine.
Summary: It's a hat,” Dean says, “or a weapon of mass destruction. I'm not sure yet."
Notes: Beta'd by oceansex. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Curse of the Black Purl

It's a hat, or at least hat-shaped.

Dean stares at it. It sits on his nightstand, innocuously, and he wonders what sort of world-shattering disaster is going to happen if he touches it. He also wonders how the Hell it got here.

“Hey, Sammy,” he yells, in the general direction of the motel bathroom, because seriously, Sam is a fucking girl, and he spends like half his free time in there. “Sammy!”

Sam opens the door with a bit too much force, bitchfacing at him. “What?”

Dean gives him a shit-eating grin. “This yours?”

Sam squints at the knitwork.

“No,” he says. “Dude, what is that?”

“It's a hat,” Dean says, “or a weapon of mass destruction. I'm not sure yet.”

“How did it get here?” Sam asks. He walks over to the hat – and he's wearing pants, thank God, Sam's always been a bit too easily distracted by whatever mystery is in front of him and Dean really doesn't need that, ever – and gives it a look like he expects it to start explaining. Dean shrugs.

“I don't know,” he says, and there is an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach that probably isn't as strong as it should be, but with the kind of monsters they've come across lately, this is nothing.

Sam pokes at the hat with a pen and slightly exaggerated caution. There is a definite lack of explosion.

Alright. Dean picks it up, half expecting it to take his hand off or something. It doesn't; instead, there is something like a jolt of electricity. It feels weird and vaguely familiar, and Dean almost drops the hat.

“You okay?” Sam asks, like he's expecting him to faint like the heroine in a trashy romance novel.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “It's just a really ugly hat - someone must have left it behind.”

They burn and salt it anyway, just in case.

--- _ _ _ ---

Dean forgets all about it until two weeks later, when he finds a scarf on his bed. It looks like someone started knitting and forgot how to stop, because – and they measure it – it's almost as long as Sam.

There are almost no holes in it.

--- _ _ _ ---

It's only the beginning; over the next weeks, scarves, jackets, hats, sweaters, socks and blankets start appearing in their hotel room at a pretty alarming frequency.

--- _ _ _ ---

Castiel shows up at the beginning of winter. They're in Newport, Michigan, and it's fucking freezing; whenever it's windy, which it is, all the time, it feels like being repeatedly stabbed in the face. Mother Nature is a vicious bitch, but they're in the middle of the fucking Apocalypse, so Dean supposes he should just be grateful that it isn't raining dead babies or something.

Dean left Sam chatting up some chick at the diner, because it's about time his younger brother got laid by someone who isn't an evil Hellbitch. (Knowing their luck, she'll turn out to be some kind of soul-eating monster in the morning, but Dean tries to be optimistic. Maybe nothing happens. Maybe this is the actual true love of Sam's life. Hell, maybe Lucifer explodes in the presence of their love and they ride into the sunset on unicorns, vomiting rainbows.) Castiel is standing outside their motel room, and Dean wonders how long he's been there.

“Cas,” he says. Castiel turns around. His eyes flick briefly to Dean's hands, or, more accurately, his gloves.

“Dean.”

“Bad news?” Dean asks, feeling strangely self-conscious and a little bit like his hands are burning. (The thing is, these are nice gloves, and it's fucking cold. If they were cursed, something would have happened by now.)

“No,” Castiel says, and that's a first, “I just wanted to make sure that you were … all right.”

He looks kind of awkward, but then he always looks kind of awkward, like he's wearing a suit that doesn't fit right. (And yeah, technically he is, but Dean tries not to think about that.)

“We're fucking fantastic,” Dean says and grins, bitter and sharp like smoke. Castiel, who has all the social awareness of a toaster, misses any possible nuance the statement may or may not have. He watches Dean with his usual unnerving intensity – on anyone else, that look would be enough to get them committed – head tilted like Dean is some kind of inexplicable riddle he's trying to work out the answer to. Dean used to hate that shit, but now he finds it almost reassuring. (It says, I am not a sex-crazed, joyless junkie. It says, I am Castiel, angel of the Lord.)

“That's good,” Castiel says.

There is a pause. It feels like it's so full of some profound and hugely important truth it might burst, but Dean can't for the life of him figure out what the hell it's supposed to mean.

“What's with the smile, anyway?” Dean asks, because there's a faint smile on Castiel's face and it's been there for so long Dean kind of wonders if it has gotten stuck that way.

Castiel isn't looking at him. He's staring past him, past the parking lot behind him, looking at – or for, because who really knows what goes on in the angel's head – something Dean can't even begin to guess at, and he's – yeah, still smiling.

“I'm happy, Dean,” he says, like he's telling him that the sky is blue. Like they're not in the middle of the Apocalypse and probably going to be dead this time next year. Dean stares at him.

“You're a freak,” he says, and for a moment, he almost thinks he's given himself away, because Castiel suddenly refocuses on him, and holy crap. To call it a look would be like calling Doctor Sexy kind of attractive; it doesn't really do it justice. It feels like being stripped naked and having layers carefully peeled off your soul, and while Dean is just fine with the first one, the second one makes him a bit uncomfortable. He tries really, really hard not to fidget.

“I suppose we are,” Castiel says, finally, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly. Dean thinks maybe he's fucking with him, because “we”?

Castiel is looking at his hands again, and Dean has a sudden, unexpected flash of insight.

“Cas,” he says, very carefully, “have you been knitting?”

Castiel is very studiously not looking at him. “You said I should get a hobby.”

And yeah, Dean kind of remembers that, but that doesn't prevent the silence from stretching out between them, vaguely embarrassed of itself. Dean could be imagining it, but Castiel is starting to look a bit pink.

“Dude,” he says, “seriously?”

“Knitting reduces stress,” Castiel says, stoic. Of course, he is always stoic, but this is the “soldiering on” kind of stoic, the kind that suggests extreme internal bleeding caused by the stick up his ass. Dean barks out a laugh, because this is fucking hilarious.

“Come on, Needle Boy,” he says, throwing a hand around Castiel's shoulder, “it's fucking freezing out here.”

---_ _ _---

And that's the end of it, or at least it's the end of it until they're cornered by bounty hunting demons three days later in the local pie shop. The demons have a look to them that Dean and Sam have seen more and more frequently over the past few months – the razor-sharp, sadistic happiness at the misfortune (read: death) of others amplified by the slippery, sociopathic knowledge that none of the rules apply to them.

There wouldn't have been a problem if it had just been the usual one or two assholes – even Castiel is with them, for once – but there are fifteen. Dean barely has the time to curse before one of them throws him into a wall. In fact, he's pretty sure they are all going to die until Castiel stabs a demon with his knitting needles.

Its head explodes. There is no warning; one moment, Castiel is ramming the needles home, and the next, the walls are covered with sticky, pink globs of what used to be demon flesh.

It's gross.

It's fucking awesome.

There is a resounding silence – Dean spares Sam a surreptitious glance in case he's had a relapse and acquired a sudden taste for demon brains, but he looks mostly disgusted. Dean tries not to feel relieved.

Then, with the quiet, insistent precision of a librarian refiling books after finding them misplaced for the nth time, Castiel picks up the needles – the blood at the ends sizzles gently – and makes short work of another demon before anyone really has the time to process what the hell is going on.

The rest is almost a good time.

---_ _ _---

Castiel has been standing outside for an hour, staring at the parking lot. Even his trench coat looks kind of depressed. After some quick deliberation - “Dude, he's your angel.” – Dean joins him.

“Hey,” he says, leaning on the railing beside him.

“Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean doesn't know when Castiel decided that “Dean” was a good substitute for “hello”, but it looks like it's going to stick. He wonders idly if he'll ever hear him say “hey”.

“Nice work with the Holy Knitting Needles of Antioch back there.”

“I didn't know that it would work,” Castiel says. Dean can't read the look on his face – it's like staring at a wall.

“Good thing it did, huh?” Dean says. The grin feels glued to his face.

“The needles are useless now,” Castiel says, and the look on his face is fucking heartbroken. (Or constipated, but Dean is pretty sure that doesn't happen when you're an angel.) Son of a bitch.

“They're just knitting needles, Cas, stop acting like someone pissed in your cornflakes.”

Castiel exudes silent judgement like a radiator of disapproval.

“They were important to me, Dean,” he snaps, and wow, he's been actively mourning them. Dean claps him on the shoulder in a purely man-angel-friendship way.

“Don't worry,” he says, smiling, “I'll get you new ones. Hell, I'll even make them engrave them.”

Dean isn't sure why he's doing this, but the tentative smile on Castiel's face makes him glad that he is.

“Thank you,” Castiel says, like Dean has just promised him the world on a fucking string. Dean feels awkward under the weight of his gaze, and if this were anyone else, he would mock them mercilessly, but -

“Don't mention it,” he says. His voice comes out scratchier than usual. “Really, don't.”

His hand is still on Castiel's shoulder, and he itches to do … something. Fuck it, he thinks. Fuck it. It's the goddamn Apocalypse, and by some crazy miracle they aren't dead yet. He's always been good at taking risks, especially the suicidally reckless ones.

He slides his hand sideways, brushing against the collar of Castiel's shirt, and finds his tie, pretends to straighten it. His hands don't shake, and he isn't grinning as he leans down and presses a kiss against Castiel's mouth. (Castiel's lips are chapped, and Dean finds himself surprised at how human that is.)

When he pulls back – full of defiance and steeled for defeat – Castiel tilts his head to the side and studies him intently (goddamn angels) for what feels like hours.

And then he pulls Dean back in.

fanmix (Dean/Castiel): And I Ain't Got No Halo Hanging Over My Head (or, the crazy one.)

janie_tangerine — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 23:29:51 GMT

Okay. This is the crazy fanmix. *cough* And I'm really done now. ;)

Title: And I Ain't Got No Halo Hanging Over My Head
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Type: double fanmix, for which I only used Bon Jovi music. ~~Yes, they're my favorite group and yes, I really had to.~~
Warnings: I think that statistically the most recurring word in the lyrics is baby. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Notes: full (and lengthy) notes are in my journal. For now, the pink description in the preview down there will partly suffice, not that it doesn't say pretty much everything.
Notes part II: The first part is mostly serious songs, the second is utterly unrepentant cheesy songs which, imo, fit the pairing in spite of the cheese (or maybe also because of it). Goes unsaid: the second part and the first cover should probably not be taken too seriously. ;) Enjoy, or at least I hope you do!

Here with the real covers and stuff at my journal.

Fic: Doghouse Roses, PG13

janie_tangerine — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 16:59:24 GMT

Title: Doghouse Roses
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG13 just to be overly sure.
Wordcount: 5600
Summary: And it just says everything that, in order to act instead of speaking, Dean doesn’t just buy Cas a drink but buys him fake roses that aren’t even worth a dollar.
Spoilers: vague references up until 5x13, but since I wrote this at the beginning of February, I'd say general S5.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is most definitely not mine and the title isn't mine either.
A/N: this came to me after reading the first story in Steve Earle's book Doghouse Roses, and well, I happened to love the title, then my head started making connections and here it is. However, apart from the title and the fake convenience store roses there isn't anything in common with the short story in question.

(The first time, it’s blue.)

Fanmix (Dean/Castiel): You Already Won Me Over In Spite Of Me

janie_tangerine — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 10:52:47 GMT

So, today it appears that you're stuck with yours truly so hi everyone? *waves* I'm bringing two fanmixes (one of which is double and does have a theme and is probably mostly crazy) and one fic, and I thought I'd start things with the fanmix which isn't themed or double or mostly crazy. Enjoy! The rest will come sometime later. ;)

Title: You Already Won Me Over In Spite Of Me
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Type: fanmix
Notes: This one isn't supposed to cover specific eps and I tried to make it as happy-ish as possible. Which meant also using country-ish stuff for half of the mix but I swear it's nothing embarrassing. ;)

here with full covers at my journal.

Until Tomorrow Comes

morganoconner — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 15:46:09 GMT

Title: Until Tomorrow Comes
Author: morganoconner
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating:PG-13
Word Count: 1239
Summary: They can’t possibly know what tomorrow will bring
Warnings: None
Notes: This one was a bit experimental for me, so you’ll have to let me know what you think. :) Thanks as always to empath89 for a lightning-fast beta job!

Until Tomorrow Comes

Fic/Drabble (Dean/Cas): Remembrance - Walls

heavenlyxbodies — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 10:58:34 GMT

Title: Remembrance
Author: heavenlyxbodies
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: I think only through S4
Feedback: Makes me happy, just play nice
Warnings/Squicks: none that I know of, save for the boy touching.
Summary: Castiel tells Dean about being pulled from the Pit.

AN1: This was originally going to be an end scene to Fallen Angel, but it kinda took a left turn out of the gate, so I figured I’d offer it up as unmitigated porn.

~~~~~~~~~

Title: Walls
Author: heavenlyxbodies
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG
Spoilers: let’s just call it S4 and be done with it, yeah
Feedback: Makes me happy, just play nice
Warnings/Squicks: esoteric writing
Summary: Sometimes walls need to come down.

Fanmix (Dean/Cas): Burning at Both Ends

heavenlyxbodies — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 10:47:35 GMT

Okay, a couple things before this goes any further- I do not claim to be good at fanmixes, I have only made one other one, so yeah be gentle. I also know that my tastes and collections are a bit odd (to put it mildly) so I also come bearing fic, which will be posted directly.

---compiled for dc_fireplace

Links to .rar and .zip files

Fanmix: Gleeful

moonlettuce — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 16:08:49 GMT

Title: Gleeful
Tracks: 12
Notes: I had the urge to put together a mix using songs that have been in Glee. So I did... And then I wrote snippets for each one ::grin::

Download at my LJ

Fic: Conditional Formatting

moonlettuce — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 04:01:13 GMT

I bring fic! And at least one more thing will be coming later in the day ;-)

Title: Conditional Formatting
Author: Claire
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,449
Summary: Dean says yes, but he has some conditions...

Drabbles

yellowhorde — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 06:37:36 GMT

Title: WORK OF ART
Author: yellowhorde
Rating: G
Genre and/or Pairing: Pre-slash
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 100
Summary: How can Castiel NOT love Dean?

Title: FOR THE GREATER GOOD
Author: yellowhorde
Rating: G
Genre and/or Pairing: Angst. Dean/Castiel, Jimmy
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 100
Summary: Once again Dean sacrifices his happiness for the greater good

Hello hello hello

bauble — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 05:01:32 GMT

I wrote six ficlets inspired by prompts culled from my f-list over here. Every ficlet is between 100-350 words, and varying degrees of cracky. Enjoy!

I also posted a rather self indulgent commentary for my fic The Day We Saved the World. If you haven't read it, you can read it here. If you have and would like to read the commented version, that is over here.

Fic (Dean/Cas): Fallen Angel

heavenlyxbodies — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 16:48:48 GMT

Title: Fallen Angel
Author: heavenlyxbodies
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: let’s call it blanket S5, though you should be safe if you’re up to 5x03
Feedback: Makes me happy, just play nice
Beta: The lovely love_n_lost did me the honour of betaing this. *hugs and smooches* Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
Warnings/Squicks: rampant acts of BÖC, boy touching
Summary: It’s surprising what will bring the boys together- a song and a brother who just won’t let it go.

AN: THIS IS NOT A FALLEN!CAS FIC!!!!!

March 1st

darksilvercat — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 11:24:07 GMT

Hey there Dean/Cas fans, my name is darksilvercat and I'll be your cruise director for today.

LET’S GET ALL INTERACTIVE UP IN HERE!
This first post is loosely inspired by the 'one sentence' meme, wherein you write a one-sentence fic for a variety of genres. In the spirit of the occasion, I went by deancastiel and picked 15 of their genre tags in place of the usual genre choices. So here’s how this works:

1) Claim a genre
2) Give me a prompt that fits that genre (as simple or as detailed as you like)
3) I will write a 100-1000 word ficlet based on that prompt

Genres:

Apocafic
AU/AR
Awesome!Sam
Crack/humour
Episode related
Fallen!Castiel
Fluff/waff/schmoop
Hug!fic
Kink (blasphemy)
Kink (blood/knife!play)
Kink (tie!porn)
Pie!sharing
PWP
Torture
Wing!fic

February 28th (just barely!): The Park Bench Anthology, Vol. I

elvisglasses5 — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 07:09:04 GMT

As a reader of (a lot) of Dean/Cas fanfic, I thought I would try to compile a very small selection of some of my favorite fics into some kind of anthology. Using my experience with book publishing and (rudimentary) layout and design, I've created what I hope is just the first volume of The Park Bench Anthology -- a title that I think is meaningful to Dean and Castiel fans of every flavor. : )

Links to PDFs:
CORRECTED Anthology Cover   (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"525,600 Minutes" by oatmeal_queen    (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"All Saints Trilogy" by oselle    (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"At the End of the World" by moodymuse19    (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"Because Dean Winchester Keeps His Promises" by strangeandcharm    (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"Comes a Rattle and a Hum" by someblazingstar    (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"In the Secret Places of the Stairs" by thevinegarworks    (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"Not All the Way Through" by tracy_loo_who    (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"Pomegranate Seeds" by elaeazeph    (in booklet form)   (single pages)
"Respect" by darksilvercat    (in booklet form)   (single pages)

Note on Story Selection:
This anthology is by no means exhaustive or even partially representative of all the amazing fics that have been written for this corner of fandom since Castiel made his grand, sweeping entrance in September 2008. I've selected a mere NINE fics for this volume, all some of my favorites that I've read, but I've left off dozens more authors and fics that I equally adore. Think of this anthology as one small slice of my favorite fics, which is one small slice of all the great fics written for Dean/Cas, which is just one (not so small) slice of the overall Supernatural fandom . . .

Acknowledgments:
I want to thank the nine authors who graciously gave me permission to reprint their fics here: oatmeal_queen , darksilvercat , oselle , moodymuse19 , someblazingstar , elaeazeph , strangeandcharm , thevinegarworks , and tracy . Special thanks to the cover artist, seasaltpepper , for letting me use her lovely image of Dean and Cas, the Impala, and a starry night. What more could you want in a cover image? : )

Please note that I have not included the usual fic headers in the anthology (in an effort to make it look as "real" as possible), so be sure to view the individual author or story pages for full list of warnings, pairings, summaries, and authors' notes. Links to individual stories are listed on the inside back cover of the anthology.

Technical Details (for BOOKLET PDFs):
Okay, so here's how this thing works. First of all, each page is formatted to print to 8.5 x 11, with two "book" pages per sheet. Everything is set up to print double-sided (yay for saving trees!). And only the cover is in color, the rest is all black & white.

Each 8.5. x 11 sheet, printed double sided, will therefore contain FOUR pages of the "book". If you print/copy the PDF double sided in exactly the order the PDF is created, you will have a perfect little booklet that when folded in half, reads in perfect order -- just like a chapter in a real book. (If you have trouble with this process, or putting the pages together once they print, refer to this diagram for help.) You will want to test-print a couple of (double sided) pages to make sure that you've got the right orientation for your double sided printing. A good story to try this with is "Pomegranate Seeds" -- the shortest story in the bunch, with just 5 pages of text.

The stories/chapters are paginated individually, unlike how a real anthology would be set up. I did this partially to give the reader flexibility in what/when you want to print, and also to make it easier to, say, carry a story on a plane or subway with just your cover around it and your selected story (or stories) inside. Now, there be porn in these stories, for sure, but with a nice respectable cover, your coworker/mother/lover will never know that you're reading about good old fashioned human-on-angel, male-on-male smexing. However, I am not liable if you are busted for reading/printing angel!porn. : )

Happy reading, all! And thank you again to the many, many amazing authors in this fandom. You guys rock!

- elvisglasses
(a.k.a. Park Bench Press)

UPDATE! I am in the process of remaking PDFs for all of these files that do NOT have the complicated layout for booklet printing (in case you just want to read a typeset version of a story on the screen but not print it out). I hope to post those tonight or tomorrow at the latest.

UPDATE2: Single-paged PDF files have been loaded for each story and the cover. Hope that helps people who just want to read it on the screen or on an e-reader. The BOOKLET files (instructions behind the cut) have also been updated. Hopefully these options will let everyone who wants to enjoy the Park Bench Anthology. If you have any other questions/requests/problems, just leave a comment here and I'll try to address them as best I can.

February 28th: Season 4 Filling-in-the-Gaps Ficlets

elvisglasses5 — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 19:25:15 GMT

Hello! This is my first posting in any Dean/Cas comm, although I have been a happy lurker (and reader) for months. Thank you to everyone else who has written and drawn and vidded and meta'ed and fanmixed for the enjoyment of others, like myself, who don't necessarily have your talents to offer. : )

I wanted to claim a day for dc_fireplace because I felt it was time to try to give something back. This is not what I had originally intended to offer -- nor is it the only thing I'm going to offer today -- but apparently my drawing skills are not quite as awesome as I thought they were from, you know, back in high school. Ahem. Anyway, I took my idea for brief little drawings to tell the stories of missing moments in Season 4 eps and turned to the tools I *do* know how to use (words) and wrote these moments instead. Hope you enjoy these little glimpses into moments just outside of the frame in canon season 4!

Title Unnamed Ficlets for Dean/Castiel episodes in Season 4
Author elvisglasses5
Pairing Dean/Castiel (friendship, pre-slash)
Rating PG-13 for language
Category/Wordcount Missing Scenes and Episode Codas / 4,450 total
Warnings Spoilers for Season 4. Liberties taken with the English language, good sense, and Jimmy Novak's body.
Disclaimer Don't own 'em, never will.
Summary Imagine the camera started rolling a little earlier or keep rolling a longer longer at the end of a scene. What little moments did we miss in the evolution of Dean and Castiel?

4.01 Lazarus Rising

“I am not your father.”

Castiel turns his back on Jimmy Novak’s daughter and walks down the quiet street. He passes house after house where families are gathering for dinner, where the blue light of televisions flash in the window, where children on bicycles ride up and down the sidewalk. The quietness of human domesticity is soothing to him, draws him towards the warmth of their familial bonds, but he has work to do.

Castiel walks. It would be quicker to fly, the flash of a moment to transport himself to where his charge has summoned him. But he wants to savor this feeling of being back on Earth, entombed in mortal flesh for the first time in more than two millennia. He relishes in the strange feeling of his immense being contained in Jimmy’s slight form.

Castiel walks. He’s keeping Dean Winchester waiting, he knows, but there is somewhere he needs to go first. At the end of Jimmy Novak’s street, where it runs into a larger thoroughfare, there is a gracefully-aging stone church. Castiel enters through the heavy wooden doors. The church is empty but for a woman mopping the floor in the vestibule; he does not speak to her, saving his new human voice for the man he pulled from the bowels of Hell.

Castiel moves down the aisle and slips into an empty pew facing the altar. He looks at the gleaming brass of the richly carved cross, the glowing candles, the colors of the stained glass windows depicting stories from the Old and New Testament. The air in here feels heavy, and Castiel’s whole being thrums with the close connection to this center of his Father’s earthly domain. The last time he walked among humans, such a place of worship for his Father and his Father’s Son was but a prophecy.

Castiel prays.

He prays for his Father to guide him in his role as the protector and helpmeet that the Righteous Man will need in the coming months. He offers thanks to his Father for the honor of being the one to approach Dean Winchester and reward his faith with all the support of Heaven. He asks that his Father help him to be worthy of such an important task – of rewarding the faith of a righteous man, beloved and chosen by Heaven for an important task.

Castiel rises, takes one last look at the altar. High above it, the central stained glass window holds his eye. He tilts his head and studies the image of Michael piercing the heart of the beast. Castiel closes his vessel’s human eyes and blinks himself away to just outside weathered barn doors.

It is time.

4.02 Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester

The day after his little midnight visitation from the angel, Dean finds himself out of sorts.

He’s not happy that Sam was right, that his skepticism of the existence of angels has been proven wrong. He’s not happy that, instead of being out on the road with the Impala thrumming beneath his hands and AC/DC blasting from the tape deck – soaking up life as any newly-risen Lazarus has the right to do – he’s stuck here at Bobby’s, in the mustiness of the library with two hard-headed research geeks. Dean is not cut out for this kind of work on the best of days, itching to get out, to move around, to rid himself of the nervous energy that has been building up in him like a static charge ever since that damn angel blew the barn doors down and strode into his life just days ago.

Dean slams the musty volume shut and stalks toward Bobby’s kitchen for a beer. He leans back against the sink and talks a long, luxurious pull from the cold bottle. Looking back towards where Sam and Bobby have their heads bent over thick volumes, conferring on some detail or another, Dean closes his eyes as he takes another swallow of beer.

Blue eyes staring into his, so intensely he can feel the gaze bust clean through the back of his skull. Swallowing, Dean breathes in the unfamiliar sent of the not-man, his breath not stale like a man’s, his eyes not blinking like a man’s, his body -- not obeying a man’s customary rules of personal space – pressing Dean’s straight back into the counter, until the sharp linoleum edge cuts into his spine. Dean’s pulse is racing, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up, his throat dry as he swallows convulsively. He cannot move away, as Castiel steps even closer and speaks the words that will haunt Dean for weeks, for months to come. “I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” Hell. Back to hell. Dean’s whole body shivers like an electrical charge has passed through his body.

He opens his eyes.

“Boy,” Bobby calls from the other room, “you fall asleep in there?”

“No sir,” Dean shouts back, as he straightens up and steps away from the counter. “I’m coming.”

“Well, bring me a beer when ya come.” Dean hears the rumble of Sam’s voice. “Bring your brother one, too,” Bobby adds. “And hurry up! The angels ain’t sittin’ around waiting for you to get your head out of your ass.”

“Coming right up!” Dean reaches back into the fridge, and grabs three more beers. Slipping the bottle opener into his pocket, he swallows the last of his now-lukewarm beer, closes his eyes for just a moment – blue eyes and a shock of dark hair, inhuman gaze and power emanating in waves – before forcing them open and stepping out of the kitchen to join the land of the living.

4.03 In the Beginning

Blinking into the dark hotel room, Castiel arrives just in time to see Sam Winchester take a long look at his brother, asleep on top of the covers of his bed, before slipping out the door. Castiel doesn’t need to follow him to know that he’s meeting up with the demon. It’s time for Dean to learn what his brother is doing when he leaves his brother’s side, although Castiel knows enough about his charge to know how devastating such knowledge will be to the one who went to hell to keep his brother safe and alive.

Castiel allows himself to fully materialize and steps across the thick carpet to stand beside the bed where Dean’s trapped in restless sleep. He has looked into his dreams before, even appearing to him in a dream the second time they spoke, so he can imagine the flashes of red, stench of sulfur and burning flesh, shrieks and groans and howls that rend the hellish miasma of Dean’s dream. Watching his charge’s face, he notices the minute twitching of his cheek, the pursing of his lips, the flickering movement beneath his eyelids.

With just a tap of his fingers, Castiel could send him into the peaceful oblivion of soundless sleep. His arm moves forward, then back, as Castiel stops himself from interfering with what he has been told by his superiors is Dean’s proper course of re-entry from Hell – the painful reconciliation of his 40-year experiences to the Dean Winchester that his brother remembers, a process that Castiel has been assured is absolutely vital to preparing Dean for his role in the events to come. Castiel has not been told what that role is, exactly, but he is a good soldier and obeys to his Heavenly orders even though his traitorous arm stretches out each time, wanting to touch Dean’s troubled forehead and soothe his nightly torment.

Stepping around to the other side of the bed, Castiel bends his vessel’s knees to sit on the bed without breaking his gaze from Dean’s sleeping face. The give of the mattress underneath him is unfamiliar and awkward, and he slips forward a bit towards Dean’s shoulder. Castiel jerks his arm forward to keep from tipping onto the sleeping man, but the sudden pressure on the bed causes the mattress to bounce a bit, and Dean stirs from his sleep.

“Hello, Dean. What were you dreaming about?”

4.07 It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

“I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders. I truly don’t.”

Dean holds the angel’s look for a long moment, trying to gauge the emotion or intent behind the startlingly blue, unblinking eyes. He sees empathy, concern, respect, and not a small amount of fear. Dean swallows, breaks eye contact to look out once more at the busy scene on the playground in front of him as Castiel vanishes.

Children chase each other from swingset to slide, dangle from the bars of the jungle gym, kneel intently before their sandy creations in the sandbox. Mothers chase the small wobbling figures of toddlers, clean the new scrape from a bloody knee, pull out a juice box from a bright orange backpack. A father stands behind the swings, pushing a laughing, shrieking pigtailed girl higher and higher.

Dean soaks it all in and breathes deeply. He meant what he said, he thinks as he leans his head back against the park bench and closes his eyes for a moment. He and Sam would not have let this town perish, not for all the seals in the world. The angels would just have to do a better job alerting them to these seals, letting the Winchesters do what they do best – saving people, hunting things – before jumping in full-on smite mode.

Speaking of, Dean did not like the appearance of Cas’s fellow angel. Uriel. What a dick. No wonder Castiel felt compelled to confess his doubts to Dean, a mere human. Uriel didn’t seem like the type to exactly invite that kind of confidence. Dean isn’t quite sure what to make of Castiel, still. Despite his almost-human moment of uncertainty and confusion, and the half-smile that Dean could have sworn graced his mouth for a flash of second before it was gone, Castiel was still an angel. Alien, other, inscrutable, powerful. Un-fucking-knowable. Even though Dean begrudging admits to himself that Cas is growing on him, slowly, that doesn’t mean that Dean trusts him for a second. Not with his life, definitely not with Sam’s, and not with the lives of the thousands of people in this town.

A quiet fluttering and soft breeze announced the angel’s reappearance. Dean groans, but does not move his head or open his eyes against the warmth of the sun on his face. “What now?” he growls instead, not happy at the prospect of more angel one-on-one with Heaven’s Most Baffling.

“I brought pie,” Castiel’s voice rumbles somewhere over Dean’s head. His eyes snap open -- the smell of cinnamon, baked apple, and fresh pie crust clearing his mind of any lingering philosophy. He raises his gaze from the pie in Castiel’s hands to the angel himself, who looks down at Dean with no discernable expression whatsoever. Dean scowls.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, sitting up straight as Castiel resumes his seat on the other bench. Dean eyes the pie on the other man’s lap as Cas reaches into his trenchcoat pocket and withdraws a red-checked kitchen towel and one shiny fork, which he promptly hands to Dean.

“I thought you might like to celebrate the completion of your test by consuming one of your favorite earthly pleasures.” Castiel explains as he places the pre-sliced pie on Dean’s lap. “You do enjoy apple pie, right?” Castiel asks, tilting his head in that birdlike way that makes Dean’s palms itch. “Did I glean that correctly from your memories?”

The warmth of the pie on the top of his thighs rolls up into Dean’s stomach along with the slightly-worried expression on Castiel’s face. Dean smiles, digs his fork into the perfectly-browned pie crust, and raises a golden bite to his mouth. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, Cas. You did good.”

Turning back towards the activity on the playground, Dean almost misses the small half-smile that curls up the edge of Castiel’s mouth before he blinks away with a flutter. Dean swallows the bite of warm apple and cinnamon, feels the sun on his face, and smiles out at the world.

4.09 & 4.10 I Know What You Did Last Summer & Heaven and Hell

When he feels the flash and burn in his grace that is the sign of another angel – a fallen angel -- touching his mark on Dean’s body, Castiel is unprepared for the dark, hot burst of feeling that roils in his abdomen.

Unfamiliar with such emotion, unhappy with the implied tainting of his angelic disposition, he hurls himself away from his spot on a barn roof where he and Uriel had been waiting for the coming dawn and inevitable confrontation with Dean and his brother over Anna. Castiel flings himself across space, not knowing where he’s going, until he ends up at the edge of the North American continent, on a sandy moonlight shore where gentle waves roll and crash.

He sits on the cold, damp sand and lets the sound and motion of the waves beat his vessel’s traitorous heart back into regular, steady rhythm. Whatever drove him here, whatever that misfire of the angelic connection was with Dean, it does not bear examining now. There are important Heavenly matters to attend to, after all.

Deep in the soothing familiarity of prayer, Castiel sits on the empty shore and waits for the light of dawn to creep over the horizon. For once, he does not think of Dean.

4.15 & 4.16 Death Take a Holiday & On the Head of a Pin

On his third day in the hospital -- after the tasteless breakfast of rubbery eggs, after the not-hot nurse helps him in and out of the shower, after the visit from a curiously solemn and sorrowful Sam, after the visit from the physical therapist and the chaplain (a daily visitor ever since a drugged-up Dean told his nurse that a demon did this to him) and the brisk doctor and the giggly young definitely-hot PA, after he’s taken his first long walk (all the way down the hall and back), after a couple of hours of tepid soap operas (would it kill the hospital to add Casa Erotica to the channel lineup, in the name of healing?), and a phone call from Sam to ask what he wants him to bring for dinner -- Dean dozes off. He’s always thankful for these drug-induced naps, if for no other reason than it helps to break the long, monotonous days into shorter periods of conscious boredom.

The first thing he sees when he cracks open his eyes is not the usual, speckled ceiling tiles and florescent hospital lighting. He sees a bunny. A shiny, purple, balloon bunny drifting across his field of vision like a hallucinatory cloud. Dean rubs his eyes to get the sleep out, then cracks them open to see that the bunny has now been joined by balloons of every color, many of which bear messages like: “It’s a boy!” and “Congratulations!” and “Get well soon!”. That last one, at least, seems to belong in his room, so Dean rolls over with a groan to look toward the side of the room where the balloons seem to be coming from.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway, half in and half out of the room, is Dean’s very own slump-shouldered, trenchcoat-wearing, balloon-wielding angel. Castiel’s expression – as Dean has finally learned to discern the subtlest of changes on his face – is caught between eagerness and hesitancy.

Dean decides to throw him a bone. “What’s with the bunny?” he croaks out, his vocal chords still bruised from Alistair’s iron grip around his throat. Castiel steps fully into the room. “Did you steal those from the little girl down the hall or what?”

Puzzled, Castiel tilts his head and looks up as if he didn’t realize there was indeed a three-foot-long purple bunny floating on the ceiling. He looks back at Dean, shaking his head slowly. “The woman in the hospital gift shop was very helpful.” Castiel steps closer to the bed and thrusts the gathered balloon strings into Dean’s hand. “I wasn’t sure what kind you would like, so she allowed me to pick one of each kind of balloon they had.”

Dean takes them, and ties the multi-colored bunch of ribbons around the rungs of the bedrail. He looks back up at Castiel, who still stands there uncertainly beside Dean’s bed, as if at any moment he expects to be yelled at again or tossed out on his ear. Although Dean is still wary of the role Castiel laid at his feet two days ago, not to mention pissed about the whole torturing a demon for nothing thing, he takes pity on him anyway and decides to make a peace offering.

“So, Cas,” he says, reaching for the very first thing he can think of, “you’ve now mastered the fine art of balloons. Ever try Jello?”

4.18 The Monster at the End of This Book

It happens a week after the incident with Lilith, on just another visit to the Winchesters’ current motel room to check on his charge. Dean and Sam sit at the round, scarred wooden table eating dinner while the room’s television blares out what Castiel knows to be a hockey game.

Castiel has nothing new to report, really. Working alone since Uriel’s betrayal -- his death, Castiel reminds himself to acknowledge – he has been rather unsuccessful in uncovering the remainder of the seals that the Winchesters need to protect. He feels somewhat useless, aimless, wandering from place to place in the blink of an eye, waiting for commands from his supervisors that are suspiciously slower to arrive these days.

“Well, don’t let us keep you from your important angel business,” Dean mumbles him around a mouthful of hamburger. His eyes, as well as those of his brother, are glued to the small figures moving across a field of white on the screen. Castiel feels dismissed, and pulls his vessel’s body up to its full height.

“Very well, then.”

In a moment he’s gone, leaving behind a current of breeze and, Dean notices as he compulsively looks over at Castiel’s departure, an object on the floor where he had been standing.

Dean gets up to retrieve it. “Uh, Cas,” he begins to call after the angel, to return the object that clearly fell out of Castiel’s trenchcoat pocket. Then he picks it up and turns it over in his hands. “Son of a bitch!”

“What?” Sam’s interest is momentarily drawn from the action on the screen.

Dean slides his palm over the shiny black cover, blocking out the image of a truck and the words “Route 666” that he wishes he could erase from the memory of the world.

“Nothing,” he assures Sam, as he walks over to his duffel bag on the floor beside his bed. “Just something I’d been missing, that’s all.” Shoving the book deep into the recesses of the bag, Dean straightens up and heads back to the distracting comforts of food and the game. Shaking his head, he tries to get the image of the angel poring through the pages of that particular book out of his head.

“I’m full frontal in here, dude.”

“I admire your work.”

Yeah, he’s got a thing or two to ask Cas the next time he sees him.

4.20 The Rapture

“So, what, now I’m a prisoner?”

“Harsh way to put it.”

“Fine,” Jimmy says abruptly, throwing up his hands. “I’ll stay.” He steps away from Sam and heads into the motel room’s tiny bathroom, slamming the door emphatically.

Sam steps toward the door, but Dean puts a hand on his arm to stop him. They hear the shower turn on. “Let him be,” Dean says to his brother. “If the poor dude hadn’t eaten in a month, imagine the last time Cas let him take a shower.”

Sam grimaces in sympathy. “Yeah, okay.” He glances from the bathroom door to the motel room door. “Look, um, can you keep an eye on him for a while? I need to get some air.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says. “No problem.” He watches his brother’s broad back move out into the night, shutting the door behind him. The only sound in the room is now the sound of someone in the shower, of water hitting tile and tub and body. Dean walks over to his duffel bag and pulls out a pair of sweatpants, boxers, and the least ratty (clean) t-shirt he can find. He lays the clothes on one of the motel beds, and lies down on the other one, wearily covering his face with his arm.

What the hell are they going to do about Jimmy, he wonders. How are they going to keep a grown man a willing prisoner until they can figure out how to protect him -- and from what? Dean’s less than thrilled at the idea of having Castiel’s former vessel around 24/7, but he has little hope at this point that the angel is going to be coming back. He had decided that pretty quickly after seeing non-Castiel scarfing down hamburgers like he was in a 4^th of July eating contest. Dean wouldn’t say he considers Cas a friend, necessarily, but he has to admit that the dude – angel – had been helpful upon occasion. Awkward as hell, but helpful.

Dean hears the water shut off and, after a few moments, the bathroom door open, releasing a cloud of warm steam into the room. “Better?” he calls out to Jimmy. He doesn’t get a response, so he moves his arm off his face, opens his eyes, and sits up.

Jimmy is standing in front of the full length mirror on the wall beside the bathroom. His hands on his face, turning it this way and that, move
down his neck and across his chest. Looking for a scar, Dean thinks, from a stab wound to his heart. Jimmy’s back, pale and speckled with water drops, ripples with the movement of his arms and hands across his chest and abdomen. Dean’s eyes are drawn first to his shoulder blades – wing bones, the thought flashes across his mind, I saw wings from those shoulders – down his back to the cheap white towel wrapped tightly around Jimmy’s slender hips. Dean quickly looks away, although Jimmy is too absorbed in his examination to notice anything else.

Dean clears his throat. “I, uh, left you some clothes on the bed,” he says. “You know. To, uh, sleep in.” He scrubs his hand over his face. What’s with the stuttering, Dean? Not like you’ve never seen another guy in a towel. Hell, he’d seen Sam just like that nearly every day for four years – not to mention every single day before he’d gone off to Stanford.

Jimmmy turns from the mirror to glance at the clothes on the other bed, then looks steadily back at Dean for several long seconds. “I think I’ll wear my own clothes,” he says flatly. He steps back into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Dean flops back on the bed and sighs. Suddenly, an awkward but fully-clothed angel of the Lord is looking like not such a bad thing to have around after all.

4.21 When the Levee Breaks

Castiel leans against the rusting iron wall to Bobby Singer’s panic room. Inside, Sam shouts and curses and fights back against the brother he thinks he sees. Dean, Castiel knows, is actually upstairs with Bobby arguing for why Sam needs to stay locked up for his own good. Castiel regrets the part he has to play, but his superiors were very clear in their latest orders.

Do this, Zachariah had said, or else someone else will. And you, Castiel, will be permanently removed from your post. Let Dean Winchester see how he fares with another, less conflicted guardian.

Castiel imagines one of his brothers or sisters delivering Heaven’s mandates to the less-than-cooperative human. Like Uriel, they would have little patience for Dean’s skepticism, his independence and insistence on finding another way. No, Dean was not at all what Heaven had expected their champion to be. Castiel wonders, for the thousandth time, exactly why he of all the angels was given charge over this stubborn and baffling man.

Sam’s screaming has finally stopped. Castiel reaches out with his mind to find Sam asleep, thankfully in a dreamless state. He senses that Dean, likewise, has succumbed to exhaustion and is now asleep on Bobby’s sofa, an empty bottle on the floor beside him.

Castiel can no longer neglect his heavy duty, lest Heaven grow impatient and send another in his place. He sends one final apology to Dean, looks over at the curved iron door, and raises his hand -- fingers outstretched.

Thy will be done.

4.22 Lucifer Rising

Pacing the floor for the hundredth time, Dean curses Zachariah, Castiel, and all the other feathery bastards who are keeping him stuck in
this gilded cage. Sweeping past the same fussy paintings, uncomfortable furniture, and ridiculous knick-knacks – Wait, when the hell did that angel statue reappear? Didn’t I break that? – Dean comes back around to the table in the center of the room.

The cold beer and pile of aromatic burgers beckon to him after hours of being trapped in this room. But something cautions Dean and delays his hunger. Something Sammy told him when he was a kid, knee deep in books about ancient Rome and Greece. Sam had been in his mythology phase, Dean recalls, and told Dean about some goddess whose daughter – Persephone, he thinks – got dragged down to live in the underworld because she ate something offered to her by Hades. Sam would be proud he remembers that, Dean thinks as he turns away from the platter of burgers once again to resume his anxious pacing.

And runs straight into an angel. “Hello, Dean,” Castiel says in his usual monotone rumble. “I brought you some reading material.”

Dean glances at the stack of magazines in Castiel’s hands and whistles. “Busty Asian Beauties? Oh, man,” he laughs mirthlessly, “I guess this really is Heaven.” The angel blushes, but offers the magazines to Dean – immediately vanishing after Dean grasps them in his hands.

Dean flips through the other titles: Hot Rod (featuring a classic Impala on the cover, though not a ‘67), Playboy (with one of the hot surgeons from Dr. Sexy, MD on the cover), Rolling Stone (with Steven Tyler on the cover), Bird Talk (with a spiky feathered white bird on the cover, cocking its head in a familiar way, the headline “How to Groom Your Pet’s Wings” underneath) --

Dean stops. Reads the headline again. Looks up into the empty room, mouth agape.

Freaking angels, man.

February 27th: Fanmix (love-sick crackhead)

devilyouwere — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 03:01:14 GMT

My last contribution: a ridiculous fanmix.

Title: love-sick crackhead
Warnings: Sam and Bobby stand in for Timon and Pumbaa.
Tracks: 13
Notes: The other fanmix. Ranges from the cute to the overtly sexual. There is also The Lion King. I know you're interested now. Enjoy!

Here at fireworkbrigade

February 27th: Fic (my specialty is living said a man)

devilyouwere — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 22:35:24 GMT

I'm back with fic!

my specialty is living said a man
author: devilyouwere
rating: pg-13
summary: Dean is continually waking from horrible nightmares.
pairings/characters: dean/castiel (michael, sam, ocs)
word count: ~13,400
warnings: character death, mild language
spoilers: blanket spoilers (just to be safe)
author's notes: @ the journal.

( It's almost as if Dean woke up and the world was always this way. )

February 27th: Fanmix (and now you are and i am now)

devilyouwere — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 18:04:12 GMT

Good morning! It's the beginning of my day at the comm and I'm fairly excited. I am offering up two fanmixes and fic, which will come later in the day. For now, I am posting the first of two fanmixes.

Title: and now you are and i am now
Warnings: N/A
Tracks: 12 (with bonus track)
Notes: One of two fanmixes made for the comm. Comes with bonus icons!

Here at fireworkbrigade

Back later with fic and the other fanmix!

Lazarus Coming (fic) something like an epilogue :)

olympia_m — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 07:34:58 GMT

Three months later

Since Dean is jealous and Castiel is happy to make weird little mosaics for people, even if they don’t pay so well, Castiel quits his job. It wasn’t such a hardship, as Dean was afraid. Castiel was considering giving up adult films but he’d wanted to work with Dean first before he left the business.

Dean considers doing something else as well, since sex is no longer fun. Unless if it’s with Castiel, of course. Only he doesn’t know what to do yet, so he bides his time. But he can’t stop thinking that it’s not fair that Castiel has a whole shelf dedicated to his films, and he has none of Castiel’s films. Yeah, he prefers the real thing, and he doesn’t want to see Castiel with others, but what of the films they made together? Wouldn’t they be a nice addition to their collection?

Only problem, when he tries to find them, he can’t find them anywhere. And when he looks for other films Castiel’s made, he finds nothing. As if these things had never existed. As if Jimmy was never there. Everything, short or long feature, is all gone.

Chuck, when he confronts him on the phone, arranges an appointment for him and says he’ll explain then. Only, when Dean goes to Chuck’s office, there’s no Chuck, just a man in his forties in a very expensive suit. When he turns to face him, the similarity with Castiel is unmistakable. “Michael, I presume?” Dean grins and wonders if he should deck him first or leave it for later.

The man nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Winchester.”

Dean stills. Only Castiel knows his real name. Not even Chuck knows that.

Michael smirks. “Did you think I wouldn’t check up on the man who’s sharing my little brother’s life?”

“Well, maybe I thought you’d be more interested in sharing your life with your little brother’s instead of hiding.”

“Castiel wants nothing to do with us.”

Dean glares. “Would you blame him?” From what Cas has told him, and it isn’t much, after their father died, they went to live with their uncle Zachariah. And that bastard ‘touched’ him, as Castiel put it. Kept ‘touching’ him for years, until Castiel ran away. “You behind the disappearance of the films he made?”

“Would you let people see your brother spread his legs for every man like a whore, if you could prevent it?” Michael says with a bitterness that almost makes Dean feel sorry for him.

“I’d stop him from doing that, you bastard,” he says instead. “Not hide the evidence. What’s next in the agenda? Lock Castiel away like a dirty little secret?”

“I’d never do that.”

“I bet your brother would. Raphael.” That’s the only other thing Castiel has told him about his family. That, of all his brothers Raphael is the only one who keeps in touch, and promises to take care of him if Castiel comes back. Castiel hates Raphael too much to ever answer him.

“That’s not true.”

“No wonder Castiel doesn’t want to have anything with you guys. What the fuck do you care what he does anyway?”

Michael’s face falls. His grief is genuine. “Why can’t I care?”

“Because if you cared, you’d have done something years ago. And now? You wouldn’t hide behind your wealth and power to make it as if Castiel never did anything that could tarnish your family name. You’re still protecting yourselves. That’s why you don’t care.”

“I didn’t know,” Michael whispers as he collapses on the sofa. “I had no idea. You have to believe me. For the longest time, I didn’t even know where Castiel was.”

“And now you think you can fix things?”

“If I thought that, don’t you think I would have tried to talk to my brother?”

“But… this makes no sense,” Dean says quietly. “If you had no idea, then why act all guilty? Unless…” And that’s just too much, because older brothers have to take care of their little ones. They don’t let a bastard molest them and they don’t let them go, and…

“I didn’t know,” Michael says avoiding Dean’s gaze, and rubbing his eyes tiredly. “But Luke did, and used it to his advantage. Raphael thought Castiel was spoiled and making things up. Even now, he thinks Castiel is a little liar. And Gabriel, he didn’t know how to tell me because he was scared. By the time he did, it was too late. Castiel…” Michael sighs, and looks well over his age, exhausted and worn.

Dean really feels pity for him now. “Hey,” he tells him softly, and lowers his head until he catches Michael’s gaze. Michael lifts up his eyes slowly, shyly, exactly like his Castiel does when he’s in one of his weird moods. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Michael’s eyes widen as comically as Castiel’s. Like watching fucking Japanese cartoons, the both of them.

“Telling me all that and being scared of meeting your little brother to tell him yourself that you care. What kind of a brother are you?” He snorts. “Get up. You’re not leaving town before you meet Cas.”

Truly, he’s Castiel’s brother in the way he lets Dean manhandle him and push him out of the door. He can’t wait to see them together. As a big brother, he knows he’s doing the right thing, and, as a lover, he can’t wait to see what reward he will get.

He may not have figured out what he wants to do next with his life, but he has plenty of things to keep him busy.

&*&*

Six months later

When the door opens and Dean sees the last person he ever expected to see there, he can’t help but grin. So what if Sammy looks even more bitchy than usual, and like he’s ready to throw down the two six-packs he’s carrying, or worse, throw them at Dean? He can’t blame him; the damned elevator isn’t working again. “Sam,” he says instead, letting his joy show. “You made it.”

Sam makes an even uglier bitch-face as he puts down the beers and mutters something.

“Dude. Sit down. Relax. Have a beer.”

Sam growls.

“Okay, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.” Dean raises his hands but it only seems to make Sam angrier.

“Dean. I was drugged, tied up, flown here and then forced to carry two six-packs to the fucking rooftop. So, yeah, I did get up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Woah. What? What the fuck? You don’t think I would do that, do you?”

Sam studies him, eyes narrowed to slits behind that floppy hair of his. “If not you, then…” He suddenly turns around and glares at Castiel. When did he sneak up on both of them? “Your freaky boyfriend.”

Castiel stares at Dean, muttering, “I’m not freaky.”

“Hey.” Dean glares at Sam. “Castiel’s not my boyfriend,” he says. Castiel looks at him like a wounded animal, and even Sam seems uncomfortable. “At our age, he’s not my boyfriend,” he says proudly. “He’s my partner.”

Castiel gives him the sweetest non-smile as he moves behind him and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. “I like that,” he murmurs over the shell of Dean’s ear.

Sam makes a gagging noise. “The way you act? You’re definitely boyfriends.”

Castiel moves away before Dean can stop him. Damn Sam and his big mouth. “What happened?”

“Someone kidnapped Sam and had him come here,” Dean said.

Castiel’s eyes widen in unspeakable horror.

“Maybe I’m making too much trouble over this,” Sam says, still looking awkward. “It’s not like they…”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” Dean looks around, but he sees nothing threatening. Just the grills, the things for the barbeque and the open door leading downstairs. Sky all around them, and the city yawning below.

“Samuel Winchester.”

Dean turns around and there’s a man standing at the doorway, slight and short, and totally non-threatening looking.

“Or, should I say, Sam Wesson?” The man smirks, lounging indolently.

Sam looks ready to pounce on the jerk, and, for a moment he doesn’t know if he should restrain Sam, or follow him.

“Gabriel,” Castiel whispers behind him.

“Hey, bro. I love what you did with the place. No, wait. This is your special friend’s place, isn’t it?”

Woah, Dean had no idea that Castiel could pull bitch-faces as bitchy as Sam’s. It must be a little brother thing.

Exactly like Dean would do, Gabriel reacts with annoyance. “What? I can’t tease my brother now? Just because you up and went…”

And exactly like Sammy would do in this situation, Castiel stares, speechless with shock.

“What’s wrong with you people?” Dean shouts, as he pulls Castiel to him. “You’re all assholes.”

Castiel glares at him.

“Sorry, Cas, but they are.”

Castiel elbows him and then storms away. Dean’s not exactly surprised when Gabriel follows him, but that means it’s just him and Sam and… “No one’s keeping you here, you know.”

“I might as well stay now that I’m here.”

Dean pulls a chair for Sam and waits until Sam is seated before he opens a beer. “So, how are you?”

“Busy.” When Dean glares, Sam sighs. “What do you expect me to say, Dean? I am busy.”

“Too busy to call?”

“Dean.”

Sam’s whining, and it’s Dean turn to sigh.

“Sorry, Dean, but you know it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, I know you don’t want my career choices to fuck your career, but we’re still family.” Sam’s grimace is equal parts disapproval and equal parts resignation, but what can he do? “Sam, seriously, no one is keeping you here against your will. It was nice seeing you.”

Sam nods as he stands up. He makes it as far as the door, when he stops. Then he turns around and walks up to Dean. “Dean? Seriously, man, your boyfriend is freaky. And so is his brother.”

“What now?”

“They’re there, staring at each other.”

“Ah.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Sam grabs his hand and pulls him towards the door.

Castiel sits on top of the staircase and Gabriel sits right next to him. They’re not doing anything, they’re just staring at each other exactly as Sam said. It is a bit freaky. And then, they both turn to look at them, like they’re doing some group sport.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the Winchester boys,” Gabriel says mockingly as he stands up. “You,” he points a finger at Dean, “have no right to say anything about my family. Yes, we may be having our problems, but at least we love each other. If it weren’t for me, your little brother would still be in Phoenix right now, kissing the DA’s ass.”

“You did this?” Castiel whispers while Dean has to physically restrain Sam from attacking that asshole. “You kidnapped Dean’s brother?”

“Hell, yeah. What kind of a family gathering would this be if Dean’s side of the family wasn’t here?” Gabriel preens. “You guys should be thanking me.”

Castiel makes another bitch-face at Gabriel.

“What? What?” Gabriel shrugs and raises his hands up, the personification of wounded innocence.

“You’re really a jerk,” Sam glares, since that’s the only thing he can do.

“Nah, I believe in good ol’ family values. That’s all.”

Dean doesn’t usually get headaches, but he’s starting to have one. “If you did that, you’d have stood up to your uncle when it mattered, you prick,” Dean tells him while trying to control his anger, and Gabriel shuts up immediately, paling in shock. Yes, it’s a fucking low blow, as Castiel tells him with his eyes, but the jerk deserved it.

“I need a drink,” Sam mutters.

Dean nods. “You don’t get any,” he tells Castiel, who perks up like an overly eager puppy at the mere mention of alcohol.

“I didn’t ask for anything.”

“You’re still not getting any.” He goes back out, where the sun shines so brightly it blinds him for a moment. What the fuck was he thinking? A family reunion? He must have been drunk when he made the suggestion.

“I’m sorry, Sam. My brother can be a little overbearing at times.” Castiel speaks very softly as he talks to Sam, trying to soothe him, or simply feeling hesitant. Dean can’t tell, but whatever it is, he knows that Sam’s a good kid. He’ll get over his anger at Gabriel at some point.

“Yeah, no hard feelings, right?”

Sam doesn’t answer, and Dean smirks as he imagines his brother’s expression. He must pull the bitch-face to end all bitch-faces.

“Dean?” Castiel still speaks softly, but this time, it’s definitely because he’s hesitant. He can see it.

“Yes?”

“You didn’t invite Raphael, did you?”

“No, Cas, don’t worry.”

Castiel heaves a deep, deep sigh. From the corner of his eye, Dean catches Gabriel’s worried gaze. But the next moment, Gabriel smirks and tells something probably insulting, judging from Sam’s expression.

“Cas? Wanna help me with the grill? It’s time we started cooking.”

&*&*

By the time they set everything up, everyone is already there and Dean wonders what possessed him to do this. Sam and Gabriel are arguing about everything, Chuck is drinking himself to sleep in a corner, Jo pretends she’s not glaring at Castiel when she pretends that she’s not looking at Dean with longing, Michael studies Castiel like Castiel is something fragile and broken, and Castiel keeps his eyes down as if he’s scared or ashamed or maybe wishing he were drunk and hopes Dean won’t notice. The only one behaving normally is Ellen, looking at Dean like he’s an idiot.

“I think this was a bad idea,” Castiel whispers, suddenly next to him.

“Yeah, maybe, but it was worth a try.” He doesn’t say that he’s glad Sammy’s there, even if he had to be drugged and dragged to get there. He’s missed the little brat. Well, not so little anymore. “Here, try the pepper.”

Castiel looks at it with distaste.

“I haven’t started cooking the meat yet. The grill is clean.”

Castiel glances at the other grill, the one reserved for vegeterians. Dean has put peppers there too.

“Come on,” he mutters. “Who wants some starters?” He shouts. “I’ve got peppers, cheese, mushrooms.”

“Ooh, can I have a mushroom?” Jo moves so close to him, her perfume makes him dizzy. And a little hard. Cassie used to use that too when she was feeling particularly adventurous. Did Jo know that, or was it just coincidence? She hits him on the head with her plate. “Now would be good.”

“Joanna Beth,” Ellen says, sounding both serious and amused.

Jo makes such cute faces when she’s upset. “But I’m hungry.”

By the time he looks away from her to smile at Cas and offer him anything he wants, Cas is gone, leaving him no choice but to serve Jo first. And then there’s Ellen, Chuck, Sam and Gabriel are still bickering and he’s stuck. By the time he’s finished plating up, Gabriel already complains about how he came for the meat, Jo claims she’s still hungry, and they leave him no option but to continue grilling.

Still, even though he knows Castiel is with Michael, he doesn’t feel at ease.

“Hey,” Sam tells him suddenly. “You’re not the only man in the house.”

“What?”

“Sam’s right,” Gabriel tells him, and Dean feels surrounded and trapped as they circle him. “Let me show you how it’s done, Sammy-boy,” he says as he takes a spatula and pushes Dean aside.

“Oh, yeah?” Sam answers. “Watch and learn, you old geezer.”

Dean knows well when he’s not wanted, and knows even better when he’s being set up. He grins at his brother. “You’re in charge now,” he says, pulling off his apron and passing it over his ginormous brother’s head. That Gabriel moves swiftly to tie it behind Sam’s back is a surprise, but Dean doesn’t think much about it. He fills a plate and goes to find Castiel.

The rooftop is not that big, and Castiel is not there. He’s not at the staircase either, and that leaves Dean’s apartment. Damn; he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to go down. He doesn’t want to be within four walls. It’s such a lovely day, even when filled with awkwardness.

It feels strange going into his own apartment when he knows Castiel and his brother went there to hide. He feels like a creepy stalker, or something, and worse, he acts like one, opening the door very quietly, and trying not to make any noise. Sam would say it’s his eavesdropping tendencies, but it’s really because he doesn’t want to disturb. He wants Castiel to have a family again.

“This is remarkably life-like,” Michael says from the bedroom. “And this too. How many are there?”

Castiel doesn’t answer, and Dean smiles, thinking of what must have drawn Michael’s attention. Castiel’s birds. He must have painted a dozen of them, some in flight over Dean’s bed, some peeking behind the closet, some resting next to the nightstand. They’re not exotic or anything, doves and sparrows and blackbirds and robins, but they’re full of vitality, full of freedom. They’re lively little things.

“You know you’re free, right?” Michael asks what Dean has never dared, but always wanted, since the day he saw his first bird, since the day Castiel first painted it over his bed. “No one knows. Anything. I’ve made sure of that. You’re free, of everything that happened. Free to come back, if you want.”

“My home is here. With Dean.”

“Yes. Dean. He’s an interesting fellow.”

“He’s…”

Dean’s curiosity is an insatiable thing. He peeks inside his own bedroom, like a thief, like a criminal. Michael is sitting primly on the edge of the bed, and Castiel stands before him still, looking downwards.

“He makes me feel new,” Castiel whispers.

“You mean ‘young’,” Michael smiles indulgently.

“New,” Castiel insists. “He looks at me without pity, or shame.”

“Castiel,” Michael sighs.

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel says very softly as he sits next to Michael. “I do it too. But Dean doesn’t, and that’s all that matters to me. You know what I mean?” What Castiel says next makes little sense to Dean. If it’s a foreign language, it’s not one Dean’s familiar with, but it sounds both harsh and melodious.

Michael shivers and looks at Castiel with open wonder. Then he replies in the same strange language, smiling and on the verge of tears at the same time.

Sammy was right; his boyfriend is freaky, and so are his brothers. But it’s his boyfriend, and judging by the way Castiel smiles, smiles properly, brilliantly, happily, his boyfriend just got his family back. Damn, if he weren’t supposed to be hiding, he’d hug them both.

Castiel, still smiling, is the first to stand up. “I’m hungry all of a sudden,” he says. “Are you? Dean’s a great cook. And we’d better hurry, because he has an appetite to match.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “Castiel. You’re not overfeeding your boyfriend, are you? The way you did with your pets?”

“Me?”

Even if Dean hadn’t known, just by looking at Michael at that moment, he would be certain he’s a big brother. One who’s suffered through too many of his little brother’s manias, but indulged them too.

“But Dean’s so happy when he’s eating. You should see his face. It’s radiant. His expression is orgasmic.”

“Ah. I don’t want to hear about you having sex.”

“But I am. Having sex. With Dean. Lots of it,” Castiel adds mischievously as Michael gets more and more embarrassed.

Dean grins. Yes. His Castiel has a family. Now he won’t be the only one suffering.

&*&*

The night finds Chuck sleeping on the sofa, Jo and Ellen back to their place, and they’re still on the rooftop, with Castiel next to him, holding his hand under their brothers’ eyes as if that’s the most natural thing in the world. It takes Dean a few moments to realise that this is normal, that he wouldn’t have given it a second thought if Cassie had been in his arms, so he won’t think it further now either.

“Where I live,” Sam starts, “you can see the stars.”

Gabriel nods. “This sky is fake.”

“You can see the stars from our garden,” Michael says softly. “You should come visit, Dean. It’s beautiful, green and peaceful.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Why?” Gabriel suddenly snorts. “It’s not like we still live with Zachariah.”

Castiel’s fingers will probably leave bruises on Dean’s, so tightly he’s holding him.

“I moved back to Father’s place,” Michael says softly. “You must visit.”

“No, thank you,” Castiel tells him, shivering.

“But it’s such a shame you can’t see the stars from here.” Michael smiles a little. “Although, and this happened when you were so little, you don’t remember, there was this time we’d all gone together with Father on one of his business trips here. We were staying at Father’s favorite hotel and Luke and I were complaining about the same thing: how you couldn’t see the stars from LA. Raphael called us stupid hillbillies, and you,” he nudges Gabriel, “you were too busy hiding Castiel’s toys to care.”

“I don’t remember that,” Gabriel mutters.

“But that’s what you did. That’s when we started calling you Trickster, you know. Because you’d make Castiel cry and no matter how much we looked, we couldn’t find where you’d hid the toys. It was as if you’d made them disappear. And then, you’d present them proudly, from out of nowhere.”

Sam snickers. “Good to know you were always insufferable.”

Gabriel glares at him.

“Anyway,” Michael continues, smiling, “that day you were more insufferable than usual and Castiel wouldn’t stop crying no matter what we did. So, we were all by the pool, being cranky and miserable and waiting for Father to come back, because he was the only one who could ever make Castiel stop.”

“And then what?” Castiel asks timidly after Michael stopped for a while.

“Then Father arrived. I still remember it like yesterday, Luke and I complaining about the night sky at the same time, Rafael complaining about Gabriel, Gabriel holding up Castiel’s favorite little car as if to show he was innocent, and Castiel laughing the moment Father showed up. And Father said, ‘Now I understand what your Mother meant.’”

“What?” Gabriel smirks. “Michael, was there a point to this story?”

“Mother would call us ‘Stars’. Her stars.”

Castiel mutters something in that strange language and Gabriel answers back with a snort.

“What? What?” Sam asks softly, confused.

“I just called Castiel a self-conceited bastard. In not so many words.”

“No, yes. I mean, what was that?”

Michael beams. “That’s our language. Luke and I made it up.”

“And we learned it from them,” Gabriel smiles.

“I didn’t,” Castiel whispers.

“Of course you didn’t,” Michael says proudly. “You learned it all by yourself. Did you know that our Castiel is the genius of the family when it comes to arts and languages?”

“I’m nothing,” Castiel says softly and sullenly.

Gabriel snorts. Then he stretches. “I’m tired.” He stands up and nods towards Dean. “This was an excellent idea. We should do this again sometime. Michael, you coming?”

“Yes.” Michael has to hug Castiel before he leaves. “You will visit, right?”

Sam stands up as well. “I should be going.”

“Where?” Gabriel laughs. Then he pushes Sam forward. “Don’t worry, Dean, I’ll make sure your little brother makes it back to Phoenix.”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on.”

Dean can hear them bickering for at least two minutes. He pulls Castiel to him. “Do you still think this was a bad idea?”

“Do you want to do this again?”

“Maybe? Why not?”

Castiel nods. It’s not an enthusiastic nod, more like an ‘I’ll do it because you want it’ nod, and it makes Dean worry. He presses Castiel against the wall, and licks a line down his neck. Then he blows on it, smiling when Castiel shivers. “You know something, Cas?”

“What?” Cas stretches a little beneath him, a cat demanding to be stroked.

Dean doesn’t disappoint. His mouth latches on that soft spot in the hollow of Castiel’s neck, and he laves it with his tongue. He feels like he could drink Castiel’s heartbeat from there, so fierce, so strong, so passionate. “You were my first,” he whispers and Castiel jumps a little. “I swear,” he says, pulling back just a little. “I’ve never let anyone take me before you.”

“Really?”

“Really. You’re special,” he tells Castiel because he still can’t tell him what he feels, he still can’t tell Castiel that he’s not nothing.

“Hm.”

Even though Castiel sounds incredulous, his body is thrumming with pleasure. His hands are restless on Dean, and his hips are moving to a rhythm that Dean knows well. “We should go back home,” he murmurs as he kisses Castiel’s neck.

“Must we?”

Dean stands up, pulling Castiel with him. “Yes.” He doesn’t want t give a free show to anyone. Or a show. In general. Not anymore. “Hey, Cas?” he says as he moves towards the stairs.

“If I gave up porn, would you be able to keep up with me?”

“What?” Castiel frowns. “Are you saying that you’re only doing films because I’m not man enough to satisfy you?”

Dean shakes his head. “It was just a joke. Never mind.”

“I really don’t understand.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He pats Castiel as he walks down. “What matters is, I don’t want to have sex anymore. Not unless it’s with you.”

Castiel stops and then hurries down the steps. “You. Bed. Now.”

Dean laughs. His Cas may not have much of a sense of humor, but when he gets something, he really gets it. And never lets it go.

&*&*&

Because wanting to quit and actually quitting are two completely different things, as his agent had reminded him, when there’s a phone call two days later, Dean is exhausted after nine hours of filming, and doesn’t have the energy to pick up the phone, let alone go get it. Thank god Cas is there, and he doesn’t mind playing fetch for Dean.

Castiel gives him the phone wordlessly, and Dean’s grateful smile becomes one of pure bliss when he hears Sammy on the other end of the line. “Hey, Sam.”

“Your brother,” Castiel clarifies unnecessarily.

Castiel is Mr Obvious, but it’s one of the things Dean finds amusing about him. He grins. “Yeah, Sam? What is it?”

“Are you alone?”

He watches Castiel go back to checking dinner, and the domesticity of it makes him ache. “Kind of.”

There’s a small pause, and he can imagine his brother all embarrassed and awkward. “Dean. I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead, Sammy.”

Sam takes a deep breath and there’s another pause.

If this means that Sam’s about to tell him that he disapproves of his relationship with Cas, Dean won’t know what he’ll do. He wishes he were strong enough to tell Sam to fuck off, but Sam is Sam, damn it. And Cas is sitting carefully on the other side of the sofa, ready to slink next to Dean and offer him comfort, or jump up, if Dean wants some privacy. “Spit it, Sam.”

“Dean? Are you happy?”

He glances at Castiel. “Yes,” he smiles, and wishes Castiel weren’t there so he could tell Sam that he likes being needed, and Castiel needs him so much. Instead, he gestures to Cas, and he shifts, puppy-like, obedient, until he’s settled next to him. “Yes,” he says again as he embraces Cas.

“Oh.”

“You disappointed?”

“No. God, no.” Sam laughs. “I was just worried. Gabriel had told me that Castiel had been,” Sam doesn’t finish that sentence.

“Don’t worry, Sam. We’re fine.” The first month had been tough, between Cas detoxing and Dean feeling unable to help, but things were good now. He kissed the top of Castiel’s head and whimpered when Cas brushed his hand ‘accidentally’ over Dean’s groin as he shifted closer.

Sam groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re about to have sex now.” He sounded utterly scandalised and shocked.

“Dunno. Are we about to have sex, Cas?”

Cas shrugged. ‘Do you want to?’ His eyes said he didn’t mind if they did.

Sam hung up on him.

Dean laughed. “Fine, let’s have sex.” He wasn’t certain if he could get it up, but as long as he could get Cas off, he’d be glad.

&*&*&

Six months ago

Dean stretches luxuriantly but half-way through he remembers where he is, and with whom, and stops. Castiel’s bed is narrow; if he keeps going, he’ll fall off the bed.

“Good morning,” Castiel whispers to him in a low, sleepy voice that promises that they won’t be leaving the bed any time soon. He shifts, and Dean’s dick slides next to Castiel’s.

Half-hard, hot, it’s tempting. “You want me to fuck you?”

Castiel’s eyes drift half-close, his lips curve into a smile. His breaths mould his body on Dean’s. “You want to?”

He grins and rolls his hips, making Castiel moan. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Why?”

Dean presses downwards. “Why? My ass still hurts, that’s why.”

“Oh, my poor Dean,” Castiel says, without any hint of irony. “Move.”

“Where?”

Castiel frowns, and Dean smiles. Moving means shifting carefully, an unpractised dance routine that leaves Castiel moaning and Dean shivering by the time they’ve changed positions. Dean lays sprawled on his stomach, and Castiel kneels behind him, staring at him. It should have been more awkward, only it’s not. Then Castiel moves.

His hands are warm on Dean’s flanks, his mouth is warmer on Dean’s flesh, his tongue light and wet and curling around the handprints on Dean’s ass. It takes Dean a few moments to realise Castiel is talking to him. “I’m sorry,” Castiel murmurs. “So sorry. Sorry.”

Dean shudders the more Castiel whispers kisses on his skin. And when his tongue dips inside Dean, it electrifies him and makes him jump.

“Shhh. Hush, Dean, hush.”

“Hush?” Castiel has his tongue up his ass and does something with it that ignites every damned nerve in his body. Tiny, restless flicks and broad, wet swipes, and Dean still can’t believe that Castiel has his tongue up his ass and doesn’t give a fucking damn if Dean is clean or not. Castiel is crazy. Completely crazy. And if he keeps doing that, Dean will go crazy too.

“Cas.” Dean’s body tingles as Castiel does something that is both frightful and wonderful. Being opened like that is slow, delicate. Like being touched by a dozen butterflies, caressed by a hundred wings. Castiel is careful with him, and gentle, oh, so gentle. Dean would weep, if he could. “Oh, Cas.”

Castiel sighs and hums in response.

“Please. Castiel.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking, only that he needs it.

Castiel’s fingers are just as gentle, just as slow as they slip inside him and spread him open. Dean feels more wetness, cold for a moment, and then warming rapidly. Had Castiel done that to himself, eased fingers inside him, twisting and scissoring them, so that Dean could later fuck him? The idea is hotter than he expected, Castiel doing to him what he did himself a comforting thought.

“I’m ready,” he says even though he probably isn’t. He needs. Castiel. Now. “Please.”

Castiel is still careful, but his dick is bigger than his fingers. It burns and hurts and frightens him, but that slow, inexorable push fills him up in a way he didn’t imagine. Dean’s flesh surrenders to this invader, and clings to him. He wants Castiel to sink inside him and stay there, he wants him to stop, he wants, he wants, he wants. “Please. Fuck me.”

“Dean,” Castiel whispers and the dull ache inside him changes into sharp sweetness as Castiel strikes his prostate.

For a moment they stay like that, locked like two pieces of a puzzle. Dean tries to catch his breath, and wants the pleasure back. Castiel…. Castiel looks enraptured. Dean wants him. Oh, so much. “Fuck.”

Something in Castiel snaps at Dean’s plea, and when he moves, it’s with the fervour of a zealot. It’s worshipful and wild, and Dean is glad. His heart is glad. His body is at peace. Castiel moves, and he responds. Castiel pulls and he pushes. Castiel comes back to him. He is glad.

&*&*

Eighteen months and an hour ago

The first time Castiel sees Dean Smith, is thanks to Chuck. “Look at that,” Chuck tells him proudly as he presents him with a DVD.

“It’s straight porn,” Castiel grimaces as he glances at the cover. He would have made the same face if Chuck had tried to show him gay porn. He really doesn’t like watching people fuck. Brings up too many bad memories.

“I know, right? Just, bear with me.” He takes the film back from Castiel and puts it in the DVD player. “When will you buy proper chairs? Or maybe a sofa. The room would be so much better with a sofa here.” Chuck chooses the largest pillow there is to sit on. “Have you ever considered it? And what’s that freaky thing up on the wall? Is it Hell? Oh, God, it is. What the fuck? Castiel? Have you been using again?”

“What do you think?” He says it grinning just so he can mess with Chuck’s head. He hasn’t done any drugs in months. Speed doesn’t count and he only takes it when he’s drunk too much.

Chuck shakes his head. “You should stick to alcohol.”

“Maybe I will.” And maybe one day he’ll make a mistake and forget how many pills he’s taken, or he’ll drink himself to death, and then he’ll stop worrying. “I’ll be just like you, then.”

“Hm. You’d wish,” Chuck says as he starts drinking. Chuck’s a good friend; he always brings his own liquor. “Now, watch this.”

He wants to ignore the stupid film and grab a book, but a moment later he sees what Chuck means. The woman is average, but the man, oh, the man is something else. “He has cock-sucking lips,” is the first thing that comes to mind.

“Doesn’t he? I met him at a party the other day and I thought, here’s someone who shouldn’t be limiting himself to straight sex. But before I go ahead and ask him, I wanted your opinion.”

Castiel frowns.

“Well, you know, as a gay person. Would you find him attractive? I’ve been noticing that there’s a growing interest in guys that are more… ‘normal’, let’s say.”

“I wouldn’t call him ‘normal’,” he disagrees. Because that man has to be one of the most handsome men he’s ever seen. It’s not just that he has perfect, ripe lips, he also has eyes that change color and, goodness, he even has freckles. He likes freckles. And he’s altogether beautiful. Even his bow legs are beautiful; they make him look human. He’d be too perfect otherwise, unapproachable, unattainable, enviable.

“I mean, guys who aren’t as buff as your average gay porn star. What do you think? Would you watch a film with him? Well, not you you, but you as a gay person.”

“I might,” he admits.

“Great.” Chuck drinks as he stands up. It’s something Castiel envies; if he drinks and moves, he ends up spilling his drink. He’s clumsy that way. “Speaking of films, would you be interested in doing something next week? Perhaps something more active?”

“Active?” If he wanted to bother with fucking, he’d do something more active, but getting fucked doesn’t require that much work. Some days he can even get away with not getting it up because he’s drunk.

He stares at Chuck until Chuck stars fidgeting and sweating. “Forget I said anything,” he says as he retreats towards the door. “Let me know if you feel like doing anything, okay?” he mumbles as he lets himself out.

“I will,” he texts Chuck a moment after he hears the door close. If he feels like it. But for the moment, he’s going to watch that amazingly handsome man. It’s strange, but for the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel sick watching two people have sex. Instead, it’s making him uncomfortable. It’s making him hard. How very odd.

Just to test that it’s not a fluke, Castiel buys more of the man’s films. It’s not. He learns that his name is Dean Smith. He’s younger than him, born in January 24, and according to an interview, enjoys ‘sunsets, and walks by the beach.’ He’s depressingly straight, and Chuck keeps him up to date with the man’s romantic affairs, without suspecting that Castiel is interested in more than gossip about a colleague.

When Dean agrees to work with Chuck, Castiel becomes an even greater fan of both Chuck’s and Dean’s work. Sometimes he’s scared Chuck will notice that he cares about a co-worker. Sometimes, he hopes that Chuck will notice that, and do something about it. When he realises that Chuck remains oblivious, it takes him several months before he gathers the courage to ask Chuck if he could arrange for them to do a film together.

It’s very unprofessional of him, but he thinks he likes Dean. He’s been watching Dean’s films and, the more he watches, the more he’s amazed and attracted to him. Not because of his beauty, although that too is amazing. What Castiel likes is that Dean is always gentle. It doesn’t matter if he’s with a man or with a woman, he’s kind and patient. He laughs a lot during scenes, like sex is something fun and enjoyable and not just mechanics. He cares about his partner’s pleasure, even if the script demands rough play. Dean is there, one hundred percent, devoted to his work and attentive. God, he likes Dean.

So, when Chuck tells him that he’s arranged things, he even makes an effort to stop drinking that much for a while. He doesn’t want Dean to find him annoying, a drunken ex-junkie that doesn’t care about anything. But as the day of the filming approaches, the more scared he becomes. Why on earth should Dean like him? He is a drunken ex-junkie, after all, who likes nothing and cares for no one.

Dean will hate him, won’t he?

The day of the filming, he gets drunk before he goes to the set. He can’t meet Dean sober, he can’t. Unlike speed, alcohol doesn’t make him feel stronger or braver. But it makes him feel detached enough to deal with anything. Fuzzy and out-of-focus, and he can deal with Dean being professionally gentle and kind when he wants Dean to be his.

Lazarus Coming (fic) 3/3

olympia_m — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 07:32:55 GMT

A slice of pie with ice-cream and a walk later, Dean drags Castiel over to the movie theater. “Look, they’re playing Avatar. It’s the 3-D version too. And there’s hardly any queue. What do you say?”

Castiel shrugs. Dean’s beginning to like that. Castiel can be so quiet at times, but it’s a good kind of quiet. Like he cares, really listens and understands. And wants exactly what Dean wants.

“Great. You get the popcorn, I’ll get the tickets.” And with that, he pushes Castiel inside, and gets in line.

The film is all that he expected, and more. Every now and then he nudges Castiel, full of excitement. The special effects are amazing, and the story isn’t bad either. Castiel smiles at him every time Dean does that, and so he continues, throughout the film.

“That was just awesome, wasn’t it?” he says, unable to hold back his enthusiasm as they sit down to share a pizza. Unlike Sammy, Castiel doesn’t say he has a bottomless pit for a stomach, and unlike Cassie, he doesn’t roll his eyes and reaches for his ‘love-handles’ when he orders a double cheese, double bacon, double pepperoni pizza.

“I guess so.”

“What do you mean, ‘you guess so’? This was the best film ever.”

Castiel shrugs.

“And that blue chick? Man, can you imagine sex with her? The things she would do with her tail.”

“A human would be half her size.”

“Your point?”

Castiel frowns, perplexed.

“It would be like…” Dean lowers his voice, just in case. “I watched that film the other day, with a midget and a normal woman. Believe you me, there were no problems there.” He raises his eyebrows a couple of times, and wonders if he should continue when their pizza arrives.

“You watch that stuff?” Castiel asks the moment their waiter is gone.

“You don’t?” If Castiel thinks that his silence is a good answer, then Dean has another think coming for him. “You’re a guy, you must watch porn. You seriously mean that you never? Ever? Man, that’s weird.”

Castiel rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable and suddenly shy. He refuses to look away from his plate as he pushes the slice Dean put there from one side to the other. “I do, but…”

“But?” God, this really amusing. Castiel is blushing. Actually blushing. He can’t help but tease. “You watch stuff that would make me blush, right? I know, you’re into BDSM.” Castiel raises panicked eyes. “No, I got it. Scat.” Castiel shakes his head. “Rubber? Fucking machines? Watersports?”

“No, no, no. I…” Castiel looks delicious embarrassed. Even more delicious than the pizza in front of Dean. “I have favorite actors. I only watch them.”

Dean laughs. That’s not the weirdest thing he’s ever heard; but it’s oddly innocent. “That’s all? You almost had me there, Cas.” Castiel’s expression, still awkward but now also strangely happy, makes something twist and ache inside him. “How the fuck did you end up here?”

Castiel blinks.

He really put his foot in it, didn’t he? “How do you like the food here?” he asks after a while, when he realises that Castiel won’t answer, and won’t stop looking like he can’t find the words to tell Dean to mind his own business.

“It’s fine.”

“Good. Good.” And since Castiel still looks weird, or maybe a little hurt, Dean starts telling him about the time his dad had rented a room in a motel that proved to be haunted by the funniest ghost ever. “The poor thing just liked to play. Its favorite game was hide and seek.” The more the story progresses, the more Castiel relaxes, and that’s all that matters.

When it’s time to part, Dean pretends that he doesn’t notice that Castiel looks tense, and ready to ask again if Dean will fuck him. He waits until they’ve walked back to his building, and there pushes Castiel inside the entrance, up the darkened stairs, and kisses him until he needs to breathe. He kisses him to reassure him that it’s okay if they don’t have sex right after their first date. That he won’t leave Castiel if Castiel doesn’t put out. That he likes Castiel. He likes him a lot.

When Castiel breaks their kiss - their fifth, their tenth, their twentieth? as if he keeps count - Dean wonders if maybe he should invite Castiel upstairs for a drink, or something. They’re not teenagers any more, and his dick protests that all that humping with no hands touching is just not fair. But Castiel pulls away, reaches for his pocket and takes out his wallet. Then he turns the light on and shows him a picture that is almost as old as Dean’s photograph of his family.

“That’s the only picture of my family I have,” Castiel whispers and lets Dean study it. “That’s Father,” he says reverently, pointing at the middle-aged man in the middle. He has the same jaw and nose as Castiel, and looks full of justified pride surrounded by all his children. They look like a proper family, posing to a professional.

“Mother died when I was born,” Castiel explains in an even softer voice. “That’s Michael,” he says showing Dean the oldest of his brothers, a sixteen-year-old with a steady, calm gaze, looking far too serious for his age. “That’s Luke.” Luke is slightly younger, clearly bored, rolling his eyes upwards as he looks away from the camera. “That’s Raphael,” all legs and arms, awkward like he’s unused to being so tall, fourteen at most. “And that’s Gabriel,” grinning and putting his arms around Castiel, and Dean can easily imagine him bouncing at the balls of his feet, an overactive ten-year-old that doesn’t stop for anyone. And Castiel is perhaps too serious for an eight-year-old, but he smiles nevertheless, and he looks quietly happy.

“Who’s that?” he asks, pointing at the German shepherd next to Castiel. The dog is huge compared to the child Castiel, and the way it reaches up towards him, one massive paw on Castiel’s chest, is proprietary and frightening.

“That was Dog.” Castiel’s voice wavers. “He was put to sleep,” he says after putting the picture back in his wallet. “Because he was disobedient.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he says, feeling useless and sad, and not knowing what to say.

“It’s… it was a long time ago.” Castiel doesn’t bother turning the light on when it goes off. Instead he kisses him again, chastely. “Good night, Dean.”

“Good night.” He still doesn’t know what to say, but when Castiel must be by the door, judging by the sound of his footsteps, he finally does. “Tomorrow,” he shouts. “Are you doing anything? Wanna meet up for dinner?”

Castiel doesn’t reply but while Dean climbs the stairs, his phone beeps with a new message. ‘Yes.’ Yes. Yes.

&*&*

By the time Chuck calls Dean asking if he’s free for another little thing, Dean and Castiel have been to one French restaurant (who would have known that duck in chocolate sauce was good?), one Mexican (it turns out Castiel really loves stealing Dean’s nachos), one Italian (pizza never disappoints), and one memorable occasion, have had coffee and cakes in the Zoo café after going there to see the birds (Castiel loves anything feathery, and they in turn love him; in fact, it would be creepy if it weren’t adorable). And they’ve made out. A lot. Dean’s still holding back, answering Castiel’s silent question with kisses, but he knows it won’t be long before they make love. He wonders how it will be. Like the films they’ve made? No, it will be better. It will definitely be better.

“Dean? Dean? My god, what has happened to you? You’re smiling.” Ruby sounds horrified.

“Shut up.”

She flips him the finger. “You shut up. And stop grinning. You’re scaring me.” She shudders for dramatic effect.

“What’s going on?” Chuck stares at him for a while, and then blinks. “You’re smiling.” He takes a quick swig. “I’m not hallucinating this, am I? You look happy.”

“I’m always happy.”

“Not like that you’re not.”

“Oh, come on. I’m….”

Ruby nods. “It’s true. You’re different.” She makes it sound like a curse.

Chuck shakes his head. “Jimmy told me, but I couldn’t believe it,” he mutters.

“So, he’s told you about us?”

“He did.” Chuck jabs his finger on Dean’s chest. “And as I told you before, I don’t want to see either of you get hurt. So, be careful.”

“I am, I am.”

“You’re what, Dean?”

“Jeez.” How Castiel manages to surprise him every time is something Dean hasn’t figured out yet. He gives him a smile that turns into a full-blown grin the moment Castiel smiles back.

Castiel takes a step back, and Dean knows he keeps from touching him. And that’s other thing he hasn’t managed to understand, how Castiel looks lovelier to him each time they meet. This time, Castiel’s wearing a pale blue tee-shirt shirt under a dark blue shirt and an even darker pair of blue jeans, and oh, he looks good enough to eat. Thank god he won’t have to wait too long before he can strip Castiel naked and fuck him to the mattress.

Speaking of which. “Why are we here, Chuck?”

Chuck pretends not to understand. “Making a film, of course.”

“Yeah, but…” He points around at what is clearly a classroom. “Where’s the bed?”

“You didn’t read the script, did you?” Ruby scowls. “All brawn and no brain,” she says mock-whispering.

“Dean has more brains than most people,” Castiel jumps to his defence.

Dean swears his hair has risen at least an inch higher. Like an angry, feathery thing defending its mate. It’s sweet. And unnecessary. “It’s alright, Ca… Jimmy. She’s just jealous because she has neither.”

“Ooh,” Ruby mutters. “Let me tell you,” she starts, when Chuck pushes her away.

“Enough. Dean, why don’t you have a look at the script?”

“Sure.” Though why he does that is beyond him. “It’s all predictable, isn’t it?” he whispers to Castiel, winking.

“Yes.” Castiel looks over his shoulder. “Will you stick to it today?”

“Nah.” A glance around him assures him that no one’s watching them, and so he stealthily pats Castiel’s ass. “I’m going to improvise.”

“Hm.” Castiel moves away, but not before returning the favor. “You really deserve to be punished.”

Dean laughs. “We’ll see.”

&*&*

After reading the script, the choice of location makes sense. Dean tries to look serious and focused for the first scene, where all the crew members that are not busy, have been recruited as Dean’s co-students. It’s not that difficult. Castiel holds all his attention. He hasn’t changed, but he’s now wearing an additional item: the stupidest glasses Dean has ever seen. Horn-rimmed and retro-looking, they are definitely stupid. And make Castiel look like a fetishist’s wet-dream. Forget the sexy librarian look; Castiel rocks the hot teacher look, dressed casually enough to make his students comfortable, and looking serious enough to make them want to jump him, muss his hair and get spanked on top of the desk for their audacity.

“I’d totally hit that,” he whispers.

Ash, occasional gofer and permanent fixture in Chuck’s crew, leers at Castiel. “I bet.”

Castiel is thankfully oblivious, but Dean feels a strange pang in his chest, and a kind of anger he’s never felt on set before. He doesn’t want Ash looking at Cas, undressing him with his eyes. That’s Dean’s job.

“Any questions?” Castiel puts down his notebook, looks around and smiles. “That’s all then. See you next week.” As the others move away, he raises an eyebrow. “Mr Smith, a moment please.”

Dean huffs. He’s not pretending to be annoyed; he is. He hates wanting Castiel all to himself. It’s a first for him, and it’s strange. Castiel is a co-worker first, and his… well, almost-lover second. Dean can’t make any demands on him. But he wants to. How he wants to. “What now?”

“Mr Smith, I understand that coming back to college after so many years is difficult, but that is no excuse for the low quality of your work.”

He snorts.

“Mr Smith,” Castiel says sternly.

Dean doesn’t know if it’s because he’s forgotten his lines, or because Castiel is really impatient. Fuck, he will have to adlib this one, won’t he? “Is there anything I can do to make this up to you?”

“It’s not me you should be ‘making it up to’,” Castiel says patiently, every bit the good teacher.

“Even so, maybe there’s something I can do to get better marks. Some extra-curricular activity, if you catch my drift?”

Castiel frowns. He looks even more confused than usual with the glasses on. Clueless.

Dean sighs as he pushes Castiel against the desk and traces his chest over the thin fabric. That’s not acting. That’s truly Castiel, studying people at restaurants when they do the commonest things, studying Dean as he eats pie, studying everything and everyone like he’s just been let out of a cage, or maybe the world is a big and noisy zoo he finds both fascinating and frightening. He hates that others get to see his Castiel like this and so he moves in front of the camera.

It doesn’t last long, of course. Castiel looks shocked and Chuck orders him to go on, damn it, and so he slides down to his knees, palming Castiel’s dick. “You know,” he says, sounding like the sleaziest sleaze ball ever.

“Mr Smith,” Castiel chastises him but his body moves helplessly towards Dean, hips pushing slightly forward.

“Shhh. You’ll see. This is definitely worth extra credit.”

Castiel falls silent as Dean unbuttons his jeans and lowers the zipper. He snorts for a second on the glimpse of black boxers, shivers when he touches silk, and then, looking up, at Castiel staring at him still shocked and embarrassed, like he really does something he knows is wrong but can’t help himself, tongues Castiel’s cock over the fabric. The silk leaves a strange aftertaste, but Castiel’s dick is already hard and hot and pulsing and the more he licks it delicately, the more Castiel shivers. He likes that.

It doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing, exactly. This is work, and when Castiel starts moaning like a pro as Dean finally pulls his dick out and takes it in his mouth, Dean can’t help but feel betrayed. He wants to have sex with Castiel, not with his co-worker Jimmy. He wants to do it off-camera, without any lights around them, or others watching. And he wants to be the only one who does this with Castiel.

He looks up, at the long lines of Castiel’s arching body, a bow that flexes as if Castiel’s all light and air beneath that skin of his, and he’s getting bitter and angry. In the past two weeks they’ve been dating, learning each other’s likes and dislikes, and sharing kisses like frustrated teenagers, how many others have seen Castiel like this? This is work, damnit, but this is Castiel.

Dean lets go of Castiel’s dick with a pop. It’s all wet and sticky when he takes it in his hand as he stands up. “I’m gonna fuck you now,” he tells Castiel, stroking him furiously.

“That is enough, Mr Smith,” Castiel says, trying to sound serious but his voice comes out broken, moaned, whispering.

Was that in the script? He doesn’t remember and he doesn’t give a fuck. What’s wrong with him? Work had always been work, but Castiel is different, pulsing against him like a live wire, and Dean can’t stop touching him. His hands will never be free when he has the whole of Castiel to map. Castiel’s eyes finally close and his head falls back, and he allows Dean to push him on the desk and, fuck, this should be a ridiculous thing, only it isn’t. Dean can’t be bothered to take off Castiel’s jeans completely, fumbles with one leg until he removes it and lets the other where it is, and pushes aside the silken boxers until he can see Castiel’s hole. He hopes Castiel is prepared because he can’t wait, can’t stop, can’t hold back. Not with him.

“I’m gonna do it now. Ready?” He doesn’t wait for Castiel’s answer, and pushes inside. Castiel’s impossibly warm around him, slick and tight and Dean slams his hips forward until he’s buried in him completely. Castiel looks beautiful like that, like Dean’s the only thing grounding him, like Dean’s making him feel both pain and ecstasy. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Castiel frowns, biting his lips. “You. Move. Damn it,” he orders glaring at him.

“Maybe I don’t want to. This feels good.” He rocks slightly and Castiel moans. “So good.” He pulls away and then forces himself inside. The more he thinks of how many others might have fucked Castiel while they have been dating, the more he wants to erase them from Castiel’s memory, and replace them with himself. He wants Castiel to feel this, him, for days. He wants, when the next person fucks him, Castiel to be feeling him instead.

He doesn’t even let Castiel come even though the guy is close. No, he wants Castiel to come when he does, or as close to that as possible. He slows his hand as he slows the movement of his hips and it doesn’t matter that Castiel pleads with him with his beautiful eyes and his sweet mouth and his trembling body. No, they’re doing this at his pace. And he wants it to last.

It’s such a smooth, sweet ride, after all, and the more he moves, tiny, butterfly-like movements that send sparks down his spine and make Castiel shiver and gasp for him, the more he’s convinced that Castiel was made for him. The more he’s certain he must make Castiel realise that, if Castiel doesn’t know that already. The more he wants.

And the more he wants, the angrier he becomes because when the fuck did he start mixing up work with personal life? It’s not Castiel’s fault. No, there must be something wrong with Dean, in Dean, something that can’t see boundaries any more. Something vicious and primal. Something fierce. It’s that, not Dean, that wants to mark Castiel as his. It’s that, not Dean, that suddenly speeds up and tightens his hold on Castiel’s burning dick, his fragile-looking wrist. It’s that, not Dean, that pulls Castiel up, folds him almost in two in his arms as he slams his dick inside Castiel, and makes him dizzy with desire. It’s that, not Dean, that makes him bite Castiel as he cums, flesh soft beneath his teeth, blood rich and heavy on his tongue. It’s all that. Not Dean. That spasms and trembles and doesn’t care if he’s crushing Castiel as long as it finds release. That finds release, white-hot, frightening, tasting of blood, and drowning out any words Castiel is whispering to him.

“That is enough,” Castiel finally shouts and this time Dean hears him, coming out of the haze of his orgasm with a crushing speed that leaves his insides twisted in knots.

He almost drops his partner, and Castiel winces as he pulls out. His neck’s still bleeding where Dean bit him and his glare is genuine.

Of course, Dean turns to Chuck, realizing how everyone looks at him horrified. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did. Fucking asshole.”

“I’m not done,” Castiel growls. “Start the cameras.”

Dean shivers. “It’s not…”

“Shut up, Mr Smith,” Castiel tells him forbiddingly and it’s like a hand reached inside his throat and snuffed all the words out. “That behaviour was unacceptable. Put your hands on the desk and bend over. Now.”

Dean ignores how Castiel doesn’t look ridiculous half-dressed like that, with semen dripping down his thighs and blood stains on his collar. He looks pissed-off, and Dean deserves whatever he gets. He assumes the position.

“Usually, I am against corporal punishment, but this is an unusual situation.” Dean feels Castiel pull down his jeans and boxers at once. The air that hits his ass makes him shiver, but Castiel runs his hand across his skin next and, even though the touch feels oddly clinical, his fingers are warm. “I want you to count after each strike, and say ‘Thank you, Sir.’ Understood?”

He nods.

“Understood?”

The bastard wants words, but Dean deserves this. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” There’s a smile in Castiel’s tone, but before Dean can bask in it, Castiel hits him. He doesn’t hold back, and it stings.

It takes him a minute to remember his orders. “One. Thank you, Sir.”

The sting gets worse the second time Castiel hits him, but he remembers immediately this time. “Two. Thank you, Sir.”

It takes him a while to understand that Castiel (Bastard, Total Bastard) has a plan. First one cheek. Then the other. Then up. Then down. Then where he hit him first. And each time, he thinks Castiel hits him harder. His ass moves from stinging to burning to painful to unbearable agony. His voice breaks. “Twenty-five. Thank you, Sir.”

But Castiel is relentless, and Dean’s tears are real too. “Thirty. Thank you, Sir.”

But so is his arousal, because that’s Castiel marking him, and when he puts his clothes back on, he will feel Castiel’s hands. When he sits down to drive, he will feel where Castiel touched him. When he goes home, he will ache. And it will be good. Because it was Castiel who did this to him.

“You’re an animal,” Castiel whispers in his ear and, even though his touch on Dean’s ass is meant to be soothing, it only ignites Dean, and brings him to a shattering orgasm. He collapses on the desk, banging his forehead, but it only adds to the confusion that fills his body. Pain is pleasure, the absence of pain is pleasure, and Castiel is pleasure itself.

“Cut,” Chuck shouts. “What the fuck was that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He stops so that he can drink. “Not that it wasn’t hot, fuck, I think I came in my pants and that’s NEVER happened to me, but what’s wrong with you?”

“I could ask the same thing,” Castiel asks Dean, staring at his hands with distaste for a moment and then, suddenly aware of his state of half-dress, starts stripping. “You’d better have an answer when I get back from my shower.”

Dean peels himself off the desk, wincing and biting back a whimper. Now that he’s cum, he feels nothing but pain.

“Here,” Ash says, offering him the first-aid kit. “There must be something useful there.”

“Thanks.”

Chuck refuses to look at him. A moment later he goes after Castiel. And Dean must either come clean, or lie, and doesn’t want to do either. Fuck. “I need a shower,” he tells everyone and rushes after Chuck. He’s not a coward; he won’t start being one now.

The showers are in the basement of the college, so it takes him a while to get there, but when he finds them, it’s not the sound of water he hears first. It’s the sound of retching. Shit. But that also means that they can’t hear him as he comes in, and hides in a nearby stall, climbing up the toilet seat so they won’t see him.

“You should have let me stop it,” Chuck reproaches Castiel.

“It wasn’t rape, Chuck. Believe me, I know,” is Castiel’s answer, low and broken and bitter.

“It looked like one.”

“You said it was ‘hot’,” Castiel says quietly.

“Fuck. It’s not… Yeah, it was kinda hot seeing Dean out of control; he’s usually so considerate towards everyone… He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Chuck asks a minute later.

“No. But… I think he was trying to punish me.”

What the fuck?

“Why?”

“Because I’m a tease. We’ve been dating for two weeks and we haven’t had sex yet. I think he’s bored with me.” Castiel makes a strange noise. “But he can’t say it.”

Dean almost falls off the seat when he hears that. Him? Bored? Now that he finally knows how Castiel likes his coffee, that he prefers waffles to pancakes, and that he never eats eggs sunny-side up? Now that he finally has all the ingredients for making Castiel the perfect morning-after breakfast?

“Zachariah was right; I’m only good for fucking.”

That Zachariah? Dean wants to meet him so he can smash his face in.

“Zachariah was a lying bastard. Cas, you have to get over what he did,” Chuck says.

“I tried, Chuck, I tried. Why did you think I asked to punish him? I thought I’d be brave for a change, and confront Dean for hurting me, but… It only made me feel like a bully. I’m good for nothing. Hapless, hopeless. Useless. And these? I always make stupid decisions when I’m taking these. I feel so good, so strong, but I’m nothing. Nothing.”

There’s another sound, something hitting the water, and then flushing, that almost hides Castiel’s moan, and Chuck’s “what are you doing?”

“That’s it. I’m done with these.” Castiel almost sounds brave.

“But you still have to get out of here and confront Dean,” Chuck says reasonably, almost as if he wants to make Castiel regret throwing his source of courage down the drain.

“You think he’ll be there, waiting? This is real life, Chuck, not a film.”

“But what if he is? Castiel, are you sure you want him? He hurt you and, don’t look at me like that, I saw what he did.”

“What I want is unimportant. Dean doesn’t want me. Zachariah was right about that; no one will ever want me after him.”

“Goddamnit, Castiel. Zachariah is…”

“Businessman of the year and a pillar of the community.”

“And a fucking liar and a child-molester. God.” Chuck sounds so exasperated that Dean is certain he’s pulling his hair as he speaks.

“Still…”

“Cas, promise me this. If Dean is out there, you will make him understand that you won’t put up with him hurting you ever again. Even if Dean doesn’t want you, if you can promise me this, I will make sure that Dean will work with you again and until he changes his mind. I will help you, but you must help yourself too. Alright?”

Despite what he did, he has Chuck’s blessing. Chuck is a good friend. He falls off the seat at that. He didn’t expect it. Only he lands on his ass and it fucking hurts. It hurts, damn it, and he howls without shame.

“Dean?” Two stalls away and beneath the partitions, Castiel looks straight at him.

“Erm... Hi,” he manages weakly, despite the pain.

“Oh, fuck,” Chuck mutters as Castiel moves up fast, but not fast enough to prevent Dean from seeing an embarrassed flush spread all over his face. Chuck bends down next, and glares at him. “Have you been here long?”

“No.”

“Right,” Castiel mutters. Seconds later he’s staring, no, he’s glaring at Dean from the top of the door. “Open this now.”

“Must I?”

Castiel kicks it. “Break up with me like a man, you bastard.”

“I don’t want to break up with you.” Dean stands up carefully, and opens the door as Castiel looks at him in full confusion mode. “Of course I don’t wanna break up with you.” Dean glares at Chuck, and Chuck slinks away, cradling his bottle and muttering something or other about going upstairs.

“Then what was that about?” His vague gesture encompasses the technically-rape-but-let’s-all-pretend-it-wasn’t, the possessive bite, the stalking. Everything.

“I got jealous,” he answers truthfully. He can lie to others, but not to Castiel when he looks so lost. This world is definitely a wild and frightening place for Castiel; Dean won’t make things worse for him.

“But…” Castiel sighs. “We really need to talk. Let’s go.”

A relatively long drive later that Dean spends worrying, and trying to ignore how worried he is, Castiel pulls up in front of Ellen’s place. God, things must be serious if Castiel is bringing him to the place of their first date. He really doesn’t want to get out of his car, but then Castiel taps at his window and he has no choice.

Castiel even waits until they’re seated and Ava takes their order before he speaks. “What were you jealous of, Dean?”

“Others.”

“There are no others but you,” Castiel tells him seriously.

“Other actors.” His head falls down as if his neck can’t deal with the weight of his thoughts. “I know, work is work and personal life is personal, but, you were there and I… I couldn’t stand it.”

Castiel blinks.

“The thought of them, fucking you,” he says in a voice that’s low and full of shame. “I couldn’t stand it.”

“You’d want me to stop working?” Castiel asks, curious.

“I dunno. It’s wrong, but yes? Would you want me to?”

“No.” Castiel’s answer is immediate. “I really admire your work. I would hate to be the reason for you to stop acting. You’d be wasting your talent, for what?”

“For you.” It’s easy to reach across the table and take Castiel’s hand in his. “I don’t care what happened to you, although if I ever find that bastard who hurt you, I will kill him. You’re special.”

“Special.” Castiel rolls the word around in his mouth, like it’s something strange and awkward and unexpected.

“Not in general.” Damn, why can’t he say it? Instead he squeezes Castiel’s hand. “You’re not useless, Cas,” he says instead.

Castiel’s eyes shine a little too brightly. He suddenly turns around, and there’s Ava bringing their pies. “We’ll take these to go. Dean?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Whatever Cas wants, he wants.

“Will you come home with me?”

He falls off the seat in his hurry to leave, and Castiel almost laughs.

Castiel’s home is an attic and is smaller than his, the kitchen one with the living room and both sparsely furnished. But there are plants in the bathroom, and a mosaic with pebbles and smoothed pieces of glass on one of its walls. Dean can’t make out its pattern, but it looks painstakingly and carefully made, so he doesn’t say that it’s weird and reminds him of magical symbols and such stuff. Castiel’s bedroom is also small, there’s barely enough room for a single bed and a closet, but when he opens a side-door he finds himself in a wide room with glass on one side, and the most amazing view of the city he’s ever seen from a private house. It’s amazing, as amazing as the rest of the room, where bookcases line the long wall and yet books still spill over and are piled onto the floor. There are DVDs too and CDs and it takes Dean a few minutes of browsing to realise they’re all arranged thematically (and his films have their own section, to his embarrassed astonishment). This is where Castiel really lives, among his books and his music, where he sits, on the floor with the thick red carpet, and the fluffy pillows, where he is himself, with the painting of the Trinity on the wall, and the statue of a radiant Buddha in front of it. It’s all amazing, but nothing is as breathtaking as how Castiel’s hesitant and shy expression turns happy when Dean kisses him and promises to never let him go.

And what would you know? That night they don’t make love either. They huddle under the covers and stay close to each other, silently and quietly, until they fall asleep. But they do the next morning and it’s better than anything they ever did.

This is real life, but it’s better than a film.

The end