Not Inclined To Resign To Maturity

The Protector (J2, AU, R)

2018-01-13T22:46:41Z

Title: The Protector
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 1.900
Warnings: none
Summary: Jensen is Jared's personal bodyguard. It's a tough job mostly because Jensen has a huge crush on the musician.
Author’s Note: Written for greatwall0fsam as pinch-hit for the spn_j2_xmas exchange. t's a little late for Merry Christmas, so Happy New Year!

=> AO3 <=

“The eagle has landed. The eagle has landed.” Jared came up to him, arms spread out wide, practically screaming the last bit in his ear. He was excited, still bouncy and high from his set. It must have been a great one. Good. Jensen was relieved.

“Hey there, G-man,” Misha greeted him, following on Jared’s heels as always and Jensen gritted his teeth. He’d long given up on correcting them. Jensen was neither wearing an ear-piece nor was he FBI.

Jared went straight to the beverages, fishing out a large water bottle and finishing it in one go, half of it sliding down his chin and getting his already clingy shirt just that extra bit more wet. Jensen watched him and swallowed hard. Damn. He knew when he accepted this job that working with someone he had a major crush on was gonna be tough, but did his self-preservation instincts kick in? Of course they didn’t.

Misha went straight for the vodka. However, he chased it down with a bottle of water Jared pressed into his hands with a look. “Thanks, baby,” Misha thanked him sarcastically, leaning in and kissing Jared’s cheeks. All the while looking at Jensen as he did it, the little fucker. He knew Jensen was jealous, and he played it up.

Jared waved him off, but he was blushing. Jensen moved closer, hovering in Jared’s space. He was here to protect him after all. He didn’t perceive any threats right now – that asshole Misha none withstanding – but whatever. It was what he was paid to do.

Jensen wasn’t a bodyguard, per se. In fact, he was nothing more than a glorified roadie if you asked his paycheck, but he was here to protect Jared none the less. Jared had gotten increasingly disturbing fan mail and after one of his groupies had gotten past security and jumped on him just as he was getting off the stage, causing him to crash and injure his right arm, well, Jensen was hired as personal security.

If he was honest, he suspected Jared’s willingness to accept him as his shadow also had to do with Jensen pulling him out of the greenroom if Jared signalled him, or keeping him from going in there at all, if Jensen deemed it ‘unsafe’. Jared loved being a musician, there was no doubt about that. He loved the adoring crowd and he loved performing. However, contrary to what Jensen had expected, he didn’t love to party.

Today, their manager wasn’t around, so that meant nobody important was in the greenroom and their attendance was not mandatory. Misha, still clutching the vodka, was the first to pop his head in and scan the crowd. He went back to their private zone and shook his head.

”Fuck it, Jared. Go home, get some rest.” Misha gave Jared a hug, one hand in his hair as he whispered something else in his ear, and Jared visibly deflated, energy drained. Their other bandmates were slowly staggering in and Jared just gave them a cursory wave.

“Sorry guys. Jensen wants me to go home and get some beauty sleep,” Jared announced and Jensen silently led him out to his car. It bugged him that he didn’t hear whatever Misha had been saying, but he could tell that Jared was calm and still happy, so it can’t have been bad. Much as Misha liked to tease, he also looked out for Jared. It was the only reason why Jensen hadn’t punched him yet. Not even that time when he told Jensen it was too bad he’d only joined them this late. A year ago he’d have been welcome to join him and Jared in one of his orgies. Now, Jensen was 80% sure that he’d been fucking with him, but those other 20% irked him to no end.

“To the hotel?” Jensen asked and Jared nodded, getting into the backseat and pulling out his headphones. Okay then. Jensen could deal with this. He drove silently and kept sneaking glances through the rear-view mirror. More often than not, he found Jared staring right back at him, unreadable expression in his slanted eyes.

Since he started this job, Jensen was always given an adjoining suite to Jared’s. It was the one perk he got the other crew didn’t, he guessed. They were usually in another hotel, even. So he hadn’t really made any deep friendships on this tour yet. But it was ok. He liked being alone, sometimes. And he had enough friends at home, most of them musicians as well. That was the other reason he’d accepted this job. So far he’d already managed to get Steve a gig opening for Jared’s band once, when their scheduled band had pulled out last minute.

They arrived at the hotel and rode up in the elevator together, Jared still wearing his headphones. He wasn’t usually that much of a douche, but if he needed his space, Jensen could respect that. They entered Jared’s suite together, Jensen doing a full sweep to make sure it was safe while Jared sat down on the bed.

When Jensen came back out from the bathroom, Jared was up and had already stripped off his shirt. Jensen’s mouth fell open and he stared at Jared’s toned chest for a moment, before he caught himself and quickly fled to his own suite through the adjoining door. The one thing that sucked in this arrangement was that Jensen couldn’t really jerk off in his bed for fear of moaning Jared’s name and Jared actually hearing him.

Jensen didn’t lock his side of the door and he didn’t hear Jared locking his either. Jared had knocked on his door late at night twice so far, claiming he’d heard something and could Jensen please check it out. Jared had been sweaty and shaking each time, white as a ghost, so Jensen went. The first time he thought Jared was just having a nightmare, but when the second time it happened, Jensen realized the minibar had been opened, small bottles lined up on top exactly like the first time, he’d suspected something else.

Of course he’d never ask Jared if he was dry, but at this point, he didn’t have to. And if Jared needed his help to stay sober, all the better. He was here to protect him from threats. If that threat was Jared himself, then he’d gladly lose some sleep. Both nights had ended up with Jared only going back to bed once Jensen had agreed to stay in his room and sleep on the floor.

The next day, Jared always felt bad about it, but Jensen had spent worse nights sleeping cramped up in his car. The floor was not too bad. Still, he accepted Jared ordering them both room service breakfast to make up for it. The more time he got to spend with his charge the better. Jensen was really quite fucked at this point.

That night, Jensen was woken up by incessant banging on his door once again. He slipped out of bed, squeezing the bridge of his nose once and taking a deep breath to clear his head. Then he grabbed his gun off the nightstand and opened the door.

Jared didn’t look as pale as he usually did. A subtle glance at the minibar revealed it still closed. Jensen frowned. “You ok, Jared?”

“No, I heard something.” Jared informed him. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been knocking on your door, would I?”

Jensen sighed and gave a sharp nod. Alright then. He moved past Jared, his arm brushing against his naked chest, and ok. This was new as well. The other two times, he’d always been fully dressed and not just wearing… Jensen looked him up and down and regretted it instantly. Very tight boxer briefs. And Jared was visibly hard. This time, it was Jensen’s turn to be sweaty and shaking, it seemed.

Jensen swallowed hard and started moving through the room methodically. “What did you hear, exactly?”

“I dunno,” Jared shrugged, walking close behind him. “Noises.”

Jared’s heat was seeping through Jensen’s thin nightshirt and he was having trouble focusing. Now, if he’d be convinced there was an actual threat, this wouldn’t be a distraction, but Jensen couldn’t help but wonder why the fuck he was here. There was clearly nobody in the room and Jared didn’t even fake it all that well.

He opened the bathroom anyway and declared it empty. He even pulled back the shower curtain. “Alright, Jared,” Jensen turned around, startled to find Jared even closer than expected. “There’s uh, there’s nobody here. You’re safe.”

“You sure?” Jared asked, reaching out and clutching Jensen’s shirt. “You’re here.”

“Do you, ah,” Jensen faltered. “Do you not feel safe with me around?” Did he slip up? Was this Jared’s way of firing him for inappropriate thoughts?

“I do,” Jared admitted. “That’s the problem. Why are you always so safe, Jensen? So professional?” He was all up in Jensen’s space now, practically rubbing against him. “I can see you looking, you know? I know you want to push me up against that wall and fuck me.” Jared gestured behind him, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“Uhm, I…” Jensen felt trapped. He was still clutching his gun, holding it up and away from Jared. “No, I…,” he tried to defend himself but knew it was futile. He carefully pulled his finger off the safety on the gun and then laid it down on the counter, next to Jared’s hair product.

“Liar,” Jared accused him, letting go of his shirt and grabbing his pants instead. His hand cupped Jensen’s cock, fingers playing with his balls. “Come on, Ackles. Don’t make me beg.” The last three words were whispered and Jensen could detect a hint of insecurity behind them, as if Jared was beginning to doubt himself.

It was that vulnerability that made him act. Jensen shook off Jared’s hand and quickly rushed him against the wall. Jared’s breath left his lungs when he made contact with the hard tiles but Jensen didn’t give him the opportunity to catch a breath, instead delving right in for a hard kiss. He hitched up Jared’s legs and crowded him against the wall. “What if I want you to beg?” Jensen whispered.

Jared grinned, thrusting his pelvis against Jensen’s. “You’re gonna have to work a little harder than that.

Jensen took it as a challenge.

He won.

The next morning, as they were lying in bed together, Jensen couldn’t help but ask about what it was that Misha had whispered in his ear the night before.

Jared smiled. “He told me that sex has never been a trigger for me and I should stop being stupid and denying myself.”

“Oh.” Jensen pulled Jared a little closer and kissed his temple. That had actually been kind of nice of Misha. Still. Jensen doubted that would make him like the other man any more. In fact, he was pretty sure that Misha’s flirting with Jared would enrage him even more now that Jared was his. It was a good thing he was being paid to stay close to Jared and protect him from all threats. Jensen would be doing an extra thorough job of this from now on.

Looking to the Sky to Save Me (Destiel AU, NC-17)

2017-11-08T20:29:38Z

Title: Looking to the Sky to Save Me
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 8.700
Summary: Sam and Castiel are bounty hunters. When a warrant is out for Dean, Sam convinces Castiel to catch him. Loosely based on Killjoys.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on friendlypigeon’s art prompt located HERE. Thanks to jdl71 for beta-reading.

=> AO3 <=

I KNOW MY LAYOUT LOOKS LIKE HELL RIGHT NOW. PLEASE JUST READ IT ON AO3. THANKS! (Damn new photobucket rules.)

Sam was sitting in the control room, looking out at the vast space surrounding the ship. They hadn’t set a new course yet and were just drifting aimlessly for now. It was probably a waste of fuel, but both he and Castiel felt much better up here. Just the two of them and Jess. Not bound to a planet, just a small ship among thousands of stars.

Some people might feel insignificant up here, but it filled Sam with a sense of peace and security that had taken him a long time to acquire. He smiled, thinking back to the first time he met Cas. They’d both been on the run. The only difference had been that Cas had been running from actual enemies while Sam had just been running from life.

He sighed and spun in his chair, his thoughts interrupted when Jess called for him.

“Sam?” The ship’s computer addressed him through the intercom. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to keep an eye out for Dean Winchester?”

Sam froze, the smile he usually wore when the computer talked to him dropping from his face. “Yes? What did you find?” He’d written a sub program looking for any mention of his brother almost two years ago. Nothing ever came up. Which had been fine. No news meant he could pretend Dean was alive and well on some planet somewhere, living his life.

The holo screen in front of him came to life and a level five warrant was on display. “Fuck,” Sam swore under his breath. He hadn’t seen Dean in years, but the image attached left no room for doubt.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, Sam,” Jess apologized.

“No, don’t worry,” Sam bit his lip, scanning the relevant information on the warrant. “I’m glad you brought this to my attention, Jess. Thank you.”

“Of course, Sam,” the computer chirped cheerfully. “You gave me the order.”

Sam cringed. “Yeah, uh, Jess?”

“Don’t tell Castiel?” She suggested and Sam wondered how an artificial program could be so damn perceptive. Then again, he’d specified it in his search. He was the only person to be notified of any results.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Jess. I know you’re Castiel’s ship.” Sam transferred the warrant onto his tablet, already wondering what he was gonna tell Cas.

“I’m your program, Sam. You take care of me,” Jess replied, bringing a smile back to Sam’s face. Yes. Yes, he did. And back in the beginning, before Cas had opened up to him, Jess had been the only company he had on this ship. And while it was peaceful in space, it could also be very lonely.

“Always,” Sam promised, before setting a course to E-02, a planet which used to just be ‘the Moon’, back before space travel started and people realized there were many, many moons.

The ship lurched into motion and Sam sighed. Well, he had to tell Castiel something, because he sure as hell felt that.

Castiel met him in the corridor, shirtless, carrying his two short swords and looking frazzled. “Sam, what the hell? I was just doing my routine.”

Sam would feel bad that Cas might have hurt himself, but he knew the other man better than that. He was too skilled to be bothered by the ship’s movement. “Sorry, Cas. I found us a warrant and it’s kinda time sensitive.”

Cas frowned. “How high is it?”

“Four thousand credits,” Sam replied. It would keep them fed and fuelled for a month. Also, it was high enough that soon everybody would be coming after Dean. And he had to get there first.

Castiel cocked his head, humming thoughtfully. “Let me see that.” Sam held out his tablet and he knew what was coming next. “That’s a level five, Sam.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t do level five.”

“No, you won’t let me do level five. You’ve caught plenty yourself,” Sam held his chin up high. He knew this was coming. Level five was a ‘dead or alive’ warrant. It was the highest it could get, only reserved for the worst of them.

“You’re not ready.” Castiel looked Sam up and down, shaking his head.

“Fuck you, yes I am.” Sam stole one of Castiel’s swords and held it up threateningly.

In a flash, Cas was on him. Before Sam really had time to react, he’d been pinned to the wall, breath cut off by Castiel’s forearm while Cas’s other hand hovered the second sword close to Sam’s eye. Sam dropped the sword he was holding with a clang. “You are ready when I say you are ready,” Castiel hissed.

Castiel let up a little and Sam sucked in a deep breath. “Just let me have this one,” Sam pleaded. “Please.” He averted his eyes when Castiel’s calculating gaze was too probing for comfort.

But whatever Castiel saw, it must have been enough. “Alright.” He let up fully and took a step back. “But you let me do the dirty work.”

Sam nodded. He was about to beg Cas to not kill Dean, but that would have raised more questions he wasn’t prepared to answer yet. And Cas almost never killed the mark. He knew a lot of them had just fallen on hard times and the warrants were not always justified. If they could help, they did. It had cost them a lot of money, but as long as they were getting by, they didn’t need to cash in every warrant. Some fugitives were better off at large. He just hoped that Dean was one of the innocent ones.

***

They arrived on E-02 about two hours later. Enough time for Castiel to suit up, so to speak. It always helped to look inconspicuous, so he wore his protective gear under a suit and hid his swords underneath a baggy trench coat. They were made out of a non-detectable polymer of rare metals and the only thing he’d kept from his old life. He always thought it poetic to use them for good. Or at least that’s what he told himself on nights he couldn’t sleep. Or whenever he had to use them to take a life, the way they were intended.

Castiel sighed and looked down at his hands. Sometimes it amazed him that they hadn’t turned a perpetual red yet. That’s when Sam took a hold of them and squeezed. Castiel looked up at his smiling companion and couldn’t help but offer a wry smile in return. Sam always seemed to sense when he needed him.

“Thanks for doing this, Cas.” After another squeeze, Sam let go of his hands. “Try, uhm, not to kill the target?”

Castiel frowned. “You know I always try to do that; Sam.” He cocked his head. “Is there something else you need to tell me?” Sam avoided his gaze guiltily and Castiel had his answer. “Sam,” he prodded. “You better tell me now.”

“No,” Sam breathed out, still not meeting his gaze. “I just don’t want my first level five to be a DOA.”

‘Bullshit,’ Castiel thought, but Sam never prodded with him, so he’d give him that. “Just make sure you stay clear. This guy is wanted for multiple murders. Don’t need to add your name to the toll.”

Sam gave him his bitchface. “I’m ready for this. You trained me.”

Castiel gave a short nod. He was still going easy on Sam, but he couldn’t very well tell him so. Maybe it was a mistake, but Castiel liked Sam. He never wanted killing to come as easy to Sam as it did for him. If only Castiel wasn’t so weak, he’d have cut Sam loose long ago. But Castiel knew that he wouldn’t make it without his friend anymore. He’d succumb to his own darkness and not come out again.

Clenching his fists, Castiel thrust his nails into the flesh of his palm, forcing himself to be present. They had a level five to catch. Now was not the time to zone out. He opened the hangar door and they left the ship. The latest intel suggested Dean was in the seedy part of the main colony. But that’s where he would have started his search anyway. Criminals rarely spent their time in high class resorts.

He looked up at the sky. One could clearly see Earth through the clear sphere that had been built to create a liveable atmosphere. It looked pretty from up here, but Castiel knew it was an uninhabitable toxic wasteland. Pity that humanity hadn’t learned from their mistakes. But as long as they kept discovering new planets to settle and to mine for resources, nothing would change.

Case in point, this dump. The mining resources were almost exhausted and the colonists were dirt poor, but they still clung on to the only home most of them had ever known. Castiel got out some credits and stopped the first local he came across. “Where does one go for fun around here?”

The guy looked him up and down, no doubt taking in his expensive looking suit and thinking him an easy sucker to rip off. “Depends on what you’re looking for. Gambling or hookers?”

“Gambling,” Sam answered for him and the local frowned.

Castiel placed his hand on Sam’s ass and squeezed possessively. “I already took care of the latter,” he grinned sleazily at the local. It wouldn’t do to raise suspicions with a mouthy companion. And Sam had decided to dress down, claiming he couldn’t fight well in his suit.

Sam threw him a deathly glare, but kept silent.

The local grabbed for the credits Castiel was still holding out. “The Foxtrap. They also sell rooms by the hour.” He winked and Castiel made sure to give him an appreciative and bright smile.

“Thanks. Come on, babe,” Castiel couldn’t resist slapping Sam’s ass. “You know winning more money makes me horny.”

Sam grunted but kept pace with Castiel as they went in the direction the local indicated. “Was that necessary?” Sam asked when they were out of earshot.

“Yes,” Castiel smirked. It would teach Sam to stick to the roles they’d come up with. And if he couldn’t be his obedient servant, he had to be his whore. “How are you so sure the target is gambling anyway?”

“Just a hunch,” Sam shrugged.

Castiel couldn’t argue with that. Sam was usually right about these things.

And he’d be proven right again. They opened the doors to the Foxtrap to find their mark wielding two halves of a broken cue, fending off three pissed off attackers. On the pool table behind him, Castiel spotted a stack of money and he was pretty sure their mark had just hustled some poor sobs who couldn’t accept a loss.

“Dean,” Sam exclaimed loud enough to be heard over the scuffle. The man in question turned to look at them.

“Sammy?” The mark questioned and his moment of distraction was enough for one of the other guys to get the upper hand and punch him square in the jaw.

Before Castiel could process that Sam apparently knew the mark, quite personally from the look of it, he had to jump in and rescue him from the attackers. He threw himself between them and punched the first guy, then ducked an attack from a second, kicked out his leg to swoop away the guy’s legs and made him stumble to the ground.

“What the fuck?” The mark groused, pushing him out of the way. “This is my fight. Stay out of it.”

Apparently their commotion had alarmed the rest of the bar and suddenly they weren’t facing off against three guys, but at least twenty others had come to aid their local buddies. Awesome. Castiel rolled his eyes and pushed Dean out of the way and behind him once more. He fielded the attacks expertly and used his elbow to send one man crashing into another, then drop-kicked his way to a chair, which he quickly broke to use two of the legs as weapons in lieu of his swords. No use killing some drunks for being idiots.

He was just about to knock out two others, when suddenly Castiel was pushed aside once more. “I told you to stay out of my fucking fight, you dick.” The mark was still wielding his broken cue in a similar matter as Castiel, and Castiel would have been impressed, had he not been so pissed off.

Nobody told him to stay out of a fight, least of all the damn guy he was trying to protect. Castiel pushed his way back in and just before the mark – Dean. Castiel supposed he earned the right to be called by his name at least, before he killed him – could push him off once more, shots were fired and they both reacted on pure instinct.

Somehow this time, they fought alongside each other, quickly disposing of the brawlers while using them as shields if the bullets came too close. Bullets. Castiel looked around frantically, finally spotting Sam sneaking up on one of the shooters. His expression must have given him away and the shooter turned around. Thankfully not before Sam could knock him out and grab his weapon.

“Sammy, no! Duck!” Dean yelled, and before another shooter could take aim at Sam, Dean had knocked the gun out of his hand by throwing one of his sticks with perfect aim. He was sharing a look with Castiel and they both shifted their priority. Dean grabbed a knife from one of the brawlers and proceeded to make quick work of the others, just as Castiel ditched his wood to go for his swords instead. The time to save random lives was over. Not when Sam was in peril.

Even though the man in question was actually doing a good job of handling himself. Castiel could see Sam taking out two more shooters. But contrary to how Castiel and Dean were handling their attackers, Sam was aiming for shoulders and legs. Castiel was oddly proud of him.

They’d fought their way to the exit, waiting for Sam to join them again. As soon as Sam was close, they both positioned themselves in front of him, shielding him from possible harm. But for now, the attack had stopped.

“How?” Dean asked Sam, reaching for the other man and squeezing his arm, as if he was checking if Sam was really there.

“I’ll tell you later,” Sam shrugged him off, sharing a look with Castiel instead. “Guess we weren’t fast enough. Those were hunters, same as us.”

Castiel nodded. “Level five with a bounty this high? I’ll be surprised if we make it back unscathed.” He surveyed the bar again, only seeing dead or broken bodies and a few neutrals in hiding. Time to get out. “Meet you at the ship,” Castiel ordered, leaving out the ‘if anything happens’, since they all knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

He took a hold of Dean and shoved him out first. He knew he was somehow important to Sam, but out of the three of them, Castiel was more comfortable if the mark caught a bullet.

“Hey,” Dean complained but didn’t stop. Thankfully no bullets came flying at them.

But the momentary peace didn’t last long. Before they could be on their way, they realized a couple of vehicles were approaching them way too fast to disappear unseen. Castiel looked around, spotting motorcycles. He knew Sam could hardwire them. It was one of the things Sam had taught him pretty early on in their partnership.

“Sam, you go straight to the ship, you hear me?” Castiel ordered, pushing Dean along with him to claim an orange model with a bee painted on the side. It was just fucking odd enough to suit him.

Sam claimed a dark blue model and was already fiddling with the wires. “Cas,” he tried to protest, but before Castiel could cut him off, Dean did.

“You heard him, Sammy.” Dean barked, leaving no room for argument. He even willingly joined Castiel on the back of his motorcycle instead of claiming his own. Castiel somehow knew that he’d have been able to hardwire his own model, but instead he chose not to. Interesting. He wondered who this Dean was to Sam. But he’d find out soon enough. Now was not the time to ask.

Castiel started his motorcycle and with Dean sitting behind him, he sped away just as the approaching vehicles were almost in range. He ducked instinctively and could hear the first bullets fly. Taking the long route back to the ship, Castiel just hoped they’d let Sam pass undisturbed. They wanted Dean, after all.

A quick glance in his rear-view mirror confirmed that he was the one being tailed. Castiel let out a muffled curse and pushed down on the gas. This caused Dean to let out his own curse and suddenly, Dean’s legs were wrapped firmly around Castiel’s middle.

Before Castiel had time to question it, he could see Dean leaning back until he was almost flat out on the motorcycle, pulling out a gun – when did he have time to grab that? Castiel was getting sloppy – and shooting at their pursuers. He was a skilled shot and the first two vehicles soon swerved off their pathway. Castiel wasn’t so sure, but he only heard one tire explode. The rest was shattering glass. He gritted his teeth, concentrating on swerving enough to deflect the still flying bullets, but not enough to knock Dean off his back. He also would have aimed at the drivers rather than the tires. It was more efficient and prevented further pursuit at a later date. He could see why Dean was level five.

It wasn’t long before Dean had disposed of all but two of their pursuers. With another curse, Dean threw his gun at one of the vehicles, apparently out of bullets. But by this time, they were getting close to the ship.

Castiel glanced at the communicator on his wrist. The light was on, which meant they were close enough for contact. Letting out a sigh of relief, Castiel pressed the button. “Jess. We’re coming in hot. Open the hangar door and close it as soon as we’re in.”

He was almost close enough to enter but the hangar was still closed. Castiel sped up anyway, trusting in his ship. Just when he considered a hard swerve after all, the door started to open. “Hold on tight,” he yelled at Dean and hit the brakes hard while pulling up the front of the motorcycle. It let him jump the necessary distance and reach the hangar before the doors were even fully down. “Now, Jess. Close the doors!”

Tires screeching Castiel didn’t manage a smooth landing. He had to swerve hard once more to avoid crashing into the walls and the motorcycle finally gave out and tumbled over, causing them to slide a few feet buried under the machine. But a few scrapes and bruises were better than a bullet to the head.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, stumbling out from under the motorcycle and putting as much distance between himself and Castiel as possible.

Castiel quickly got up and assumed a fighting stance as soon as he realized Dean was scanning for weapons and their momentary truce was apparently over. The ship lurched, bringing them into orbit, and it was enough to distract Dean. Castiel was on him in a flash, knocking him to the ground and sitting astride the other man, his arm at his windpipe, ready to cut off his oxygen.

Before Dean could try anything, however, Sam stormed in and placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Cas, let him go. Please.”

Looking up, Castiel could see the honest plea on Sam’s face and after one last warning glare, he swiftly moved back up, leaving Dean lying on the ground.

Sam offered him a hand, which Dean reluctantly accepted. The movement of getting up made Dean wince and Castiel realized he was also favouring his right shoulder. “You’re hurt,” Castiel deducted.

Dean glared at him. “S’ the only reason I let you lay me on my back, sweetheart.”

Castiel snorted, about to reply, when Sam cut him to it.

“You’re hurt?” Sam reached for Dean, peeling off his shirt. “How bad is it?”

The fact that Dean just let Sam this intimately close to him, while he was hurt no less, spoke volumes. Castiel relaxed. Whoever Dean was, he wouldn’t hurt Sam. “I’ll get the med-kit,” Castiel announced, leaving the hangar. As soon as he was out of earshot, he signalled the ship. “Jess. Get me everything you can on Dean Winchester.”

“Sorry, Castiel. I can’t comply with your request,” Jess replied to him over the intercom.

“That wasn’t a request.” Castiel frowned.

“There are no files on Dean Winchester, other than the warrant I know you’ve seen,” Jess informed him.

“Are you lying to me?” Castiel passed his hand over his face in frustration.

“I’m a computer program, Castiel. I am by design incapable of lying,” Jess replied with an edge to her voice that belied those very words.

“Sam told you not to give me those files, didn’t he?”

“I am your ship, Castiel. And Sam told me no such thing,” Jess deflected.

Yeah. Castiel knew Sam wouldn’t need to actually talk to the computer. “But he altered your code forcing you to hide those files, didn’t he?”

Castiel received no reply at all this time. He’d have to find out the old fashioned way then.

***

As soon as Castiel had left them alone, Sam enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a few seconds, Dean reciprocated and hugged him back.

“Good to see you, Sammy. Circumstances aside,” Dean joked.

Sam huffed, pulling back and resuming his task of pulling Dean’s clothes off his wound carefully. “You’re in some serious shit, Dean.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Dean clamped up. “It’d be cool if you just dropped me off at the next planet.”

“Are you serious?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “The fuck I will. There’s a level five warrant out on you.”

“And you what? Want to collect the money yourself?” Dean asked.

Sam’s face hardened. “Yep. You got me, Dean. That money’s gonna help me a lot more than my worthless brother ever did.”

Dean flinched like he’d been hit. “Sam. You know I did my best. But dad…”

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Dean chuckled. “So… Nice ship you got.”

Nobody was ever better at changing the subject than his brother and Sam couldn’t help but smile. “It’s Castiel’s.”

“Castiel? What kind of a name is that?” Dean joked.

“It is my name,” Castiel replied tartly, coming back in with the med-kit under his arm.

Sam cringed. He knew Cas was a little touchy about his name. It took a while until he accepted Sam’s nickname for him, even.

“Really?” Dean replied, narrowing his eyes. “You know, I met someone with a similar name once. Uriel. He was part of this sect of assassins, all named after angels. Apparently they’d all been snatched up as kids and brainwashed, then trained to be perfect little killers. Know anything about that?”

“Why would I?” Castiel replied, face an unreadable mask. “But it sounds awful. Poor kids.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t know about that. This Uriel guy was pretty lethal. It was almost hard to kill him. Almost,” Dean shrugged nonchalantly.

Castiel swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “Guess I won’t have to ask you if your warrant is justified, huh?”

Sam stepped between them, holding out his arms. “Please stop.” He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he couldn’t stand by and watch the two people he cared for the most rip each other apart. He wondered how Dean even knew about Angels. Sam had never heard of them before Castiel opened up to him. “Dean, Castiel has been with me for years. He stepped in when you weren’t there. So shut the fuck up.”

Dean opened his mouth to reply but then snapped it back shut, crossing his arms in front of his chest instead.

“And Cas, Dean is my brother,” Sam finally confessed.

“Your brother?” Castiel blinked. “You never told me you had a brother.”

Dean growled in response and Sam sighed. “I didn’t really when we met. Dean chose to cut me out.”

“That’s bullshit, Sammy.” Dean looked at him. “I looked for you. After dad died, I looked for you.”

“Yeah, well. Too late, Dean.” Sam had changed his last name to Campbell, his mother’s maiden name, for a reason. He was done with the Winchester side of his family. Or so he thought. But Dean was still his brother, dammit.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Sam?” Castiel questioned. “I could have killed him.”

“No, you couldn’t,” Dean protested, but a raised eyebrow from Castiel shut him up. Instead Dean sighed in defeat. “Because he thought I’d deserved the warrant and he was embarrassed his big brother’s a killer. Isn’t that right, Sam?” Dean suggested.

Sam took a deep breath. Was that it? He wasn’t so sure himself, if he was honest. He just knew he couldn’t tell Cas until he absolutely had to just now. “Is it?” Sam asked in a small voice.

Dean huffed, but then he looked at the ground. “No. I’ve killed people, you know that. We’re soldiers, after all. Winchesters.”

“I’m a Campbell,” Sam threw in, a defiant tone in his voice.

Dean snorted. “You may deny your name, Sammy, but don’t fool yourself. You grew up the same way as me.”

“No, I didn’t.” Sam stood up straighter. “You drank the kool-aid and believed everything dad told you. I always wanted out.”

Dean looked sad for a moment, but then his face hardened again. “And where are you now, Sammy? Hunting fugitives with another killer by your side. Way to escape the lifestyle.”

Sam clenched his fists. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to punch his stupid, smug brother in the face. But that would just prove his fucking point, wouldn’t it? Castiel’s hand on his shoulder soothed him.

“Your brother is a good man, Dean,” Castiel explained calmly. “You obviously don’t know him at all and I’m beginning to see why Sam’s never told me about you.” He turned away from Dean and looked straight at Sam. “We can just turn him over, collect the bounty and you can go back to your life as it is now. Or you hear him out and then we decide what’s next. Together. Choice is yours, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, weighing his options. Though there really was no choice. Turning Dean in had never been an option. Ever since he’d seen the warrant, Sam knew. Even if his brother ended up being guilty of the murders he was wanted for, Sam wouldn’t have the heart to turn him in. “Alright, Dean. Talk.” Sam’s gaze fell on his brother’s still neglected wound again. “But first we’ll get that patched up.”

***

A few hours later, Castiel was in his cabin, trying to unwind. But he just felt too restless. Dean had told them about stumbling over a secret military experiment trying to create super soldiers. When he tried to blow the whistle, they killed everybody, not high up on the chain of command, who also knew about the program and framed Dean for it. Castiel was sceptical at first, but Dean had details they could cross-check and it all seemed to work out. He even had an alibi – he was on a different planet when it happened – but that didn’t seem to help him any.

Still. Castiel couldn’t get rid of this niggling feeling that Dean was still lying about something important. But he’d left him with Sam to get sorted in his own cabin for the foreseeable future while they came up with a plan to clear his name. After that, he had better be on his way.

Dean irritated him. It wasn’t just that he knew about Angels, it was everything about the man. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he fought… It was all just so smooth and flawless. Castiel could tell that he’d be a worthy adversary and part of him was still always itching for a good fight, no matter how hard he tried to repress his urges. And Dean would fight him, of that he had no doubt. And they’d both fucking enjoy it.

Castiel had felt Dean get hard on that motorcycle, pressed close as he was. He’d tried his best to ignore it, but right now, cooped up in his own quarters, he couldn’t help but think about it. Dean seemed carefree in a way Castiel wasn’t, yet he also carried a deep burden. Castiel could see it in the other man’s eyes and in the guarded way he was around Sam. There was so much regret in him. Yet he still seemed to enjoy fighting. Hell, Dean seemed to enjoy killing people. And Castiel still remembered what that was like.

Getting up from the bed he was sitting on, Castiel started pacing the room. He had two options. He could try meditation or work Dean out of his system through training. Or the unmentionable number three: He could go find Dean and… Castiel thrust his fist against the wall. Fuck no. Seeing the other man was the last thing he needed.

He could tell that meditation was not an option at this point either, so Castiel pulled off his shirt and pulled on his training pants, then opened his door and made his way to the training hall. Once he opened the door to his presumed sanctuary, he stopped dead in his tracks though. – Because Dean was already in it, performing a practised routine with Castiel’s bo staff.

Castiel sucked in a deep breath, about to turn back around, but Dean had already spotted him. He finished the movement he was currently on and then did a small bow and fuck, why was it so hot that he even respected his training? Castiel’s eyes narrowed. Why was Dean in his space, messing him up?

“Heya, Cas. Sam told me it was ok to use the room. Wanna spar with me?” Dean offered.

“Leave,” Castiel managed to growl out, remaining frozen in his spot close to the door. The audacity of this man. Did Castiel want to spar? A few hours ago Dean would have probably happily killed him. And Cas would just as happily strangle him right the fuck now.

“What?” Dean’s demeanour changed and he leaning against the stick, head held high. “Fuck you. What is your problem?”

“You,” Castiel answered truthfully, voice still pitched low. “You are my fucking problem.” He snarled through his teeth and moved closer. Slowly. Stalking Dean like prey.

Dean’s expression changed yet again and a small smirk played around his lips. He was still casually leaning against the stick, but Castiel could tell that Dean was flexing his muscles, preparing for the upcoming fight. Then he did something unexpected. Dean threw away the bo staff, a weapon which would have surely given him the advantage, and waved his hand at Castiel in a clear invitation to come at him.

And Castiel charged.

Dean easily parried him, blocking his attack with his arms, his feet in constant movement so Castiel had no chance to kick out one of his legs. God dammit, Dean was good. And this was fun. It didn’t take long before Castiel found himself grinning madly. Dean’s own smile brightened and it put a little dampener on things. This was not supposed to be fun for either of them. Castiel was not supposed to get hard. But he wanted to throw Dean down and dominate him like nothing else. He could almost taste it on his tongue. Dean would submit. Castiel would make him.

With a low snarl, Castiel charged in earnest, forcing Dean closer and closer to the wall. Neither of them broke eye contact, their limbs flying without much conscious thought, yet neither of them were losing their stride. Except for when they got closer to the wall. Dean missed a step and Castiel was able to push Dean up against it, forcing his shoulders against Dean’s to block the other man’s arm movements.

Castiel crowed in victory, yet Dean was once again ruining it by winking at him. That fucker. He’d purposely let Castiel win and… and Castiel couldn’t even be mad anymore. He reached down, hitching Dean’s legs up and around his waist while simultaneously leaning forward and claiming Dean’s lips in a bruising kiss. He tasted salty and Castiel realized they’d both broken out into a sweat.

Dean’s arms, now free, found their way into his hair, gripping some strands and tugging harshly. Castiel retaliated by thrusting Dean against the wall forcefully, momentarily knocking the breath out of the other man. He didn’t give him much time to suck in new air before he was kissing him again. Dean didn’t seem to complain. Instead, he just held on tighter, undulating his hips against Castiel’s.

Then, Dean’s hands were gone. But he was just trying to pull off his shirt. Castiel let up a little until Dean could discard of it, then dove right back in, kissing his way down Dean’s neck, licking up the sweat that pooled around his collarbone and nosing closer. Dean hissed, tugging on his hair again and Castiel belatedly thought of Dean’s wound. He threw a glance at the bandage, realizing blood had seeped through. But Dean didn’t give him a chance to let up.

“Fuck me,” Dean demanded, pushing his heels into Castiel’s ass and bringing their groins even closer together. Castiel moaned harshly and reached between them to undo the buttons of Dean’s pants. “Yes,” Dean exclaimed happily. “Make it hurt.”

And something in his voice made Castiel stop dead in his tracks and look at the other man. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but instead he looked expectant, anxious and a little sad. Dean believed that he deserved to be hurt. And while just a little earlier, Castiel might have agreed with him, he also knew that nobody, nobody, ever deserved to be hurt like that. “No.” Castiel pulled back.

“What?” Dean looked crestfallen for a moment, then angry. “What the fuck? Come on, Cas. I know you want it.” He grabbed Castiel’s cock and squeezed hard.

Castiel pushed his hand away, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, I can hurt you, Dean,” he promised. “And I can fuck you. I can fuck you real good,” he purred. “But you have to make a choice. Only one of the two at a time. Which will it be?”

Dean gaped at him. Castiel could tell that Dean was considering his offer, weighing the options. He really hoped he’d make the right choice, or Castiel couldn’t guarantee to anything. If it were him in Dean’s place, he knew what he’d choose. And it wasn’t the pleasure.

Dean pushed him off and Castiel expected him to choose neither and just leave, some of the adrenaline leaving his body already. But instead, Dean reversed their positions in a flash and pushed Castiel against the wall instead. Dean did quick work of pulling Castiel’s pants down around his ankles and then he sunk down on his knees, nuzzling Castiel’s cock.

Castiel’s eyes rolled back in his head and he shivered in anticipation. But instead, Dean moved back up, tugging Castiel’s pants back up along with him. Castiel blinked in confusion, which only intensified when Dean gave him a short peck to the cheek and then leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Fucking fuck me already, you asshole.” He ended it by slapping Castiel’s ass.

Castiel only had a brief second to recollect himself, then he took Dean’s hand and dragged him out of the training hall. “Oh, I’m gonna hurt you a little,” he promised and led Dean to his cabin.

***

Later, they were both propped up against the headboard, sitting together in Castiel’s bed. It had felt weird to cuddle, but Castiel didn’t want to kick Dean out and Dean didn’t seem to want to leave. Instead, they were comparing scars and sharing war stories. Castiel redacted his stories a lot and skipped over some of his worse scars, but he had a feeling Dean was doing the same. And while this was kind of amusing, it was all just talking around the bigger issues.

With a sigh, Castiel decided to just go for it. “I know you were lying to us earlier,” Castiel announced. When Dean opened his mouth to reply, he held up his hand. “Or at the very least omitted a huge chunk of your story.”

Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved to get out of bed.

Castiel stopped him with a hand against his back. “Dean, please. I can’t help you if I don’t know everything. And I’d…” He hesitated. “You’re Sam’s brother. Let me help.”

Dean sat back down, still not saying anything. After a while, he finally looked at Castiel. “You’re an Angel, aren’t you?”

Castiel panicked instantly, but he hoped he didn’t let it show. “Why thank you, Dean. I’m flattered, but…”

Dean interrupted him. “Cut the crap. I’ve seen your blades. I’ve seen the way you use them. I’m not stupid.”

“Why does it matter?” Castiel replied, looking anywhere but at Dean. He must have been pretty high up in the military ranks if he knew about Angels.

“Please,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know.”

Castiel sighed. He’d only told Sam. And never told the whole story. Dean seemed to already know a fair bit though and he’d obviously already made up his mind about Castiel anyway. And when this was all over, Castiel would never see him again, never have to look him in the eye and see the reaction. “Yes.”

“But you left.” It wasn’t a question. “Your mind is your own?”

Castiel nodded. He wasn’t sure what had ultimately made him break out of his programming, but in a way, he’d always been rebellious. Or so he was told when he’d received the harshest punishments out of all of them. And he’d been sent in for re-alignment several times. Yet he’d still persisted.

“The program,” Dean started. “It was based on yours. The military knew about you, of course. They’d managed to infiltrate the Angel program. But instead of… instead of rescuing you, they took notes and they decided to modify it for themselves.”

Castiel frowned. He hadn’t know that. He’d managed to make sure the Angel program was ceased a few years back. His brothers and sisters were still out there, but Castiel had made sure everybody else associated with it was dead, so no new children could be indoctrinated, abused, turned into something like him. He’d personally killed dozens of his teachers once he’d finally broken free.

And now it was back? It was all back?

“The difference was, they started later. They didn’t abduct kids. They used volunteers for the training,” Dean explained. “What they didn’t tell u… them.” Dean passed a hand over his face. “What they didn’t tell them was that they used drugs and the total brainwash wasn’t exactly advertised either.”

”Dean,” Castiel started, unsure what to say.

“My, uhm… my dad. He was one of the founding fathers. And when he asked, I…” Dean’s voice broke. “I’m just so fucking glad Sammy had left us at that point.” He passed his hand over his face again and Castiel could tell he was fighting back tears. “So fucking glad.”

Castiel didn’t say anything for a while, he just let Dean find his way back on his own. He knew comfort wouldn’t be appreciated. It wasn’t easy to admit you’d been a victim and receiving pity in reply just made it so much worse.

“Fuck this,” Dean muttered suddenly, turning around and vanishing under the covers. Before Castiel could fully comprehend what was happening, Dean had wrapped his lips around his cock and was swallowing him deeply.

“Oh. Oh, fuck,” Castiel fisted his hands in Dean’s hair, not pushing him in but also not pulling him up. “You…” He moaned. “Don’t have to…” Castiel gathered all his strength and tried pulling Dean up. “Dean.”

Dean slid off with a pop and peaked his head out from under the sheets. “I know. Shut up. Geeze, what is it with you?” Dean’s hand was stroking Castiel’s cock instead and Castiel had trouble concentrating.

When Dean slid back down, he let him. Dean was still fisting his cock and just licking teasingly around the head until Castiel buried his hands back in his hair and tugged. “Goddamn,” Castiel cursed, throwing back his head with his eyes closed.

He could feel Dean smirk against his cock and then he was swallowed down once more. Dean took him deep, holding him until his throat started to flutter and then licking along the big vein of his cock when he pulled back up. He repeated it a few more times until Castiel just couldn’t take it anymore. His hands tightened in Dean’s hair and he started thrusting his hips. Dean just relaxed his throat and let him, even encouraging him with a hand stroking Castiel’s hipbone.

“Fucking, fuck, Dean,” Castiel yelled. He pushed one hand against the mattress to get a better leverage and thrust faster. It didn’t take long for him to reach his climax and afterward, Dean was biting his way back up, stopping at one of Castiel’s sensitive nipples, still raw from their first round. Dean bit down hard and Castiel twitched, senses momentarily on overload.

Before he got his bearings back enough to maybe reciprocate he could feel Dean splash his seed against his thigh. Castiel used both hands to detach Dean from his nipple and he cradled Dean’s head against the crook of his neck instead. He could feel Dean panting against him and he shivered again.

When Dean had regained his breath, he started mouthing at Castiel’s neck. Castiel lazily played with Dean’s hair and rubbed circles over his back. But before it could go anywhere, Dean abruptly pushed back and slid out of bed.

“Alright, this was fun,” Dean announced and then turned around, looking for his pants.

“Uhm,” Castiel rubbed his eyes, trying to get his brain fully functioning again. “You don’t have to…”

Dean snorted and turned around, giving Castiel a withering look. “Fuck yes, I do.”

Begrudgingly, Castiel nodded. Yeah. If he was honest, he didn’t want to sleep next to anybody, no matter how amazing the sex had been. And now that his mind started working again, he could see that it would be a spectacularly bad idea. Castiel still had nightmares and waking up with a stranger in his bed could end decidedly bad. Killing was still second nature to him and he doubted that would ever change. And from what Dean had told him earlier, he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean could relate.

Dean was standing at the door, but before he left, he turned around again. “I’m sorry about earlier,” Dean almost whispered. “Uriel. Was he a friend of yours?”

Castiel didn’t expect this. He cocked his head in contemplation. “He was my brother,” he started, thinking of growing up together. And the one time Uriel had reported him to the authorities for his heretical talk, before Castiel had learned to keep his thoughts to himself. He rubbed at the scar on his inner thigh where they’d tried to carve a cross into his skin. “But no,” he concluded. “He wasn’t a friend. He’d have killed either of us without a second thought.”

Dean nodded, averting his face. It seemed that Dean wasn’t as carefree about killing as Castiel had initially assumed. “Goodnight, Castiel.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel replied. The door closed and Dean was gone. Castiel slid down more comfortably in his sheets. He should get cleaned up, but he’d slept way more filthy than this and he didn’t want to erase the night just yet. So instead he just closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.

***

The next day, Castiel woke up feeling frazzled. He’d dreamed about his past all night long and now he was feeling itchy. He quickly took a shower and then went back to the training hall.

Not bothering with weapons, he went straight to his punching bag to vent out some of his anger. It wasn’t killing he’d dreamed about the night before, it had been all the other things they’d made him do. Angels were perfect assassins not only because they were trained in the art of killing, but because they were able to get close to their victims. Intimately close. Until they could kill in the dark of night and slip out unseen. Nobody would think twice of a whore slinking out of someone’s room at night. The guards always let him pass.

Castiel yelled and kicked the bag hard enough to have some sand drizzle out. But before he could collapse against it, he heard the door open. Quickly straightening himself out, he turned around expecting Sam. Instead it was his brother.

Dean was just standing there, grinning at him. “We gotta stop meeting like this.” He looked Castiel up and down with a hungry look on his face. “And for fuck’s sake. Would it kill you to wear a shirt once in a while?”

“Why? It’d just end up getting destroyed.” Castiel pointed at Dean’s shirt, which was actually one of Sam’s and kind of disturbing. It had to go.

Fortunately, Dean got the hint and took off his shirt before advancing on Castiel. “Alright. Let me have it.”

Castiel smiled, this time still going in angry, but not at Dean. They sparred for a while, showing off their respective hand-to-hand combat skills without either of them really gaining the upper hand. They didn’t go at it lightly though and each of them ended up with a few more bruises.

The third time Castiel landed on his back with Dean perched on top of him, Castiel tapped out. He was aching all over but his mind was finally blissfully empty. “I give.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You give?” He leaned closer, his knee pressing down painfully into Castiel’s right side. “Nu-uh. This is over when I decide to let you up.” Dean leaned further down and licked over Castiel’s lips.

Castiel felt a spark go through him and, energy renewed, he jabbed his elbow into Dean’s clavicle and interlaced his legs with Dean, trapping him enough to roll him over so he was on top once more.

Dean grinned up at him, eyes alight, but before they could continue, the door opened again. This time, it really was Sam.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned. “Can you two just…” Sam paused, re-assessing the situation. He looked from Dean to Castiel and back again, both men frozen on the spot, and then Sam’s face twisted in disgust. “Oh fuck no. Goddammit, Dean.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Why do you always have to fuck my best friend?”

Castiel raised his eyebrow in question, not sure if he wanted to hear that story. Then Sam’s words sunk in further and warmth spread through him. It was nice to know Sam valued him just as much as he did Sam. He let go of Dean a little and smirked at Sam. “Who says he did the fucking?”

“Ugh, gross,” Sam exclaimed at the same time as Dean cuffed Castiel upside the head before rolling out from under him and getting up. He didn’t seem ashamed though, just a little chagrined.

“Grow up, Sammy. Sex is a beautiful thing. I’d have thought you’d have learned that by now.” Dean smiled at his brother but then went to grab his discarded shirt and pulled it back on.

Sam rolled his eyes, but then he shrugged. “Better than the two of you killing each other, I guess.”

Castiel sprang to his feet and then winced. Ok, bad move. He shouldn’t be feeling it, but he was. Maybe he was getting old. His old trainers would have surely punished him for showing weakness with an audible wince. But his old trainers were long dead. And soon, the same could be said for Dean’s tormentors. Castiel would make sure of that.

“Sam?” Castiel offered, “You want to train?”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, but not with you. We need you fit for our next mission.”

“Mission?” Castiel questioned.

“Well, yeah. Clearing Dean’s name and dismantling this disgusting program he found out about.” Sam paused. “Or did you two not do a lot of talking?”

“No,” Castiel subtly stretched out his arms. Crap, he was really sore. “He told me. And yes.” He was looking at Dean for his next words. “We’ll make sure to bury the program and everyone involved with it.”

“Except for the soldiers, right?” Sam suggested. “We’ll make sure they’ll get help?”

Castiel bit his lip and Dean averted his gaze as well. Breaking through a thorough brainwashing either took an exceptionally strong mind or a lot of work. Especially if this time, they used drugs to speed up the process. They would be dealing with addicts. And if they used volunteers, chances were high that some of them did not want to be saved. There were still a lot of details Dean would have to disclose, starting with what drugs exactely they used, if he even knew.

“Sure, Sam,” Dean answered for him. “We’ll try.” Castiel could tell Dean wasn’t convinced, but it seemed good enough for Sam.

“I’m just glad you stumbled over this, Dean. Even if it got you framed,” Sam said. “But now we know and we can do something about it.” He smiled optimistically.

“Yeah,” Dean passed a hand through his hair, making the strands stand up a little more. “Real lucky I stumbled into this,” he replied dryly, eyes fixed on Castiel.

Castiel quirked his lips into a half smile. It would be Dean’s decision to tell Sam the whole story. He’d understand if Dean chose to never open up to his brother fully. After all, he’d never told Sam all of his story either. But maybe he would be able to talk to Dean about it. It might help the both of them. In time.

For now though, using each other as an outlet for pent-up physical tension seemed like the perfect fix to get them through the long days it would take to work this – and dredge up painful memories in the process. It wasn’t the worst thing Castiel could imagine. A small smirk found it’s way back to his lips.

“You were right, Sam. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna go back to my cabin and lie down for a while,” Castiel announced and started to leave.

He hadn’t even made it two steps before he heard Dean join him. “Yeah, same,” Dean replied, maybe sounding a little too eager. “In, uhm, my own bed. Obviously.”

Sam’s loud snort made it clear that they weren’t fooling anyone. “I’m not gonna say have fun, but, like, get some actual rest as well. Ok, guys?” Sam sent them off with a rhetorical question neither of them bothered to answer.

Once the door had closed behind them, Castiel made his way to his cabin as announced. He didn’t protest when Dean followed him silently. And he only closed the door after Dean had entered his space as well.

“So, uh. Maybe we should start planning some strategies?” Castiel suggested half-heartedly, his hands already reaching to take off Dean’s offending shirt.

Dean scoffed. “You really need to learn when to shut up.”

“Mmmh,” Castiel hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Then he sent Dean a heated look. “How about you make me?”

Dean grinned and next thing Castiel knew, he was the one getting slammed into the wall and getting kissed until he was breathless.

Shove Me Down (Dean/Cas, AU, NC-17)

2017-05-02T21:36:52Z

Title: Shove Me Down
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 4.000
Summary: When Castiel gets send to Dean’s prison as an inmate, he has to use unconventional methods to keep him safe.
Author’s Note: Written for destielrb and based on emmatheslayer’s art prompt located here.
Title borrowed from Louden Swain's song "Roll Me Over". Thanks to Sofia for spell-checking.

=> AO3 <=

Dean checked his phone again. Still no message from Castiel. By now, he was really worried. They weren’t in a relationship or anything, but they hooked up frequently enough. And Castiel never missed a date. At least not without sending Dean a message. And the fucker knew Dean worried.

Maybe that was it though. Castiel sending some kind of message. Dean was getting too attached and it was time to pull back. Though lately Dean had gotten the feeling that Cas might be getting just as comfortable in their thing as he was. He wasn’t even going out looking anymore. The idea of Cas was all he needed.

Fuck. Dean was so screwed. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before locking his phone away in his locker and adjusting his uniform. They were getting a shipment of new inmates today and he had to look impeccable.

After making sure his walkie-talkie was properly attached, he tucked in his baton and closed his locker. Time to face the crowd. He joined his fellow correctional officers as they formed a row for the new inmates to walk through and hopefully be intimidated enough to not try any funny business later on.

The doors opened and the misfits were let in. Dean worked at a low level facility. No murderers but criminals on their way to falling deeper through the cracks and becoming worse. They were supposed to scare them straight in here. Dean was proud that they held a pretty good success record, too.

However his smug sense of pride quickly vanished when he spotted a familiar mop of black hair among the new inmates. And sure enough, Castiel strolled in, head held high, trying not to look intimidated. But Dean could see right through him. He was clutching his bedding tightly and his jaw was clenched shut. Their eyes met and Cas relaxed instantly. Dean, however, felt the rug swept out from under his feet.

“Eyes up front,” he belted out and pulled out his baton to thrust against the bars, causing a loud clang to startle the prisoners and thankfully Cas dropped his gaze and kept walking. How the fuck was he going to explain this one to his fellow guards? Nobody could know that he knew Castiel or there’d be hell to pay for both of them. They might relocate Cas, too. And then Dean couldn’t watch over him anymore.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’d told the little bastard time and time again not to let himself get caught or just drop the shady shit altogether. But Cas was a small time criminal. Recreational drug user. Dean’s alarm bells should have rung a long time ago and ended this, but… he just couldn’t. And Cas had promised him. Promised. That stupid fucker.

As soon as the show was over, Dean ignored the curious glances his co-workers threw him and went to check Cas’ file. He was in here for six months, three, with good behaviour. He’d been caught with an amount of pot considered too large to use just for himself but thankfully not large enough to brand him a big time dealer. And Dean would bet he’d been carrying it for their planned weekend together, too. Goddammit.

Dean knew what he had to do. It made him sick to his stomach, but it was the only way. He went to find Alastair.

**

Alastair was sitting with his usual buddies around the screens, monitoring the newbies. Dean just hoped he wasn’t too late. “I call dibs on that one,” he announced, pointing at Castiel on the camera.

Alastair raised an eyebrow and Fred, who insisted on being called Azazel, screwed in the head as he was, crossed his arms with a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Winchester.”

“Don’t give me that shit. I know what you do and I have chosen not to report you,” Dean continued, hoping his thinly veiled threat would help. “And now I want in. So, dibs. On that guy.”

“My, my, my, Dean Winchester.” Alastair was getting up and invading Dean’s space. Dean fought hard not to flinch away. “Never thought I’d see the day.” Alastair licked his lips. “Decided to get yourself a pet, huh? Why that guy?”

“Because he dared to look me in the eye,” Dean replied, voice steady.

Alastair chuckled. “Why don’t I believe you?” He glanced back at the monitor. “He’s cute though. Real cute. Might have to consider him for myself.”

Dean clenched his fists but did his best to appear unperturbed. He could not let on that he knew Cas and how much this meant to him. Dean shrugged. “My loss then. But he’s only in here for three months. I know how much you like to play the long game.”

Alastair cocked his head. “Three months, eh?” He threw one last look at the screen. “Pity.” Alastair held Dean’s gaze again and neither man talked for the longest time until finally, Alastair grinned. “Ok, Winchester. This one’s all yours. But you owe me.”

Dean nodded curtly and turned on his heels. He was already sick thinking about what kind of favour the other man would ask of him, but as long as Castiel was safe, it would be worth it.

Dean had known for a while that some of his fellow officers were picking out special inmates, but as long as nothing went out of hand and things mostly stayed on a consensual level, he didn’t feel it was his place to say something. This had been going on long before he entered the service and he’d never witnessed any actual breach of conduct himself.

None of that helped to make him feel any less dirty though. He sighed and returned to his post for the morning.

**

During lunch, Dean made sure to keep an eye out for Castiel. And sure enough, Cas got into trouble right away. Not knowing the unwritten rules, since his cellmate must be a dick, he’d sat down at the wrong table and started mouthing off when he was given flack about it. He was just too damn stubborn for his own good. Castiel and Raphael and his crew were now both standing, facing off. There was a visible shift in the atmosphere and Dean could tell everybody was preparing for a fight.

Dean quickly made his way over to the table. “Novak,” he barked, hand on his baton as if ready to strike. “First day and you’re already causing trouble. I guess it’s time to teach you some manners.”

“The fuck?” Castiel replied. “I didn’t do anything. Chuckles over here is the one who…” He pointed towards Raphael, whose gaze narrowed and Dean ground his teeth.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Dean ground out icily. He gave a short, almost imperceptible nod to the right to indicate to Cas that he should just come join him. Thankfully Castiel swallowed his pride and walked over with his head down.

“I’m sorry, officer…” Castiel trailed off, pretending not to know his name.

“Your worst nightmare, if you keep this up.” Dean had a reputation to uphold, after all. “Hands,” he ordered.

Castiel held out his hands with a confused look on his face and his frown only deepened when Dean handcuffed his wrists together. As soon as the shackles closed, Dean grabbed a hold of Castiel’s bound hands and dragged him out of the common area into a closed off area where he knew the security cameras only had a limited view.

They received a few catcalls and taunts for Castiel to be in real trouble now, but Dean ignored them all, staying silent until he was sure they were alone. Once there, he quickly unlocked Castiel’s cuffs and embraced him in a big hug. But as soon as he was physically reassured Castiel was safe, he pushed him away again.

“You stupid motherfucker.” Dean cuffed him upside the head. “You just had to let yourself get caught, didn’t you?”

Castiel shrugged. “Bound to happen sooner or later.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Dean sighed. “You’re just lucky you landed in here.”

“Am I?” Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Officer Nightmare.”

Dean grunted. “Couldn’t give me a warning, could you?”

“I only got one phone call,” Castiel replied, his face showing honest remorse.

Dean sighed. “And that was to…?”

“Gabriel.” Castiel shrugged.

“Your brother. Of course.” Gabriel was a smarmy lowlife with a longer criminal history than Castiel. He probably made things even worse for Cas. Dean shook his head and manhandled Castiel deeper into the darkness. “I was worried when I didn’t hear from you, you stupid asshole,” he admitted.

“Awww, that’s sweet,” Castiel purred, reaching a hand out to cup Dean’s cheek.

But Dean caught the hand and twisted Castiel’s arm behind his back until it must be painful. “You don’t get it, do you? This could get really ugly for the both of us.”

Castiel huffed, but lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get caught. And I was only carrying so much, because it was supposed to be a last farewell. I was gonna be good for you, honest.”

Dean snorted, but his heart ached. He believed that Castiel believed it at that moment. But he’d never be a straight and narrow guy. Truth be told, it was part of why Dean was so damn attracted to him. Careful to have his back turned to the camera, he bend down to capture Castiel’s lips in a deep kiss.

Castiel’s arms came up to wrap around his neck, and that’s when Dean knew he had to shut it down again. He pushed Castiel away and quickly wiped his lips, hoping he’d stopped early enough not to have them swollen.

“Ok, here’s how this is going,” Dean explained. “When you get back in, you’ll look appropriately scared and chastened. You’ll keep your head down and slink off to find a seat at the table at the far end of the hall. Find a guy called Andy. Stick with him, he’ll show you the ropes.”

Castiel nodded. “Anything else?”

“I thought my only worry would be for you to get your sentence prolonged, but I forgot who I was dealing with.” Dean raised his eyebrow and Castiel grinned at him. “Try not to get killed. Seriously. Stay out of trouble. This is a pretty tame place, but it’s still a prison. And I can’t watch over you 24-7.”

Castiel leaned up for another quick kiss. “And we’ll…?”

“It would be best if we kept all contact to a minimum and out in public,” Dean replied.

“Yeah,” Castiel drawled. “But what we’ll actually do is…?”

Dean laughed. “You’re such a little shit. I’ll come find you when I can.” He ruffled Castiel’s hair and rucked up his clothes some, making it appear as if he got roughed up. “Meanwhile, don’t drop the soap,” Dean whispered before reapplying the cuffs and pushing Castiel back out into the hallway.

“Wait,” Castiel looked over his shoulder, steps faltering. “That is an actual thing?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Find Andy.” He shoved him a bit more roughly when they came back into sight of the other inmates. To Dean’s relief, Castiel played his part of scared-straight well and after Dean unlocked the cuffs once more, he scurried off to the table Dean had indicated he should join.

Dean himself was joined by Benny, the only friend he’d made in this place. “I didn’t think you were one for the hands-on approach,” his fellow officer questioned.

Dean shrugged. “Had to nip this in the bud before it got out of hand.”

Benny nodded and threw a glance at Castiel. “That one gonna be trouble?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I think I got it handled.” In his head, he was agreeing wholeheartedly though. That one was gonna be so much trouble.

**

For the next three days Castiel kept his head down and Dean didn’t approach him. He was ignoring taunts from Alastair about making sure his boy was satisfied to make sure he wouldn’t stray, until Dean finally realized that those comments didn’t come from nowhere. Castiel was too pretty for his own good and his size and athletic shape actually were a disadvantage for him in here. Some people took that as a challenge. Dean needed to stake a public claim and make sure his message was heard.

During recreational time, Castiel was hanging out with Andy and the other mostly harmless stoners. But instead of just leaning against the wall and smoking, like he should be doing, Castiel was standing in front of their group, doing yoga poses. Dean could see several pairs of eyes glued to his ass and that just would not do.

“Novak,” Dean yelled, striding towards him with purpose. “With me.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up for a second, but he also looked confused. “But I didn’t do anything, officer.”

“You know what you did,” Dean replied levelly. “Flaunting your body like it belongs to you. I guess it’s time for another lesson.” Dean made sure to be heard and cause a scene as much as possible without it being too obvious. He snapped his fingers and pointed towards the building. Turning around and leading the way, he hoped like hell that Castiel was smart enough to follow him. Dean couldn’t turn around to make sure or he’d lose his authority.

Once inside, Dean was relieved to find Castiel right behind him. He wordlessly led him towards solitary confinement and into an empty cell. There wouldn’t be any cameras in here. Once inside, Dean locked the door and then finally allowed himself to relax. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Hello to you, too,” Castiel replied.

Dean growled. “I told you to keep your head down.”

“But I did?” Castiel seemed honestly confused.

“Yoga, Cas? In a prison?” Dean passed his hand through his hair in frustration. “Why don’t you just go hold up a sign that says ‘rape me’.”

“But…” Castiel protested and Dean had enough.

“Stupid, bendy fucker,” he accused and pushed Castiel against the wall, attacking his lips in a bruising kiss. He raked his fingers along Castiel’s scalp and made his hair stand up. “This is about marking you as mine. Do you understand why this needs to happen?”

“Not really,” Castiel panted, hands on Dean’s hips. “But I’m not complaining.”

“I never thought I’d say this to you of all people, but you’re too innocent to be in here,” Dean sighed. He resisted the urge to be gentle with Castiel and take advantage of the bendiness and stamina he knew first hand came with Castiel’s yoga skills. Dean could get fucked into the mattress for hours when Cas was out of here. This would have to be quick and dirty.

“I’ll have you know that I take offence to that,” Castiel huffed, leaning forward and nipping at Dean’s lips.

“As long as it’s just my words you take offence to,” Dean replied. His lips closed over Castiel’s for one quick kiss. He was opening Cas’ orange jumpsuit while their tongues tangled together and as soon as it fell below Castiel’s waist, Dean pulled back, getting the cuffs out again. He closed one around Castiel’s right wrist, then twisted his arms behind his back before cuffing them together.

“My, officer,” Castiel smirked. “Whatever do you plan on doing with me?”

“Leaving marks,” Dean explained honestly, turning Cas around and pushing him into the wall. He pulled his jumpsuit down all the way and then kicked Castiel’s legs apart, forcing him to bend over.

“Oh, fuck,” Castiel groaned, very much into it. It wasn’t like they hadn’t played rough before, but this was different to doing it at Dean’s place. Then again, maybe it didn’t have to be. This was Dean’s place by extension and Dean just had to hope that Castiel would see it similarly.

Dean thrust two of his fingers between Castiel’s lips and pushed his underwear down with his free hand. “Suck,” he commanded, then he added, “I’ll try to smuggle in some lube next time.”

It was the first time Castiel tensed up a little, but Dean didn’t give him much time to think. As soon as his fingers popped free, he used one to slowly open Castiel up. He prepped him as efficiently as he could in the limited timeframe they’d been given. When he was two fingers in and able to scissor them freely, he pulled out and forced Castiel to turn around, pushing him to his knees.

“Open up,” Dean hissed, thrusting his cock down Castiel’s throat as soon as his partner accepted him. He couldn’t afford to go gentle anymore and held Cas’ head immobile as he was fucking in deep. Castiel’s eyes started to water and soon tears were streaming down his face, but Dean knew he was relaxing his throat the best he could. And he made no indication to get away. “Fuck,” Dean cursed. He was starting to really enjoy this. “You look way too good like this. On your knees in this filthy prison cell, with my cock down your throat.”

Castiel moaned his encouragement and curled his tongue against Dean’s cock, swallowing around it the next time Dean thrust deep. Dean’s eyes hooded and he bit his lips. This should not be as hot, but goddamn.

“Cas,” Dean moaned brokenly and pulled out before he came down Castiel’s throat. He squeezed the base of his cock to gather some self-control and then wiped the tears from Castiel’s cheek. “You don’t get off so easy this time,” Dean announced and hauled Castiel back up to his feet.

Dean sucked three fingers between his lips before giving Cas one last cursory stretch, then slowly sank his cock into Castiel’s tight ass. He knew that without lube, this must be painful, but he needed it to be. Still, at the same time, he went slow and tried to give Cas time to adjust.

However, Cas was having none of it. “Come on, Winchester. Don’t pussy out on me now. Just fuck me.”

Dean let out a surprised laugh, most of the tension bleeding out of his body. “You asked for it.” Dean took a hold of the handcuffs and used them to guide Cas’ thrusts while his hips were snapping in a brutal rhythm.

“Shit,” Castiel groaned. His head dropped between his shoulders and he went lax, allowing Dean to manhandle him. The rhythmic slap of skin on skin echoed off the walls in the empty cell and they were both panting harshly, only interrupted by the occasional curse words.

When Dean felt he was close once more, he reached around and started jerking Castiel off. But then he remembered their circumstances and instead, he pulled out, stepping around Castiel and pushing him to his knees once again.

Castiel let out a pitiful while, looking up at Dean in betrayal, but Dean didn’t let it deter him. He striped his own cock furiously until he came all over Castiel’s face and hair. “You bastard,” Cas croaked when Dean was done, but his expression changed to joy when Dean knelt down next to him, leaning against his shoulder and reaching down with his free hand to finish Castiel off as well.

Afterwards, they both leaned against each other, panting and coming back down from their respective highs. Dean was the first to recover and he reached out, feeding Castiel some of his come. The rest he spread around his hair and rubbed into his skin, making sure it was still visible enough to whoever would look for signs.

Castiel let out a pleased hum when Dean stroked his fingers through his messy strands, making them stand up even more. “If I knew this would be the result, I’d have gotten arrested sooner.” His voice sounded wrecked.

Dean slapped his cheek. “Don’t even joke about that, man.” He sighed and stood back up, tugging Castiel along. He tucked his own cock back into his pants and then pulled up Castiel’s. They both needed a shower. But right now, this was a luxury denied to the both of them. “You ok?” Dean asked, unlocking the cuffs and checking Castiel over for damage too great to heal on its own.

“Peachy.” Castiel rubbed his sore wrists and then winced when he shifted his hips. “Jesus. I’m gonna feel that all week.”

“That’s the plan. I need you to limp out of here.” Dean shrugged, but he cupped Castiel’s cheek and gave him an earnest look. When he was sure Castiel was ok, he quipped, “And you’re a shit actor.”

Castiel laughed. Then he touched his hand to Dean’s over his overheated cheek. The slap would be showing soon. “I’m ok, Dean. Really.” He took a deep breath and looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. “That really should have been my line.”

“Don’t lose your prison cred, Winchester. I have a feeling both of our well-being depends on it for the foreseeable future.” Castiel raised an eyebrow.

Dean hummed in agreement. “Speaking off…” He unclipped his baton from around his waist and held it up to Cas’ lips. “I need you to suck this.”

Cas’ eyes widened, but he did as instructed. “I’m not even gonna ask,” he commented when Dean nodded his head to indicate the job was done.

“Like I said, too innocent for this place.” Dean kissed his cheek and hugged him close one last time, before it was time to go.

He let Castiel back out with a hand wrapped firmly around the scruff of his neck. Castiel looked completely dishevelled, his tell-tale limp visible to everybody. Dean, however, had made sure to look impeccable as usual.

Once they were close enough to the weight lifting benches, where Dean knew most of the heavy-hitters were around, Dean pushed Cas hard enough to have the other man land on his knees. “That’s a perfect look for you, Novak.” Dean buried his hand in his messy hair and gave a sharp tuck. “Just remember, I do not share. If I hear word of you touching anyone else, there’ll be hell to pay.” The ‘anyone else touching you’ was implied. Yet, to fully carry his point across, Dean unclipped his glistening baton and mimicked a thrust. “I’d rather not use this on whoever touches my property instead of you.”

Castiel cringed away from him, looking so scared that Dean got worried for a second. But then he realized that Castiel’s actor skills were better than he’d thought after all. Cas scrambled up and joined Andy and his crew and Dean was pleased to see that they quickly sheltered him and made sure he was ok.

All Dean could do now was hope that his authority held enough weight. But if he knew anything about this prison by now, Castiel should be save. Alastair’s special projects never got abused by other inmates. In fact, they all kept a wide berth, same with any unlucky soul Fred had claimed.

Dean just had to make sure to schedule in regular sessions with Cas. Which was no real hardship. Alastair already knew, or thought he knew, what Dean was up to. Maybe he could open up to Benny and tell him the truth, because to be honest, Benny’s opinion mattered to Dean and he didn’t want to be filed in the same category as Alastair. And then he’d have someone else to look out for Castiel.

And when Cas’ three months were over, it might be time for the both of them to look for different occupations elsewhere. If Castiel even still wanted to see him once he had a choice again. Dean sighed. He’d worry about this when the time came. Either way, keeping Castiel save now would be worth potentially losing him over for in the long run. Because what else was Dean supposed to do?

And So It Begins (Dean/Jess, AU, R)

2017-05-01T19:31:56Z

Title: And So It Begins
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Jess
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 2.100
Warnings: none
Summary: Dean Winchester is a witch working with the superhero team The Hunters. After past experiences, he tries to stay away from his own kind. That is, until he stumbles head-first into a new adventure with the mysterious Vixen.
Author’s Note: Written for jalu2 as part of the spnspringfling exchange and combining the prompts "witches" and "noir superheroes".

=> AO3 <=

Dean opened up a portal and jumped into the building, looking for the intruder. The rest of his crew, The Hunters, would follow as soon as he gave them the all-clear. Reconnaissance was an important part of his role in the team. He preferred actual combat and kicking some ass, hut he knew he’d be fastest in and out and most able to defend himself even on his own. And it beat his team getting ambushed.

He was the Black Wizard, the only person in the country allowed to perform magic. Perks of him being part of The Hunters. They couldn’t touch him as Black Wizard. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, would get his ass thrown into the dungeons if he got caught. Wizardry was outlawed, because the destruction it had caused had been too great and people were quick to accuse all witches and not realize that there was good among the evil just the same. Dean tried his best to change people’s minds, but victims were still afraid of him, even if he rescued them from the real villains.

And in a way, he could understand them. Too many of his people had fallen prey to the dark side and after all he’d seen, all he’d fought, he preferred to stay alone and wary of his kind all the same.

He sighed and silently jumped off the platform he was perched on, making his way deeper into the factory. He spotted a faint blue glow and followed it to its origin. “Vixen,” he whispered in surprise, spotting the meta-human in question waving her hand around a locked cabinet and emanating the blue light he’d been tracking. “Stop!” he ordered audibly.

Vixen jumped and turned towards his voice. She didn’t stop performing her ritual though. “Squirrel?” she questioned and Dean narrowed his eyes at the nickname. “You don’t understand. It’s not what you think.”

“What is it, then?” Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest. Vixen was a freelancer who’d helped them out a few times. It was why he gave her the benefit of the doubt instead of attacking straight away.

With a heavy sigh, Vixen turned back towards her task, whipping her blond curls around and obscuring her face even more than her mask already did. “No time to explain. Just get out of here.”

“I don’t think so,” Dean approached, hands ready to throw an attack spell. But before he could act, another portal opened up and all hell broke loose.

“Fuck!” Vixen yelled, but she had opened the cabinet and reached in, pulling out a staff. Dean did a double take. That wasn’t just any staff, that was the Staff of Amara. And Vixen whipped it around, using it as a protective shield to fence off the magic blasts now aimed at her.

“The fuck?” Dean quickly stood by her side, creating an additional shield to ward off the magic thrown at them by several witches who’d emerged from the portal.

“Vixen. Give me the staff,” a loud voice boomed and Dean shivered. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Lucifer?” Dean glanced at Vixen, who, with a determined look on her face, ripped off an amulet from around her neck. As soon as it was gone, the staff magic doubled and Dean could hear her chanting a spell. “You’re a witch?”

In reply, she just grabbed his hand and in a quick flash, they were out of the factory and in a field a few yards away. “Tell your team to get the fuck out,” Vixen advised, before sending a blast his way. Dean fell backwards in surprise and just when he was ready to counter, Vixen jumped again.

Dean stayed on the ground, stunned, before a chatter of voices coming through his intercom made him snap out of it. He touched his ear, activating it quickly. “Don’t engage. Don’t engage. I’m fine, but I’m, uh…” he looked around. “Meet at the rendezvous. And I repeat. Do not engage.”

After he’d briefed his crew on what he knew, which was not much, Dean went back to his place to do some research. He’d heard of talismans hiding your powers, but he’d never seen one in action. He’d neglected to debrief the team on that little revelation. But before he knew more, he couldn’t throw Vixen under the bus. She’s saved him, after all.

Lucifer was back. For all Dean knew, Lucifer was locked away in a cage. Him and Sammy had helped, after all. He should call his brother, but they weren’t on speaking terms for a while now. Sam refused to stay in the shadows or at least get a covert ID like Dean had done and fight the bad guys this way. Sam wanted the ban lifted. He wanted witches to roam the earth freely once more. Train them, teach them to be good. But Dean had seen too much. Throwing them all in a dungeon was not the way, but to openly display ones powers and worse, train to be stronger, was not the way either. Too many bad eggs.

Even Sam himself had lost his way there for a while. Dean glanced at his brother’s name on the display of his phone, but then he shook his head, switched it off and went for another shot of whiskey instead.

**

Three days later it was the full moon and Dean was getting antsy. It was gonna be a blood moon which coincided with the annual Spring Awakening festival. A time to recharge, meet up and share the magic. Witch hunters would be on patrol tonight. But it wasn’t like Dean avoided danger any other time. Besides, Jodie had given him a ‘Get Out Of The Dungeon Free’ card as she called it, and which was actually her business card with her cell phone number scribbled on the back. His fellow Hunter was a detective in real life and had known about the festival and how much it meant to his kind.

He turned over his cup of coffee and threw in some crushed beetles before swirling it all up with his fingernail while performing the chant. It would give him an invitation to the local coven’s chosen place of worship.

As soon as he knew where they met, he grabbed his keys and was on his way. His velvet cloak was safely stashed away in a secret compartment of his closet. It was part of his Black Wizard costume. Where he was going, there would be no hiding. Witches only wore cloaks in old paintings anymore. It would be way too suspicious. And kinda dumb, in real life. Not to mention counterproductive to soaking up the moonlight.

Once he reached the cabin his spell had revealed, he knocked on the door. A scowling, older man opened the door part way. “Yeah?”

“I’m here for the festival,” Dean announced. “I’m Dean.”

“Dean?” The door closed on him a little further. “I don’t know any Dean. What line are you from?”

Dean sighed. “Dean Winchester, my mother was…”

“Your brother is the High Mage of Kansas,” came the reply.

Dean sighed. “Yep. That’s my family.”

“Then why are you not out there celebrating with them?” The man’s eyes narrowed and Dean was still not granted entry.

“Rufus, let him in,” came a female voice from inside the cabin. The door was opened fully and a gorgeous blonde was holding out her hand. “Please ignore him, Dean. All are welcome here.”

Dean looked her up and down before shaking her hand with a bright grin. From the looks of it, he’d chosen wisely. “Thanks...” he trailed off expectantly.

“Jess,” she introduced herself. “You came right on time.” Jess let him in and introduced him to the rest of her coven. Thankfully she only referred to him as Dean, omitting his last name. He didn’t need the attention I would bring.

There were a few more stragglers here. Mostly other witches without a coven, and soon enough, Dean felt himself relax. It was good to be among his own kind again, even if only for one night. He still hung back a little, not wanting to intrude on what seemed to be a close-knit coven.

“Oh come on, Dean,” Jess bumped his hip and handed him another beer. “Don’t be so squirrelly. We’ve worked on our wards for the past few days. No hunter is gonna find us.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Well, no other hunter, now that you’re here.” She winked.

Dean froze, confused for a second if they assumed he was a witch hunter and he was in real danger or if she’d made his secret, which would be equally disastrous. But then something clicked in his mind and dammit. That’s what happened when he spent too much time on his own. His senses dulled and he couldn’t recognize his own kind by their auras anymore. “Vixen?”

“Not here.” Jess shook her head. “But we should talk. Come find me after the ceremony.” She left him to process and joined Rufus’ side to open the back door and lead them all out into the open fields and proceed with the festivities.

Hours later, Dean was lying in the field, eyes closed, enjoying the moonlight on his bare chest. He didn’t even know where he’d discarded his jacket and shirts, but at least he was still wearing his jeans. Even if his shoes seemed to be gone as well. His rational mind was slowly coming back to him, but with his toes buried in the damp earth, he still felt too connected to care.

There was a thud and then a warm body scooting close to him, reaching for his hand and interlacing their fingers. A nice tingle raced through his body and Dean let out a pleased hum.

“You don’t do this very often, do you?” A soft laugh came from his right.

“No,” Dean replied honestly.

“Mmm,” Jess hummed in consideration, then suddenly she was straddling him, hands caressing his chest before they buried themselves in his hair and she leaned down for a deep kiss.

Dean was helpless to resist. Not like he wanted to, to be honest. It all just felt too damn good. He grabbed a hold of her hips, noticing in disappointment that she was still wearing jeans and a tank top, but his aura was reaching out, mingling with hers and the connection was good, so good. He groaned, hips thrusting up and they moved in tandem, hands roaming, deepening the kiss and slowly merging into one entity.

Until Jess pulled away with another laugh. “Phew.” She sat up, hands on Dean’s chest and flicking his nipples sharply. The pain made him flinch and finally open his eyes. He stared into her green ones, panting and not ready to let go yet. “I know this used to be part of the festival, but public orgies are so 19th century, don’t you think?”

Dean grunted and grabbed a hold of her wrists, keeping her from playing with his nipples any further. “You’re not making a very compelling argument to stop here, babe.”

Jess snorted. “Don’t call me that, Squirrel.” She freed her hands and got off of him and up, holding out a hand for him to join her. “By denying yourself access to your own kind, you’ve grown weak. I could kick your ass into yesterday.”

Dean scowled. “That’s not true. You know who I am. You know our success rate.” Though a part of him had to admit that yes, a wizard without a coven could never be as strong. And as much as he fed off his team, they were no real substitute.

Jess just raised her eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Listen, Dean. You’re a Winchester. That’s one of the strongest magic lines out there. And I could really use your help in the upcoming fight, but you need to sharpen up. It’s a good thing you joined us tonight. A first step in the right direction.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Apparently it was time to shake up the lingering fog of the festival and get back to the real world. “Tell me more.” He wasn’t agreeing to anything yet, but willing to listen.

And then she started with the worst sentence imaginable.

“When’s the last time you’ve spoken to your brother?”

And just like that he was thrust back into a world he was trying his damnedest to avoid. But what could he do? He was a hero. Fighting evil was in his blood. And if he had to join Vixen in this fight and fully embrace his legacy, then so be it.

The Only Lie I Ever Told You (Dean/Cas, PG)

2017-02-27T19:54:10Z

Title: The Only Lie I Ever Told You
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 5.900
Summary: Nobody knows that Castiel is the anonymous painter known as KAZ. When Dean takes him to a gallery opening for their first date, things get complicated.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on little_huntress’s art prompt located on tumblr.
Thanks to my friend Fudge for beta-reading.

=> AO3 <=

Castiel wiped the counter with a sigh. The latest rush had been bad. Now he was looking forward to a few minutes of quiet time to contemplate why he was even still working at The Happy Bean. But of course it never worked that way. He could feel the breeze from the freshly opened door and with his luck, nobody was leaving. Stifling another sigh, he plastered on his fake smile and looked up to greet the next customer.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean smiled at him radiantly.

Castiel’s fake smile slipped and a real one took its place. “Dean. Hello.” Somehow, Dean always managed to arrive when there was a lull, so they got a few minutes to chat. Cas sometimes wondered if Dean was lurking around waiting for just the perfect time. But that would be too much effort just for him. Surely Dean had better things to do. Better things and better people. Cas’ smile slipped a little again. “The usual?”

Dean nodded and Castiel went to prepare his venti black coffee with one pump of vanilla syrup and one pump of cinnamon. Back when Dean first started coming around, he would insist on a normal black coffee but then add copious amounts of sugar and sneak in cinnamon when he felt like nobody was looking. As if his manliness depended on the state of his cup. But when Dean had become a regular, Cas made it his mission to get him the perfect coffee.

He had to sneakily make ‘mistakes’ and accidentally add various syrups, going by the face Dean made when he took his first sip to figure out if he was on the right track. Until one day Dean had waxed poetics about pie and complained why The Happy Bean only sold muffins and Castiel had gotten a better idea about his preferred flavours.

Castiel doodled a classic car’s rims and headlights onto the cup because he knew Dean would get a kick out of it and wasting a few precious seconds in which he couldn’t stare at Dean was worth it when he handed the cup over.

Dean’s eyes lit up and he whistled appreciatively. “Awesome. Thanks, Cas.”

Just in that moment, his new co-worker, Katie, chose to finally show her face again. She glanced at the cup and snorted. “He wishes he were Kaz.”

“What?” Dean frowned at her, confused, and Castiel ground his teeth.

“Katie. Nice of you to join me. Where were you when I served fifteen cheerleaders on their way to practise just now?” Castiel narrowed his eyes. Girls could be the worst with their special orders. Non-fat milk but with heaps of syrup, soy milk but whipped cream and sprinkles. Not that he blamed them for cheating on their respective diets, but special orders took a lot of time when he was taking the order and preparing the drink as well.

“Had to put some muffins in the oven.” Katie shrugged.

“So where are they?” Castiel demanded.

“Huh?” Katie blinked at him.

“The muffins.”

Katie threw up her arms and rolled her eyes. “God. You’re no fun, Jimmy.” She returned to the backroom. Cas could only hope she’d actually bake some muffins.

And more of his precious time with Dean wasted. “Sorry.” Castiel allowed himself to give his customer a quick once over. Dean was casually leaning against the counter, showing off his hips and ass. His jeans were hugging him in all the right places and his worn tee shirt only helped to complete his casual yet utterly sinful look. Cas bit his lip.

Dean smirked at him. “So, Castiel…” Dean’s tongue peaked out a little and Castiel swallowed. “When are you finally gonna go out with me?”

Castiel took a deep breath, prepared to decline the offer yet again, even if it got harder and harder each time. It’s not that he didn’t want to, but he was acutely aware of Dean’s reputation and he just couldn’t handle being just another notch in his bedpost. Maybe if he wouldn’t know him. Maybe if Dean wouldn’t know so much about him by now. Castiel had revealed his real name, for fuck’s sake. “Dean…”

“Cas. Come on. Pleeeeease?” Dean pouted and sniffled a bit and Castiel was out of reasons to say no. All his papers were written and handed in, there were no more tests coming up and the gallery was opening that weekend, so he didn’t have any more commissions either. And maybe he deserved a treat for all his hard work. And maybe… fuck it.

“Alright. One date.” Castiel’s hands trembled and he quickly grabbed the pen to doodle on another cup. Drawing always calmed him down. Shit, what was he getting himself into?

“Wait, really?” Dean straightened up. He actually looked flustered for a moment.

“Yes?” Castiel already regretted it. He looked at the cup where he’d unconsciously been drawing Dean’s face. He quickly hid it under the counter before Dean could see it.

“Awesome!” Dean smiled like he just caught the canary and Castiel gulped. “Friday night?”

Castiel’s shaking increased. Should he pretend to be busy on Friday or admit that he wasn’t? On that note, why didn’t Dean have a date already lined up? “Friday night is fine,” Castiel decided. “Pick me up here at eight?”

“If you give me your address, I can…” Dean started to offer, but Cas interrupted him.

“Here’s fine.” Before Dean could argue, someone cleared their throat and Castiel realized that he’d been completely oblivious to other customers arriving. He gave Dean a sheepish smile, threw a glare towards the backroom and turned his attention towards the waiting customers.

Castiel had just grabbed a fresh cup when he looked up to see Dean leaving. As soon as he was out the door, Dean did a little celebratory jump, pumping his fist in the air. Castiel laughed. He adjusted his nametag and stared at the embossed “Jimmy” in neat letters. Maybe Jimmy deprived himself of too many pleasures and it was time to let Castiel have some fun. With Dean.

And maybe he should start to see a shrink if he was thinking of himself as two different personas.

***

After his shift was over, Castiel went straight home. He was happy that he didn’t have any classes that day, so he could set up his easel and paint. Painting should help him clear his head. And his mind was overflowing with thoughts on Dean. The first few times he’d come into the coffee shop, they’d just traded smiles and interested glances. Castiel had been so happy to find him in the same Math tutorial he had to attend. Who knew art even contained so much Math? But it ended up highly beneficial for Cas. Not only did he pass his class, but he’d finally gotten to know Dean.

They started hanging out after class. Dean told him that he’d put his little brother through college first and now he was working as a mechanic and taking night classes in mechanical engineering. His dream was to built the perfect motor for his car. Apparently it was pretty perfect already, but it guzzled gas like crazy. And it wasn’t so much the price of gas Dean was worried about as it was the carbon footprint he left on this earth. Everything about Dean was admirable.

Castiel’s own tale was different. After high school, he’d grabbed a backpack and toured Europe and Asia until all of his savings had run out and his parents cut him off. Once back home, he realized that while painting was his passion, he didn’t want to just be an artist. He didn’t want to be known. He didn’t want to be locked up in the art world and only communicate with other artists. What he did want was to change the world. There was so much pain and suffering. So many people needing just a little bit more beauty in their worlds. And while he was lucky enough to be able to provide some of that at this point of his life, he still wanted more. So he was studying art history in hopes of teaching art himself later.

Not that he’d told Dean all of that though. Dean knew he painted. What he didn’t know was that he was the rogue artist only known as Kaz. Nobody knew what he looked like or where he came from, but his art started to get recognized more and more. It wasn’t a publicity stunt for Castiel to be incognito. He was just too much of a recluse and didn’t want to have to justify his art to anyone. Or worse, be fawned over by admirers who might turn against him if they knew his real story.

Castiel had been adopted when he was still just a toddler. Apparently his birthparents had belonged to a religious cult. His father might have been his mother’s husband or it might have been the cult leader. Nobody knew. By the time the FBI stormed the compound, it had been too late for his parents. Or so he was told. Much of his past was still in the dark and Castiel wasn’t so sure he wanted to know.

His adoptive parents opted to change his name to James. They had only meant well. It was to prevent Castiel from being teased unnecessarily for his name, or worse, finding out about the cult. They couldn’t know the kids would find more than enough other reasons to bully him later. And by the time Castiel was old enough to be told of his origins, he was just pigheaded enough to resent his adoptive parents for their actions. For stripping him of his identity, as he’d accused them back then.

Years later, they’d forgiven each other. But the damage had been done. Their relationship was never the same. Castiel had kept James as his legal name, because it was too much of a hassle to change all of his papers and because his parents had been right. Those few times when he’d revealed his real name, he was mocked and teased for it.

Except for when he told Dean. Dean had smiled, thanked Castiel for trusting him with his secret and had never once used the name as a tease since. The first time Dean used the nickname though, Castiel had almost freaked out, thinking he was found out. But it was just what Dean did. Castiel was his friend and as such he deserved a special nickname.

It was quite ironic, really. In the beginning of their relationship, Cas was pining away. He’d given anything for Dean to ask him out. But then, Lisa, another girl from their tutorial, had sat down next to him one day and warned him about the notorious Dean Winchester. Apparently he was a serial heartbreaker. A different girl in each class. Rumor had it, sometimes even guys. And while the latter had been the only rumor Cas was happy to believe in, he’d soon spotted Dean flirting with a variety of girls both around campus and even in the coffee shop. So Castiel had pre-emptively ruled out all possibility of them ever being an item. And soon after, Dean had to drop out of Math tutorial because his shifts at the garage got changed around. And he’d only started asking Castiel out months later.

Castiel looked up from his easel and out the windows of his spacious loft. It was paid for by an anonymous patron through a lawyer. Apparently Meg had told them about the small, crappy place he’d been living in before and they immediately offered a deal. Castiel didn’t know who they were and they didn’t know where he lived. At first it had made him very uncomfortable, but by now he had to admit that the space was needed for all of his paintings and the money he saved by not paying rent just meant he could donate more to the various charities he supported.

He focused back on his painting and took a good long look at it. He’d painted Dean again, set before a junkyard full of scrap metal. Dean was holding up a dying carnation and looking accusingly straight out of the picture. Castiel sighed. Damn. It was a good piece, but he could never show it to anyone.

***

The next day, Dean came by The Happy Bean again and told him to wear something sharp. Castiel didn’t have time to question it, as for once Dean didn’t stop by in a lull and before Cas could say anything, Dean just winked at him and left.

So Friday had Castiel raid his closet, finally deciding on nice slacks and a dress shirt. He also put on a tie, though he was hoping to be able to ditch it again. It reminded him too much of his early years in private school. At least the dark blue tie would bring out his eyes. Or so the clerk had told him when he bought it.

Not wanting to actually go in and be roped into work, he stalled just long enough to arrive at the coffee shop on time. Dean was already waiting for him outside, cup of coffee in his hand, also dressed in slacks, a nice shirt and the same green jacket Cas had seen him wear a lot. Dean’s face lit up when he spotted him.

“You came,” Dean remarked.

“Of course,” Castiel frowned a little. Why did Dean think he would not?

“I got worried when they told me you’d taken the day off.” Dean bit his lip and then looked Castiel up and down. “You look great.”

“So do you,” Castiel returned the compliment, and then reached for his tie. “And I see I am overdressed.”

“No, don’t!” Dean reached out, cupping Castiel’s hands and keeping him from loosening the tie. “Uhm, I mean…” Dean stuttered, blushing. “I like the possibilities it represents.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “You mean that I could walk into a high end office building and pretend I belong?” Castiel straightened his tie again and licked his lips slowly, deliberately.

“Uh…” Dean swallowed. “That, too?”

Castiel laughed. “I don’t let people tie me up on the first date, Dean.”

Dean chuckled as well, then he narrowed his eyes with a smoulder. “How many dates would it take?”

“Why don’t we find out?” Castiel offered, holding out his hand for Dean to take.

Dean smiled and interlaced their fingers, pulling Castiel closer. “Just so you know though,” Dean whispered. “I do let people tie me up on the first date.”

Castiel let out a sound somewhere between a choke and a whimper. All those rumors about Dean be damned. He was with Castiel right now, so Castiel should make it count. He leaned in a little to nuzzle behind Dean’s ear. “So, you said this date was ordering in pizza from your couch, right?”

Dean snorted. “You wish.” He used his shoulder to playfully shove Castiel away, but kept their fingers interlaced. “Come on, casanova. We have somewhere to be.” Dean led him over to his car and after Castiel admired it appropriately, Dean drove them to their mystery destination.

Castiel got a bad feeling when they parked though and it only increased the closer they got to wherever Dean was leading him. It turned out to be the opening of an exhibition at a local art gallery. The very same gallery for which he’d done all those commissions. Of course he wasn’t the only artist featured and since Meg handled all of these things, he didn’t even know which pieces ended up on display, but still. This was potentially a disaster.

He didn’t want Dean to find out his secret. Additionally, he really didn’t want to hear other people openly judge his art. One of the biggest perks of his anonymity meant that he didn’t have to go to these things and mingle. Castiel inwardly sighed, but he smiled for Dean. “How’d you even know about this?”

“Hey, I’m not just some dumb mechanic. I know fine arts, as well.” Dean gave him a look, but quickly replaced it with a smug grin. “I asked around.”

“I see.” Castiel was still forcing his smiles. And to add to it, now he was wondering which of his fellow art students Dean was sleeping with.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dean frowned. “I thought you liked this? I was told there’d be food and drinks as well. But I have a back-up plan. There’s a nice pizza place not far from here.”

Castiel was very tempted to take him up on that offer, but he could sense that Dean had put a lot of thought into this, and he didn’t want to disappoint him. “No, it’s fine. It’s just… it reminds me of this project I have due for class,” Castiel lied. “And when I see all of the professional art, I feel intimidated.”

“Oh please. I’ve seen your cup art. I’m sure your stuff is even better than whatever is displayed in here. Probably just artists who slept with the right people.” Dean interlaced their fingers again and gave Cas an encouraging squeeze.

Castiel cringed, but returned the squeeze.

Dean stopped and pulled Castiel aside before they could enter. “Listen, Cas… I’m sorry for earlier. I don’t want you to think this is just a one time thing.”

“What?” Castiel huddled in on himself a little. This was what he wanted to hear, but not now, not here. He couldn’t find it in himself to relax.

“The joke,” Dean continued to explain. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. I’m not taking you out to get anything in return, ok?” Castiel didn’t reply, so Dean pressed on. “Well, just your company, obviously.” He leaned in when Castiel still didn’t relax. “Just so we’re crystal clear though? I would not be adverse to more.” Dean pressed a small kiss to the corner of Cas’ lips.

Castiel let out a shuddering breath and loosened his tie. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in Dean’s scent. He smelled like leather and musk and kinda woodsy. It was a familiar smell and helped to calm him down. He was here on a date with Dean. And nobody knew he was Kaz. And nobody needed to find out. It would be fine.

He opened his eyes and smiled shyly at Dean. “I’m sorry.” ‘It’s not you, it’s this place. It’s my secret.’ Castiel chastised himself. Dean had made an effort taking Castiel some place he thought he’d enjoy. The least he could do was give it a try. “You said something about food and drinks?”

Fingers interlaced, they entered the gallery. It was crowded inside. Castiel could see the majority of people enter the section labelled ‘Kaz’. It was flattering but also disconcerting to see. The first tray he spotted, he lifted two glasses of sparkling wine, handed one to Dean and almost downed all of his in one go.

Dean simply raised an eyebrow and got him a second flute. They walked around the less crowded areas, Dean apparently really enjoying the canapés. He was making sure Castiel ate his fill as well, even though he was still feeling queasy. But Castiel had to admit it was nice. They quietly commented on the art and the people present and Castiel had to admit that it was nice to look at the different styles on display. And Dean seemed to like some of it as well.

“People keep staring at me,” Dean complained once they’d seen everything but the Kaz part of the exhibition. He was rubbing his left arm in a gesture of discomfort. “I am used to a certain amount, but this… Am I catnip for rich people?”

Castiel frowned. He’d noticed it, too. It was weird. But Dean didn’t noticeably stick out. He was neither over- nor underdressed and sure, he was hot, but there were a lot of well-groomed couples staring at him. Patrons. And Cas doubled they were looking for a threesome.

Castiel was just about to suggest they leave, when, to his horror, Meg rounded the corner and upon spotting him, almost dropped her handbag.

“Clarence!” she screamed excitedly, running over to him and earning them quite a few stares. “Oh god, please tell me you being here means you’ll finally come out.”

Castiel cringed, but he really had to thank her for her poor choice of words at a later date. “I think everyone already knows I’m gay, Meg.” Castiel gave her a meaningful glare. “But if not, I guess you could say this is my coming out, seeing as my companion here,” he pointed at Dean, “has brought me here on a date.”

Meg’s gaze finally landed on Dean and her mouth dropped open in shock. “Oh fuck.” She looked at Castiel in alarm.

“What?” Sudden horror dawned on him. “What did you do, Meg?” He whispered harshly. Meg was his art dealer. She used to be his co-worker at The Happy Bean and discovered his secret when he was still new and kept doodling some of his signature designs on the cups without thinking about it. It was a mutually beneficial professional relationship, even if she was annoying him sometimes. Like when she insisted on calling him Clarence and pestering him to reveal himself.

“Listen, Jimmy, it’s, uhm…” She looked back and forth between him and Dean. “Maybe we should talk over there?” She pointed towards the far end of the gallery, far away from the Kaz exhibit.

But it was too late. As if magically drawn, Dean had made his way into the room with all the Kaz pieces on display. And right there smack dab in the middle of the whole show was one of his paintings of Dean. It was the one he’d done right after Dean showed him photos from his brother’s wedding. It was a portrait of Dean perfectly groomed, looking gorgeous as fuck. It was a painting from his private collection. His no-go stash Meg most definitely knew about. But she’d probably figured he’d never find out. And her plan might have even worked, were it not for the object in question himself.

“Holy fuck,” Dean whispered, wrapping his arms around himself and staring at the paining. “That is… that is so….”

Castiel wanted to supply a few helpful words. Flattering? Weird? Surreal? Embarrassing?

“Creepy.” Dean shivered. “Like… some sociopath is obviously stalking me. This is me from Sam’s wedding. That picture wasn’t public anywhere. This… this…” He stopped, eyes wide and frantic.

They had gathered quite a commotion by now and more and more people were staring at them, pointing at Dean and whispering. “You want to go?” Castiel offered.

Dean nodded numbly and Castiel had to physically give him a push to make him turn and leave the gallery. Castiel was distressed. It was his fault Dean was so distressed right now. If he knew how to make it better, he would. But Dean was so disturbed about the painting, he was too afraid revealing that he was the creep who’d painted it would make it even worse.

They’d reached Dean’s car and Dean was still deathly pale. “Do you want me to drive?” Castiel offered.

“What?” Dean blinked, then stroked his hand along the hood of his car reverently. “No, I’m good.”

They got in, but Dean wasn’t starting. Sitting in the car seemed to calm him down though. His breathing became gradually less labored. “Do you want to stop by my place? Get something to drink?” Castiel suggested.

Dean looked at him for a long time, apparently considering. “Alcohol sounds great right about now,” he decided and Cas gave him directions to his flat. While he was driving, Dean tried to apologize for the evening, but Castiel didn’t even let him get past “I’m sorry.”

“No, Dean. This is my fault,” Castiel started. Maybe he should just come clean after all. “You only went to the opening for me. And the piece… the painting… I’m sorry, Dean. I never meant…”

“You know what?” Dean interrupted him. “I’m done with this shit for tonight. Can we please just talk about something else?”

Castiel nodded. “So, how are your studies going? You handed in all of your papers yet?”

Dean groaned loudly before breaking into a burst of laughter. “This is how you distract me? God dammit, Cas.” He reached over to squeeze Cas’ thigh and grinned at him to soften the blow of his next words. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Cas blushed and fought very hard not to respond with ‘you think I’m pretty?’. “I better google small talk for our next date, huh?”

“You better,” Dean winked. “Then again, I’ve known you for so long, we might be past the small talk stage by now, don’t you think?”

Cocking his head, Castiel realized that Dean was right. They never had trouble to find something to talk about before. “How’s Sammy doing?”

Dean relaxed in his seat and proceeded to spend the rest of the drive chatting about his little brother. Things only got awkward again once they’d reached Castiel’s place and Castiel remembered why he didn’t want to be picked up here. For all Dean knew, Castiel was a poor student who had to work at The Happy Bean to get himself through college.

“Dude,” Dean looked up at the building Cas had directed him to. It was very obviously upscale. He even had a doorman. “This is where you live?”

“Uhm…” Castiel scratched the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“Are you back on better terms with your parents? That’s awesome, Cas.” Dean exclaimed.

“No, it’s not that.” Castiel had to deny, even though it would have been the easier explanation.

“Are you house sitting?” Dean tried.

“Nope.” Castiel wrung his hands. Now would be a good time to come clean.

“How much does The Happy Bean pay you? ‘Cause I’m sure I can make coffee as well, if this is what you get out of it,” Dean suggested.

Castiel sighed. “It’s paid for by a patron.” Dean just raised his eyebrows, so Castiel tried to explain. “This woman, she likes my art so much that she wants to support me, so she pays for my place to live.”

“What the hell?” Dean frowned. “You’re somebody’s kept boy? Cas, you don’t need to sell yourself for rent. If you’d told me… I’m sure we can find some other place for you to live. For now, you can crash on my couch. Just as long as we get you out of whatever deal you made with this cougar.”

“What?” Castiel froze. “What do you think I do for my patron?” He asked icily.

“Do you really need me to get graphic here?” Dean asked.

“Jesus Christ, Dean.” Castiel passed his hands through his hair. Did Dean really think Castiel was whoring himself out just to live in a nice place? “You know what? This was a mistake.” He opened the door and got out without a glance backwards. “Goodnight, Dean.” He slammed the door and strode over to the building. Before he could go in, he could hear the rumble of the Impala driving off. How had his date ended up so very wrong?

***

Later that night, after a few shots of whiskey and thinking it all through, Castiel called Meg. The night had started going wrong with the painting and this was something he could deal with right now.

Meg apologized profusely, but apparently the gallery hadn’t liked the painting she’d originally picked as centrepiece and in her desperation, she’d send over a few photographs of alternatives in that size, accidentally also attaching one of the portraits of Dean. Cas wasn’t so sure if he should believe her, since she wasn’t supposed to have pictures of it to begin with, but the damage was done. It was too late. She’d assured him that it was not for sale though, which was a small relief. Castiel would have been more than uncomfortable with someone buying his portrait of Dean. He just wanted it back safe and sound behind locked doors.

One thing dealt with, Castiel took a long shower and went to bed.

***

Early the next day, before his brain was properly functioning and he wasn’t freaking out yet, Castiel had a call on his voicemail. Dean asked him to come over to his place, giving him the address and directions. Castiel wasn’t so sure what to think about it, but it was Dean, so there was really no question. He got dressed and was on his way in no time.
Dean greeted him briefly at the door and then ushered him in. His apartment was small but functional. It was cluttered with textbooks and papers in one corner, but otherwise it was sparse. Except for Dean’s cupboard in his living room. What looked like every single cup Castiel had ever drawn for Dean had been cleaned and was now on display.

“Wow,” Castiel blinked. Her was a little overwhelmed. If he’d known Dean would like them this much, he’d have made even more of an effort. But also… Dean had kept all of his cups?

“So, I googled Kaz. K-A-Z that is, not, you know, you,” Dean started explaining. He raised his eyebrow. “Or should I rephrase that?”

“Dean…” Castiel bit his lip, having a feeling where this was going.

“Imagine my surprise when I spotted a few familiar doodles and designs,” he pointed towards the cups and Castiel started squirming.

This is how Meg had found out. But he’d tried his damn best to change his style for coffee cup doodles. Except for Dean’s. Castiel was too distracted when it was for Dean. “Uh…” Castiel didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re inspired by this guy, or that it’s a coincidence. I’m not stupid. I mean, you basically used your real name.” Dean gestured towards the cups.

“My name’s Jimmy,” Castiel mumbled silently. “You’re the only one who knows my real name.” He looked at the floor and scuffed his foot.

“Cas…” Dean sighed, voice softening. “Why didn’t you just tell me last night?”

“I dunno,” Castiel shrugged. He honestly didn’t. “I guess I was in shock. That painting of you? It never should have been in the gallery. I would never do that to you.”

“Why did you paint it in the first place?” Dean asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Castiel exclaimed. “How could I not? It takes a lot of effort not to include you in all of my paintings.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to look at the floor. “But why?”

“I try to spread beauty in this world. To make people happier through my art. And whenever I look at you, I’m happier,” Castiel confessed.

“So it’s just my looks then?” Dean questioned, trying to make it sound like a joke.

Castiel looked up sharply. “No, Dean. No!” He walked closer to Dean, reaching out to cup his cheek. But at the last moment, he pulled his hand away. “It’s all of you. You’re such a good person. You raised your brother and now you’re putting yourself through college all the while working full time. That takes a lot of dedication. And additionally you’re still making time to chat with me in the coffee shop. You know how many people pay attention to me? Nobody.”

“But you’re amazing,” Dean protested. “You have the most fascinating life. And even more so now. I feel like I could talk with you forever and never get bored.”

Castiel snorted. “Oh please. I am plenty boring.”

“Not to me,” Dean denied. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen Cas, what I said last night, what I insinuated… I’m really sorry. I have no idea what I was even thinking.”

Castiel shrugged. “It was a weird night. You were still freaked out by the painting.” He had to admit that it still hurt that Dean would think he was basically a prostitute though.

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s me. Sometimes I jump to conclusions way too fast. Especially if I care about someone. I always expect the worst. And things were going so well with us, there had to be a catch, you know?”

“You think things were going well?” Castiel questioned.

“You don’t?” Dean bit his lip.

“No, they were.” Castiel shrugged a bit. “Right until I screwed this up with my secret.”

“And then I screwed it up some more with my big mouth.” Dean smiled crookedly.

“Do-over?” Castiel suggested. “Let’s just pretend last night didn’t happen.”

Dean shook his head. “No, but I want to know more about your art life. I mean, you’re famous Cas, holy shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno,” Castiel sighed. “I never told anyone and you already know all of my other secrets. I wanted to though. Dean, if I ever wanted to tell anyone, it would most definitely be you.”

Dean smiled. “I’m sorry about calling you a hooker last night.”

Castiel did a double-take at Dean’s choice of words. But his eyes were full of mirth and in retrospect, it was best to laugh about it. “A hooker? I thought you saw me as more of a concubine. Performing for the enjoyment of a rich person, you know?”

“Fancy word, same thing,” Dean concluded. “I couldn’t have lived with it. I only want you to perform for me.” He moved closer, invading Castiel’s space.

“Dean… Do you mean it?” Castiel frowned a little. “You know this goes both ways, right? I don’t want you hooking up with other people. If we do this, it’s just you and me.” He trailed a finger up Dean’s chest.

“I don’t want anybody else. Why do you think I kept asking you out?” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist.

“But why? I know your reputation, Dean. I know about all the girls.” Castiel looked at the ground, but he didn’t push Dean away.

Dean scoffed. “I just flirt with them. And sure, I used to hook up with a lot of them before. But that was before.”

“Before?” Castiel asked.

“Before you.” Dean supplied. “You know how much time I’ve wasted standing in front of your damn coffee shop waiting for the rush to lull down just so I could talk to you? Just so I could ask you out again and again until you finally relented? Dammit Cas, you sure made me work for it.”

Castiel looked back up, surprised. He glanced behind Dean, eyes landing on the cups he’d kept. And was this really happening? He closed his eyes and leaned forward, closing the remaining distance between them with a kiss. Dean responded immediately, pulling him closer and letting his hands roam up and down his back. Castiel smiled into the kiss and slipped his own hands underneath Dean’s shirt, allowing himself to do what until now he’d only fantasized about in secret. - And allowing himself the hope, that his relationship with Dean would only grow deeper and more intimate and ultimately lead to something utterly amazing.

Aftercare (Destiel, NC-17)

2016-12-26T03:01:15Z

Title: Aftercare
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 3.000
Warnings: none
Summary: Dean gets hurt in a hunt and Castiel helps him feel better.
Author’s Note: Written for galadriel13 as part of the spn_j2_xmas exchange. Merry Christmas!

=> AO3 <=
Dean groaned as Sam and Castiel helped him into the motel room, blood seeping out from under the makeshift bandage consisting of Sam’s plaid. But nobody would care to investigate in the motel they’d chosen – as per usual. They dumped him on his bed and Sam ran back out to get the first aid kit.

Meanwhile Castiel slowly peeled the cloth off the wound. “This doesn’t look too bad, Dean.” Castiel assessed. “I thought, with the way you’ve been moaning, that it’d be life-threatening.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Gee, thanks, Cas. You sayin’ I’m whiney?”

Castiel looked taken aback, reapplying the cloth until Sam got back. “You just had me under the impression it was quite worse. I was… worried.” He looked down at the ground.

“So you are saying I’m whiney.” Dean huffed, swallowing another groan right back down before it could escape. “Why don’t you hand me a knife and I’ll slice half your side open and then let’s see what noises you’re making.”

“Why would you do that, Dean?” Castiel cocked his head with a frown. But upon seeing Dean’s sardonic look, he smartened up. “Oh. Right.” He bit his lip and looked back down.

Dean sighed, feeling bad. He reached out to touch, but Sam chose that moment to come back in, taking Castiel’s place at his side. “Cas says it’s not life threatening,” Dean informed his brother.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, smiling at the angel. “That’s good to know. Still gotta get you stitched up though.”

Sam set to work, cleaning the wound first and Dean kind of spaced out for the rest of the procedure. Damn monster got him good. And they still didn’t know what it was. Some kind of cross between a werewolf and a wendigo. At least it had only really laid into him. His brother and Cas were relatively unscathed. Dean counted that as a small victory. He could handle the physical pain much better than seeing one of his companions in pain.

Dean’s gaze fell onto Cas, who was sitting at the foot of the bed now, absently playing with a loose thread on his trench coat and not looking at any of them. He seemed miserable. Dean frowned. “Hey, Cas?” He nudged him with his foot.

“Dean?” Cas was alert immediately.

“Get me my medicine?” Dean gave him a pleading look, knowing Cas disapproved. He obligingly handed over Dean’s bottle of Whiskey though and Dean took a large swig.

“Dammit, Dean,” Sam cursed. “Could have waited until I was done.” He frowned, still concentrated on his stitches.

“You didn’t give me any anesthetics. You’re a bad nurse, Sammy,” Dean joked.

“At this point, it’s Doctor Winchester to you.” Sam smirked at him, tying off the thread. “And I agree with Cas. This is obviously not as bad as you made it sound.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam retorted with a genuine smile. “Still gotta take antibiotics and we’re out.” He got up with a sigh. “I’m off looking for a pharmacy. You good?”

Dean nodded, forcing out a smile. His wound actually hurt something fierce now that Sam had cleaned it out and aggravated it further with the stitches. “I’m awesome.” He gave Sam a thumbs up. “Besides, I got Nurse Blue Eyes here to take care of me.” He nudged Cas again.

Sam looked like he was fighting down a comment, but then he just nodded with a smirk, patting Dean’s leg before getting up and changing into a clean shirt. By the time Sam was heading back out, Cas had taken up his spot on Dean’s bedside again.

As soon as the door closed, Cas let out a shuddering sigh and stroked his hand over Dean’s forehead. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“What? For mocking my pain earli…” Dean didn’t get to finish because Castiel interrupted him.

“I can’t heal you.” Castiel sounded angry at himself. “If it had been serious, Dean, I… I…”

Dean took his hand and squeezed. “Listen, Cas. It’s not your fault your powers are out of whack. We were doing fine before you were with us, we’ll be fine aga…” Now Dean stopped himself. “That’s not what I mean.” He pulled Cas closer, not able to stifle the wince when it jostled his wound. Cas resisted but eventually relented and carefully leaned in. “I don’t need you for your power. I’m taking you any way I can get you, ok?”

Castiel smiled softly, but then he shook his head, about to protest again.

“No,” Dean shushed him. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re an invaluable member of the team, Cas.”

Cas looked at him and Dean could tell that he hadn’t reached him yet. If anyone knew about self-loathing, it was Dean. And Cas was giving him a run for his money these days.

“I know something you can do,” Dean teased, trying to break the tension.

“Anything,” Cas breathed.

“Kiss it better?” Dean offered. They’d recently finally started being intimate with each other. It was still new and they hadn’t told Sam yet. They were taking it very slow, mostly because Dean didn’t want to spook the angel. And also, if he was really, really honest with himself, because he liked it this way. He’d never taken his time to explore a significant other. They’d moved around too much and Dean never cared enough. And the two times he did, he only started caring after already having had sex.

Castiel’s smile returned and he leaned in to kiss Dean’s temple.

Dean winced, because dammit, he was more sore than he thought. Cas moved to his cheek and Dean winced again, this time just for show.

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Dammit, Dean. Where doesn’t it hurt?”

Dean pointed to his lips, biting his cheek to stop from laughing.

Castiel leaned in, but before they could kiss, he turned his head, breaking into laughter. “You made me watch that movie,” he accused.

Dean laughed with him, remembering the night they’d marathoned Indiana Jones curled up on the couch together. “C’mere.” He buried a hand in Castiel’s unruly locks and pulled him in for a kiss.

Cupping Dean’s cheek, Castiel returned the kiss eagerly and soon enough, Cas had shucked out of his trench coat and was climbing up on the bed to straddle Dean.

Dean looked up at his angel, face flushed, eyes wide. “Cas…. What are you doing?”

Cas bit his lip but went ahead and unbuttoned his shirt. “Let me, Dean,” he pleaded and Dean nodded in reply.

“Whatever you want.” He spread out his arms, but that pulled on his stitches and he grimaced.

“I want to take your pain away,” Cas whispered, leaning down carefully, avoiding Dean’s wound. He ground his ass against Dean’s erection experimentally and Dean groaned again, but this time not in pain.

“Cas… You don’t have to…” Dean’s hands settled on Castiel’s hips.

“I want to,” Cas insisted, grinding down again with a purpose.

Dean reached up and slid the shirt off of Cas, caressing his back and shoulders as they continued kissing. When Cas came up for air, Dean used the newly created space to play with Cas’ nipples. It made him grind down extra hard and let out a guttural moan. Dean grinned, rubbing the little nubs to hardness. This might be his most favourite discovery so far. It gave him such a rush to see Cas falling apart with the simplest of touches in just the right places.

In retaliation, Cas tugged Dean’s hair just a little too hard and Dean shuddered in pleasure. Cas grinned down at him knowingly and tugged again before soothing the sting with gentle strokes. Dean almost purred.

“Feel good?” Cas asked, lips close to Dean’s ear. He nuzzled his way back to Dean’s lips and nibbled on his bottom lip before meeting Dean for another deep kiss.

Dean moaned in reply, grinding up against Cas. On the one hand, he wanted to keep this slow, but on the other hand, the adrenaline from the hunt still cursing through him coupled with the generous swallow of Whiskey was doing their part as well. “Cas. Cas, I want...” Dean whispered against Castiel’s lips.

“Yeah,” Castiel nodded, reaching between them to unbutton Dean’s pants. He hesitated suddenly, hand hovering over Dean’s cock with a slight frown. “Dean, I want, too.”

Dean cupped his cheek, thumb softly stroking over his cheekbone. “You don’t have to.”

”I want to,” Castiel insisted. He stilled, looking at Dean crestfallen. “Today, I could have…” He shook his head. “I want to.”

Dean pulled him back down for a small, sweet kiss. “Ok. Ok, let’s do this. There’s lube in my…”

“Dean. I know where our lube is located,” Castiel cocked his head, climbing off and heading for Dean’s duffle bag.

The whole scene felt so surreal that Dean just had to laugh again. He carefully shimmied out of his jeans, mindful of his stitches and spread his legs when Castiel returned with the lube. He was a little nervous and considered asking Cas to go slow, but knowing his angel, there was no need to worry.

But Castiel frowned again, shaking his head a little. “No, Dean. I want.”

“Oh.” Dean’s mouth dropped open and he was gaping when Castiel unbuttoned his dress pants and took them off along with his boxer briefs. He’d seen Castiel naked before multiple times now, but it never failed to take his breath away just how beautiful he was. He trailed his fingertips over Cas’ hipbone.

Cas smiled softly and straddled Dean on the bed once again, slapping Dean’s hands away when he reached for him. “No. You just lie there and let me take care of you.” Before Dean could protest, Cas had uncapped the lube and poured a generous amount on two of his fingers.

Dean could do nothing but gape at him and watch as the fingers disappeared from view. “Cas…” His voice broke. “Oh god. Just go slow, just like I showed you and…” Dean griped the sheets when Castiel let out a groan. “Oh god. Oh god. Tell me… what you’re doing.” It was driving Dean insane that he couldn’t participate right now.

“I…” Castiel looked at Dean, flushing bright red. “I have one finger…” He looked away.

Dean shuddered. Damn. This was hot. “Are you going nice and slow? Giving yourself time to stretch?”

Castiel nodded. He didn’t offer more words, so Dean took pity on him.

“Can you add a second finger? Just the tip for now, Cas. I want you to try, for me.”

Castiel whimpered and Dean could see precome pooling at the head of his cock. Castiel was obviously liking this. Good.

“Keep going. You’re doing so good. So good for me, Cas.” Dean dared a touch, placing his hands on Castiel’s thighs. The other man didn’t reprimand him, so Dean left them there, softly stroking up and down. “Are they in? Are you at two for me?” Castiel nodded in affirmation, face hidden again. “Look at me,” Dean commanded. “Cas, please.”

After some hesitation, Castiel met his eyes. “What… next, Dean?”

Dean knew Cas knew what to do, but he appreciated him playing along. “Scissor them. Spread yourself for me. I want you good and ready, so I can slide right in.” And there’d be minimal pain for Cas. “Take your time, Cas. And let me hear you moan. I want to know if you enjoy this.”

“Yes… Dean,” Castiel panted, his next noise an uncoordinated grunt. Like he had been holding in his moans and wasn’t sure just which sounds to make.

“Let go, Cas. Just let go and feel.” Dean trailed his fingers a little higher and wrapped a fist around Castiel’s cock, spreading the precome and stroking him a few times. It caused Cas to let out something unintelligible, but he sagged forward against Dean, moaning in abandonment. It was music to Dean’s ears.

“Dean…” Castiel rubbed his face against Dean’s. “More.”

“You ready for a third finger, Cas?” Dean asked, reaching for the lube. “But first I need you to pull out.” Cas made a noise of protest. “I know it’s hard, but do this for me. Pull out, give me your fingers. Good boy,” Dean praised when Cas complied. He coated three of Cas’ fingers liberally with more lube and placed a small kiss on his wrist before letting go again. “Alright. Now you can resume.” Dean winked.

Castiel narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t complain. “Ngh.” His eyes screwed shut in pain.

”Slow, remember?” Dean cupped Castiel’s cheek again. “We have time. Besides, I like hearing you moan for me.” It didn’t take long for bliss to return to Castiel’s features and Dean was glad. He poured some lube on his own hand and did quick work on his own cock, not lingering too long, because he was way too sensitive already. Seeing Cas writhe on top of him because he was getting himself ready for Dean was just the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Dean, I’m ready,” Castiel announced, not pulling out his fingers yet though.

“Yeah?” Dean asked. “Just keep going. Spread your fingers. I want to hear more noises.” Castiel grunted, but did as he was told. After a few more minutes, Dean decided to trust that he was amply prepped. “Ok,” Dean licked his suddenly dry lips. “Ok, Cas. Ok.”

Castiel gave him a wide smile and pulled his fingers out, positioning himself above Dean’s cock eagerly. Dean gripped himself to keep it steady and carefully helped guide Castiel down. “Dean!” Castiel exclaimed when he got breached. “Oh. It’s so… So full.”

Dean gripped the base of his cock to starve off his orgasm. Castiel was tight and hot and it just felt so good, he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he thrust upwards as slow as he could manage to help Cas along. When he bottomed out, they stopped moving. Their faces were inches apart and both of them were panting harshly. Dean leaned up for an open-mouthed kiss, waiting until Castiel was accustomed enough to start moving.

Castiel was slowly rolling his hips, experimenting a few times until he seemed to find a movement that worked for him. Dean held onto his waist but otherwise stayed still, letting Castiel find his own way. And whatever Cas did, it all felt heavenly for Dean.

After a few more rolls of his hips, Cas lifted himself a little and sunk back down. “Dean. Dean,” Cas chanted his name. “So good.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Keep going, Cas. Feels good.” He moved his hands up to Cas’ nipples again, but this time Castiel slapped him away.

“No. Too much. Please don’t,” Cas pleaded. Dean’s hands settled on Castiel’s hips again instead. “Thanks,” Cas whispered. “I want to… keep enjoying this as long as possible.”

Dean smiled up at him. Maybe it was good that this was happening now that Dean was hurt and unable to move properly. Otherwise he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t flip Cas right over and take him apart. But watching Cas chase his own pleasure on top of Dean was a kink Dean didn’t even know he had. It took all of his concentration to keep his own orgasm at bay. He purposefully put a strain on his fresh wound.

Cas noticed though and he gripped both of Dean’s hands, pinning them above Dean’s head in a strong grip. “No. Not allowed,” he husked and there was another one of Dean’s buttons pressed.

Dean whimpered but complied, leaning back and letting Cas ride him. Their eyes met and neither of them looked away until Dean just couldn’t hold back anymore. He came on a moan of Castiel’s name.

Castiel smiled at him and rode him through the aftershocks, gripping his own cock and pulling himself to completion quickly, like he’d just been waiting for Dean to tumble over first.

After, Castiel collapsed on top of Dean’s chest and they both lay there, eyes closed, enjoying the afterglow. In Dean’s case, it was over a little sooner than he wanted to because as soon as his brain was functioning again, the pain in his side came back with a vengeance.

Castiel rolled over to Dean’s good side quickly and they both groaned at the loss when Dean slipped out unceremoniously. “Sorry,” Castiel apologized, placing a kiss on Dean’s chest.

“Sorry?” Dean carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair gently. “There is absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about, Cas. Thank you. This was…” Words failed him once again. “We definitely need to do that again. Often.”

“But next time, please don’t be hurt,” Castiel whispered.

Dean chuckled. “Well, sorry to tell you this, Cas, but in two hours, I will still be hurt.”

Castiel snorted. “In two hours, Sam will be back.”

Dean frowned. Well, that sucked. He had a brief flash of panic about his brother returning any minute now and finding them like this, but then he actually pictured it, and it wasn’t too bad. Maybe if Sam knew, he’d be more inclined to leave again and grant them a little more privacy. Castiel was about to move out of the bed, but Dean gripped him tightly. “No, stay.”

“But Sam…”

“Can mind his own business,” Dean finished for him. “Just grab my shirt and clean us up a little?” Dean requested, since he was unable to reach down himself at the moment.

Castiel nodded and did as asked. “You sure though, Dean? About Sam?” Castiel settled against Dean’s chest, pulling the covers up over the both of them.

“Mhm,” Dean replied sleepily. Maybe if his brain wouldn’t be so mush right now, he’d care a bit more. But right now, he really just wanted to fall asleep with his angel tucked safely to his side. He closed his eyes and dozed off with his hand buried in Castiel’s hair, keeping him close.

And that’s how Sam found them when he returned, bag of antibiotics in hand.

If This Is It (Jensen/Misha, PG, AU)

2016-06-14T15:35:48Z

Title: If This Is It
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Misha, AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 3.200
Warnings: none
Summary: The one thing Misha is looking forward to each week are the days when his favorite street musician is playing. One day, he finally stops and ends up hiring Jensen to play at his birthday party. What Misha forgot to disclose is that it's a party of one.
Author’s Note: Written for the Cockles Big Bang 2016.

=> AO3 <=

Misha trudged to his office in a slump, clutching his travel mug full of steaming coffee like the lifeline it was. It would be another boring day with too much work to do and not enough time to do it in. His boss would no doubt find an urgent project that needed to be done straight away and his secretary would be mad at him again for sharing part of the workload. Like it was his own personal fault the higher-ups always thought of stupid new shit which would eventually raise their workload even more.

Then he remembered. It was Tuesday. And Tuesday meant he would be there. Misha picked up his step only to slow back down as soon as he heard the first chords being played. Tuesdays and Fridays the street corner was graced by a talented musician with the voice of an angel and the face of a Greek god. Misha sighed happily and hid his smile behind his travel mug, pretending to smell the coffee.

He never lingered though; he always walked right on. Because the sooner he got to the office the sooner he could leave again. But by that time, the musician would be gone. Still. If Misha allowed himself to stop for a full song or two, he would never leave again and just spend his whole morning gazing at the musician in a happy bubble.

Today, he was playing Strawberry Fields Forever and Misha was still humming along to it in his mind hours later, when he was chained to his desk.

It had turned into another long week of working overtime and nursing an oncoming cold, fighting off a headache and just generally being really sore. So when Friday rolled around, Misha was ready to call it a week. The only reason he got up at all was the prospect of hearing the musician play again.

However when Misha got within hearing range this time, he frowned slightly because he couldn’t place the song. And he always knew the songs being played. It irritated him that he couldn’t immediately pick up on it and hum along. It was a good song though, and the more he listened to the lyrics, the slower his steps became until he ended up stopping just next to the musician as if in a trance, listening closely.

The musician was singing about all the reasons you give yourself for not fulfilling your dreams, all the little excuses and lies you tell yourself. In the last verse, the protagonist realized that he could die any day and why waste another second?

Misha breathed out when it was over, staring at the musician. It felt like a punch to the gut. All the vacations he never took, the short trips to meet up with friends, the plays he never went to. Hell, he never even bothered to stop and smell the roses – or in this case, listen to the street musician.

The street musician who had finished his song and was looking at him with a smile on his lips now. “Hello,” he rasped in his soft voice and winked.

“What song was that?” Misha blurted out before he could help himself, startled out of his stupor and realizing that he was being very rude, not even saying hello back like a decent human being. He bit his lip.

The musician however just smiled another shy smile and looked at the ground bashfully. “Oh that? That was one of mine.”

“But you always play covers,” Misha replied, his lips again moving before his brain could catch up.

“No, you just never stay to listen,” the musician replied, winking again. Then he gripped his guitar tighter and turned away and Misha realized he was going to launch into another song and end the conversation.

“Can I buy you?” Misha quickly yelled out, making a few heads turn his way. He blushed crimson when he realized what he’d just said. “Uhm, your music, I mean,” he added to clarify, passing his hand through his hair and finally looking down at the pavement to see if maybe he could spot a display. But all he saw was a propped open guitar case with a few coins thrown in.

“Naw man, my music is not for sale,” the guy replied before leaning closer. “However it so happens, I am.”

Misha shuddered at hearing that voice so close to his ear. His brain almost short-circuited at all the implications and mental pictures that flooded his brain before the musician could elaborate.

“I play weddings and office parties and store openings or whatever.” The musician was bending over to reach into his guitar case, producing a business card to hand over.

Misha had just forced his eyes away from the singer’s ass, hopefully in time not to be found out, and accepted the card gratefully. “Jensen Ackles?” He asked, reading the bold lettering.

“That’s me,” the musician, Jensen, grinned. “Give me a call if you get tasked with planning the Christmas party or, you know…” He trailed off, giving Misha a not-so-subtle once-over and licking his lips.

Misha’s mouth went dry but he felt emboldened enough to ask his next question. “Do you play birthday parties?”

“Depends,” Jensen shrugged. “What age are we talking about?”

“Uhm, thirty-five?” Misha replied, slightly confused.

“Cool,” Jensen nodded. “It’s just, after playing kids’ songs for a few hours, I get really depressed.”

“No kids’ songs. Definitely.” Misha scrunched up his nose.

Jensen laughed softly. “God, you’re adorable. If I’d known playing one of my own songs would finally make you stop, I’d have timed my sets better.”

“What?” Misha blinked. Did Jensen just say that, or was his mind playing cruel tricks on him?

“When’s your party?” Jensen asked without missing a beat.

“Monday?” Misha asked, hoping Jensen would be free.

“In three days?” Jensen sounded slightly panicked.

“Yeah? Is that not ok? Do you have other engagements?” Misha was about to suggest another date when Jensen held up his hand.

“No, no. I’m free. I just won’t be able to fit in many song requests, in case I don’t already know how to play them,” Jensen explained apologetically.

“Oh. I don’t care. Just play what you usually play here,” Misha shrugged. “Maybe some of your own songs?”

“I can do that.” Jensen’s cheeks turned a slight pink. “Did you really like the song?”

“I loved it.” Misha nodded enthusiastically. “And I meant it. I’d buy your CD.”

“Wait until you’ve heard more,” Jensen cautioned. “You might regret buying that junk.”

Misha somehow strongly doubled that, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. “So, Monday?”

“Text me time and address,” Jensen confirmed. “And any song requests you can think of.”

“Will do,” Misha nodded enthusiastically, shuffling his feet and not really ready to move on just yet. Jensen gave him a bright smile and then turned, playing the first chords of Let It Be.

After a few more awkward seconds, Misha realized he had better go to work, so he pocketed Jensen’s business card carefully and left to face the chaos.

***

Misha had set the time for 8 p.m., thinking that would give him ample time to eat dinner and get ready before Jensen showed up. However even though it was his birthday, the workload wouldn’t stop but instead, a bunch of co-workers would pop in to congratulate him at random times, always distracting him from his tasks. He wasn’t really complaining though – it was great that so many of them remembered and obviously cared. Yet still. He had plans.

By 7:45 Misha just emerged from his shower, hair still dripping wet, when his doorbell rang. He cursed, quickly jumped into a pair of sweat pants and rubbed his hair dry on the way to the door, expecting the pizza delivery guy. Instead it was Jensen on the other side, looking impeccable in tight jeans and a dark red plaid button down. Misha’s eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.

“Hey,” Jensen scratched the back of his neck. “Looks like I’m too early. I can go around the block and come back in fifteen?”

“No, it’s…” Misha crossed his arms in front of his chest, realizing he wasn’t wearing much of anything. “Come in,” he squeaked before he could think better of it.

“Thanks.” Jensen entered as soon as Misha made room for him, looking around the tiny apartment. “Where should I set up?”

“Oh, uhm…” Misha passed a hand through his hair, cringing when it came back wet. “Just wait on the couch and I’ll get ready?” He bit his lip and pointed towards his living room, then hurried in the direction of the bathroom again. He stopped before he entered though, turning around and throwing his wallet, which he’d left on the kitchen cabinet, at Jensen. “If it rings again, please pay the pizza man?”

“Sure,” Jensen smiled, catching the wallet smoothly.

Misha retreated back to his bathroom, changing quickly before he could start to hyperventilate. He just applied some after shave when he heard the doorbell ring again. But instead of checking up on it, he furiously towelled his hair until it was dry enough. No time to style it, he just passed his hands through it a few times until it looked tame enough before joining Jensen again.

The pizza box was sitting on the coffee table and Jensen held out the wallet for Misha to take back. “I wasn’t sure if this is right. How many people did you even invite?” Jensen raised an eyebrow.

“People?” Misha swallowed hard. “Oh. Right.” He bit his lip, looking away. “Uhm, none?”

Jensen cocked his head. “But the party is happening here?”

“Yes?” Misha’s eyes flitted through the room nervously. “This is creepy, isn’t it? God, I’m sorry. I just…”

“Is this a date?” Jensen asked. “Cause you know, you could have just asked me…”

“What? No!” Misha fisted a hand in his hair. “It’s my birthday. Today. It really is…” He trailed off, considering showing Jensen his I.D. But that wouldn’t really help, would it? “I just… I wasn’t going to do anything but then I thought, I like music. I never take the time to stop and listen to you play. So I just thought…” He hid his face in both hands, feeling himself crashing.

“No, hey.” Jensen had gotten up and placed a hand on Misha’s shoulder, rubbing softly. “I get it. Make yourself happy first, right?”

“What?” Misha sniffled a bit, rubbing at his face furiously to get his grip back.

“It’s perfectly ok to just do something for yourself. It’s just, I didn’t expect this.” Jensen shrugged. “But it’s fine. I’ll play for you.”

“Really?” Misha lowered his hands, looking at Jensen and realizing just how close the other man was. And how nice he smelled. He took a deep breath and had to suppress a shudder.

“Sure.” Jensen lowered his hand, but he was still touching Misha’s arm. “I’m flattered you invited me to play for you.”

“You make me happy,” Misha said, with a soft smile. “On the mornings you play, I mean. I’m always happier to go to work knowing I’ll be hearing your voice on the way.”

Jensen beamed at him. “Thanks. Nobody’s ever said something this nice to me. Best I can hope for is nobody is bothered enough to call the cops on me.”

“But why would they?” Misha was bewildered. “Your voice is so…” He gestured, not knowing the right word for it. “Smooth.”

Jensen laughed, patting Misha’s back before putting more distance between them. “Again, thank you.” He went to his guitar case and opened it, taking out his instrument. “So, where do you want me to set up?”

Misha looked around his small apartment, realizing that he hadn’t thought this through at all. “You can stand behind the couch if that is less creepy. Then I won’t be able to look at you.”

Jensen gave him a look that conveyed how ridiculous he thought that idea was. He took up root right next to the TV instead. “How about here?”

“Good. That is… good.” Misha bit his lip again. He took his usual seat on his couch while Jensen was tuning his guitar. His eyes fell on the pizza box and he remembered his manners. “Do you want some pizza?”

“Already ate,” Jensen shrugged. “But please go ahead and eat yourself. I don’t mind.”

Misha nodded gratefully and opened the box. This was really weird though. He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. He should have at least invited a few colleagues over. Then again, he didn’t want anyone else with him right now. He just wanted to relax and listen to his street musician.

By the time Jensen played his second song, Misha got up and opened a bottle of wine, offering Jensen a glass. Without interrupting his set, Jensen just nodded and Misha poured him a glass, leaving it on the table.

Jensen was on his fourth song by the time Misha had finished half of his pizza. He closed the box and took a large sip from his wine, leaving back further in his couch, finally relaxed. When the song was done, Jensen reached over to take a drink as well.

“Any requests?” Jensen asked.

“The song from Friday,” Misha was quick to answer. “The one about not wasting your life.”

Jensen smirked. “I’m glad you got the message.” As he played, Misha closed his eyes, giving himself over to the music and reflecting on his life. It was a melancholy song and Jensen followed it up with another original, this one more upbeat and all about displaying your love proudly.

Jensen continued playing four more covers before ending with another two original songs. By the time Jensen’s set was over, his glass of wine was empty and Misha had had two of them. He offered Jensen a refill, but the musician declined, packing up his guitar instead.

Misha was slightly disappointed, but he was so relaxed and elated, it was ok that Jensen prepared to leave. As awkward as this started out, Misha was really glad he went and hired Jensen to play for him. The thought made him realize he still had to pay the man in question.

Misha opened his wallet, taking out two hundred dollars. “How much is it?” They had never talked about price, but he figured that should cover it.

“Oh no,” Jensen was close again, close enough to put his hand on top of Misha’s and making him close the wallet. “Don’t pay me.”

Misha looked at him in confusion. “Why not?”

“If you pay me, I don’t get to do this,” Jensen explained, leaning in and giving Misha a chaste kiss. He pulled back with a chagrined smile and Misha woke up enough to reach out and pull him in for another, longer kiss.

This time, when Jensen pulled back, they were both flushed and smiling at each other. “So…” Misha tried, but failed, to put his thoughts into words.

“So, this was nice,” Jensen finished for him. “Call me sometime.” He moved out of Misha’s reach and grabbed his guitar case, making his way over to the front door.

“Wait!” Misha followed him, placing his hand on Jensen’s arm lightly so he wouldn’t be able to open the door. “Stay?”

“I really shouldn’t…”Jensen hedged, biting his lip, his gaze landing on Misha’s lips. Jensen licked his, eyes flicking up to gaze at Misha.

“It’s my birthday,” Misha offered, hand moving over Jensen’s arm until he could clasp his fingers with Jensen’s, tugging him back into the room suggestively.

“You make an excellent point there,” Jensen followed, dropping his guitar case. “I didn’t even get you a gift.”

Before Misha could protest, seeing how Jensen had played a whole set of music for him just now and anyway, they weren’t even friends, really, he didn’t owe him any gifts, Jensen ended his train of thought with another kiss.

**

The next morning, Misha woke up alone. He groaned, rolling over to the side Jensen had occupied the night before, and clutched at Jensen’s pillow, inhaling deeply. Misha smiled. That had been his best birthday in ages. He hugged the pillow and rolled back over happily, spending another five minutes in bed before starting his morning rituals.

He was a bit disappointed that Jensen hadn’t left him a note of any kind, but he had his number and a good feeling about this.

On his way to work, Misha realized that it was Tuesday. His steps faltered at first, but then he quickly made his way to Jensen’s usual corner, hearing his music before he saw him, as usual. When he entered Jensen’s peripheral vision, Jensen stopped playing mid-song and instead launched into one of his own. The one from the night before, about not hiding your love affairs and being proud of them.

Misha’s face lit up and he stopped, listening to the full song and never once breaking eye contact with Jensen, who seemed to sing just for him, just as he’d done the night before. When the song was over, a few people actually started clapping, but Misha didn’t really take notice. Instead he was mesmerized by Jensen, who waved him closer. Misha went, of course he went, and when he was just close enough, Jensen pulled him in for a deep kiss.

They were both grinning brightly when they parted. “Sorry I missed you this morning,” Jensen apologized.

“You’re here,” Misha shrugged. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“It’s Tuesday,” Jensen explained. “I had to go make someone’s day a little happier.”

Misha leaned over for another quick kiss. “I’ve gotta go to work though,” he informed Jensen regretfully.

“I know,” Jensen pushed him away. “Go.” Misha was still within his reach though and Jensen ruffled his hair. “Friday night?”

“Friday night?” Misha repeated, hands twitching to smooth his hair back down. But his scalp was tingling nicely from Jensen’s touch.

“For our next date,” Jensen clarified. “And you better be cooking for me.”

“I can make you pancakes Saturday morning?” Misha offered.

Jensen laughed. “That works.” He took a step forward, stealing another kiss. “Call me?”

Misha nodded, hand fisting in Jensen’s short cropped hair to pull him in for another dirty kiss. He bumped into the guitar which was thankfully keeping them at a distance and reminding him where they were. He sighed and kissed the corner of Jensen’s lips before quickly walking away without turning around.

He could just hear the first few chords of Strawberry Fields Forever when he rounded the corner with a spring in his step. No matter how crazy this week got, he knew it would just fly by until it was finally Friday again and he’d get to hear Jensen in the morning and then see him in the evening. Misha was beyond glad he decided to finally stop and listen instead of just walking past like he had so many times before.

Hannover Comic Con Pictures

2016-06-06T19:51:33Z

Alright, so I pretty much stopped posting here. Still need to go through my Asylum photos, but I was at Hannover Comic Con (run by MCM) last weekend and had good seats for three panels. Some pics are still blurry and way too yellow - and I had a bad angle for Nick Blood, but here's a few pics for you:

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. panel with Nick Blood and Luke Mitchell
Dark Matter panel with Roger Cross, Jordelle Ferland and Zoie Palmer
Lost Girl panel with Kris Holden-Ried, Paul Amos and Zoie Palmer

The Benefits Of Yoga (Jensen/Misha, NC-17)

2016-03-29T15:25:19Z

Title: The Benefits Of Yoga
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Misha
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 1.400
Warnings: none
Summary: Jensen realizes how bendy Misha is. This is pretty much PWP.
Author’s Note: Written for rockstarpeach as part of the spnspringfling exchange. Her prompt was "Hold my beer and watch this!"

=> AO3 <=

It had started innocently enough.

”Hold my beer and watch this!” Misha exclaimed cheerfully, handing said beer over to Jensen and pushing people out of the way so he could stretch his legs.

Jensen watched transfixed as Misha slowly bent and twisted himself into a yoga position Jensen had never even seen before. And when Misha looked up at him with a cocky grin and a wink, Jensen’s brain just kind of short-circuited. And before he knew what was happening, he ignored all of their other friends and dragged Misha away from the party as soon as he was standing upright again.

And that’s how they found themselves in Jensen’s apartment, Misha pushed up against the wall, legs around Jensen’s waist, Jensen’s tongue down his throat and both shamelessly rutting against each other. Misha’s shirt was somewhere by the door, Jensen’s button down ripped open, his chest sporting red stripes from where Misha had scratched him.

Jensen broke the kiss to catch some much needed air, but he couldn’t lose contact, so he trailed his lips along Misha’s cheek, revelling in the drag and scratch from Misha’s stubble. “God, Mish…” he panted. “I can’t wait to be inside of you. Gonna feel so good.”

“Do it then,” Misha pushed at his chest, hands staying there and twisting Jensen’s nipples. “Fuck me.” He leaned closer, whispering in Jensen’s ear. “Hard.” He bit Jensen’s earlobe and tugged.

Jensen growled. “Off.” He fumbled with Misha’s zipper, lips finding lips again, but he was biting and marking more than anything.

Misha’s head slammed against the wall and he let out a high pitched keen. “Dammit, Ackles.”

Jensen hissed when he got scratched again and he bumped Misha into the wall with a little more force in retaliation. It only seemed to egg Misha on, because the other man just laughed and dug his heels in further, bringing their crotches closer together.

But they were still both wearing their pants and Jensen finally realized that they had to untangle to get rid of them. With a sigh of regret, he let Misha go, setting him down just long enough so they could both discard of their remaining garments in between more dirty kisses.

As soon as they were naked, Misha all but jumped in his arms and Jensen pushed him back up against the wall. This time, there was nothing else between them and Misha reached down to fist both of their cocks in his hand. “Oh fuck,” he moaned. “It’s so big. I want it in me. Yesterday.”

Jensen grinned, pushing two fingers between Misha’s lips so he could wet them for him. “Think you can handle it?”

“You might have to force me to take it all,” Misha suggested after Jensen removed his fingers.

Jensen narrowed his eyes, kissing Misha hungrily while his fingers sought entrance. He pushed the first one in, following with the second soon after. He wished he had some lube handy right now, but the bottle was way too far away.

“Not gonna break me,” Misha cupped his cheek in a stolen tender moment. “Seriously. Just do it. I want to feel the burn.”

“You’re still gonna feel it next week,” Jensen promised, scissoring his fingers.

Misha groaned, sucking one of his own fingers between his lips and wetting it before joining Jensen in his prep.

Jensen shuddered when he felt Misha’s finger enter besides his. “So hot.” He wished he could see better. “Love how you open yourself up for me, Mish.”

“Gimme that cock,” Misha replied, his other hand still fisting their dicks together. “Do it. Do it now. I’m good.” He let go and tried to guide Jensen’s cock to his entrance.

“You sure?” Jensen bit his lip, removing his fingers and using them to slick up his cock best he could. Their combined pre-cum helped and he rubbed his head against Misha’s rim teasingly.

“Ackles, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m gonna…” Misha didn’t get to finish his sentence because Jensen was pushing in and his words died on his tongue.

“Shut. Up,” Jensen accentuated each word with a thrust and after a few more, he had finally bottomed out, his cock buried deep inside of Misha. “Fuck.” Jensen gulped, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling. “So tight.”

Misha clung to Jensen’s body, his fingernails leaving indentations in Jensen’s shoulder blades. “You’re gonna have to fuck me open.”

Jensen let out a low moan and proceeded to do just that. One of his hands was helping to steady Misha and his other was pushed against the wall to gain more leverage and he looked down between them, seeing Misha’s neglected cock bouncing between them. “Touch yourself,” he commanded. “I want you to make yourself come while I split you open on my cock.”

“Yes,” Misha sighed, happily complying. “Feels so good, Jensen.”

Jensen grunted, moving Misha’s position to try and find an even better angle. Misha helped by snaking his right leg further up on Jensen’s back. Remembering the yoga position, Jensen took a hold of it and tugged until Misha’s leg was bent straight up against his shoulder. They both groaned in unison when Jensen was able to slide even deeper and judging by the keens Misha let out, he’d also found a way to nail his prostate on each thrust.

“Take it,” Jensen panted, speeding up his thrusts. “Take it and come for me.”

Misha was unable to articulate a reply, all he muttered unintelligible syllables, but it didn’t take long until he flew apart, coming between them with a bitten off curse. The tight clench around Jensen’s cock triggered Jensen’s own orgasm and soon enough they were both shivering, Jensen still thrusting softly until they rode out their aftershocks.

“Well…” Misha panted, trying to extricate his leg. Jensen reluctantly slid out and helped him position both his legs back on solid ground. Misha laughed when Jensen had to still hold him up because his legs were too wobbly to support him. “Guess you better carry me to the bedroom.”

Jensen chuckled, but he could feel his own legs giving out on him just the same. “How about we crawl in there together?”

Misha snorted and leaned into him, slowly moving away from the wall. They made it all the way to Jensen’s couch before they collapsed on it. “So…” Misha tried to start a conversation after they’ve both caught their breaths. He was looking at Jensen expectantly.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Jensen smiled, nuzzling into Misha’s side. “My only regret is that we didn’t do this sooner.”

“Hey, if I’d known yoga would do it for you, I’d have rolled out my mat in front of you weeks ago,” Misha replied, petting Jensen’s hair. They both smiled at each other and Misha relaxed further into the couch. “As far as regrets go… Ask me again tomorrow about the no lube thing, maybe.”

Jensen flushed, a rush of guilt racing up his spine. “Hey, you begged me to…”

Misha hushed him with a finger on his lips. “Relax, Ackles. I’m a big boy. Though, apparently, not as big as you.”

Jensen smirked. “I’m gonna enjoy testing your bendiness to its limits.” He trailed his fingertips up and down Misha’s thigh.

Misha bit hip lip, a naughty spark forming in his eyes. “I have a few positions in mind already.” His eyes fell to Jensen’s cock. “Damn though. If I’d known you were packing that… I’m gonna have to much fun with you.”

Jensen wasn’t so sure if Misha was talking to him or his cock, but he laughed regardless. “Starting now, in my bedroom.” He’d regained enough strength to slap Misha’s thigh before pulling him up from the couch.

“Hey!” Misha protested, slapping Jensen’s ass in retaliation. It made Jensen turn, hand raised, but Misha danced out of the way. Jensen raced him to the bedroom before he finally caught up with him and was able to catch him and thrown him onto the bed. The both of them were laughing, fooling around in the sheets, before they were ready for round two.

But I Took It Anyway (J2, Jared/JDM, NC-17, AU)

2016-03-27T13:19:02Z

Title: But I Took It Anyway
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, JDM/Jared mentioned, AU
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: alpha/beta dynamics
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 2.500
Summary: Written for spn_masquerade and based on this prompt: As is tradition, Omega!Jared had to spend the entire night with Chief Alpha!JDM before he's allowed to mate with Alpha!Jensen. Jared comes home, bitten and marked up and smelling like sex, and Jensen's not sure whether to be turned on or pissed off.
Author's Note: I unconsciously made Jared a beta though, I hope nobody minds.

=> AO3 <=

Jensen paced his hut fretfully. The sun had risen 30 minutes ago. The night was up. Jared should have been returned to him already.

He’d barely gotten any sleep. The whole thing sucked. Prima Nocte was such an old fashioned tradition and he knew a few modern packs had abandoned it altogether. But Jeff was an old fashioned, traditionalist alpha. He’d never give up a perk like this.

The reasoning behind it was simple. Before any beta could mate with their chosen alpha, the chieftain had to claim them first. It was supposed to strengthen loyalty and benefit the pack in that there would never be an uprising from any young alpha thinking he was a better chieftain than the current leader. A secondary claim was never as strong as the first and any beta was bound to the chieftain first. If anything happened to him, the beta would suffer. And no alpha would willingly cause his beta harm. So no alpha would challenge the chieftain.

Of course, this meant Jensen had to give up his right to claim Jared properly. He had to stand by and watch as Jeff collected him for a night of primal mating. He had to let Jared go to be fucked by another man. It made Jensen’s skin crawl.

It didn’t help that the alpha in question was fucking Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who, as of yet was unmated to a true beta himself. Jensen would understand if Jared never came back to him, truly, he would. Before he’d popped his first knot aged sixteen, he’d had the biggest crush on Jeff. In his fantasies, Jensen would be the beta to turn the confirmed bachelor into a loyal mate. Of course, then he’d turned out an alpha himself; and then he met Jared. Still, sometimes he wondered…

There was a knock on his door and Jensen jumped. He opened quickly to reveal a debauched looking Jared and a grinning Jeffrey, who was holing Jared up with an arm wrapped around his waist, the other in the back of Jared’s neck.

“I’m here to return your beta to you, Jensen, and to congratulate you on your fine choice. He’s tight and eager to please.” Jeff’s grin widened and he thrust Jared forward like a rag doll.

Jensen caught him in gentle hands and glared at Jeff. “A true alpha wouldn’t need to rely on forced mates to keep his pack loyal.” He just couldn’t help it. He bared his teeth and growled, at the same time stroking a trembling Jared with gentle hands.

Jeffrey just laughed. Then he entered the hut and leaned in close to Jensen. “If I could, I’d have demanded you for a night as well. I still regret that I won’t get to claim you, Jen.”

Jensen shivered with arousal, but then his nostrils flared and he glared at the chieftain. “Get the fuck out of my home.” Jared smelled like sex. Like Jeff. He didn’t smell like his Jared anymore.

Jeff held up his hands and stepped back behind the threshold. But before he closed the door, he gave Jensen one last smirk. “You know, I would have returned him earlier, but Jared’s just so insatiable, I had to pry him off me forcefully. Good luck with him.” Jeff turned, but then quickly swivelled back. “If you need any help with training, or tips to keep him satisfied, you know where my hut is.”

With a last, feral growl, Jensen kicked the door shut. Then he turned to the still trembling beta in his arms. Jared looked wrecked. He was bruised and marked and just filthy. Jensen really hated Jeff right now. But part of him really wished he could have been present to watch his mate get fucked by the chieftain, because… God damn!

“’S not true,” Jared sniffed, burrowing deeper into Jensen’s arms.

“What is?” Jensen asked, hand stroking through Jared’s hair and coming away sticky. Was that semen? Jesus. He sniffed delicately and was hit with another spike of arousal. The air was heady with pheromones. Jeff’s and Jared’s and his own were joining in. He had a primal urge to reclaim his lover and make him his, only his. His arms around Jared tightened.

“I didn’t want to stay. I couldn’t wait to get back to you,” Jared murmured, clinging to Jensen.

Jensen swallowed hard. It’s what he wanted to hear, but he knew it wasn’t true. Jeff might be an asshole, but he wasn’t evil. He’d never prolong a claim with an unwilling beta. He couldn’t fault Jared for liking it, much as he wanted to. Then again, he didn’t want Jared to suffer. It was good that he’d had fun with Jeff. It would just be better if he’d had fun with Jeff and Jensen. At the same time. Maybe taking the both of them. He’d like that, eager slut that he obviously was.

The deep sounding growl started again and Jensen pushed Jared away. “Get cleaned up, you’re filthy.”

Jared whimpered, but he nodded, limping into the direction of the bathroom.

Jensen bit his lip, his heart breaking. “Wait…” he said, hesitantly. But after another second, he made up his mind and joined his mate to help him into the bathroom, to get undressed and then to step into the tub.

The whole time they both stayed silent. Jensen cataloguing all the bites and bruises and bodily fluids and Jared keeping his head down with a deep flush spreading from his face to his chest.

“Was it fun?” Jensen couldn’t help but ask. “Don’t lie to me,” he added.

“Yes,” Jared admitted meekly, licking his lips subconsciously.

Jensen roared, tugging Jared’s head back by his hair and baring his throat. The throat bearing the mark of another man. “You slut!” He buried his face into Jared’s neck, inhaling Jeff’s scent and then he just saw red. “You’re mine! Mine, mine, mine!” He bit down right on top of Jeff’s mark, worrying his teeth to open the wound and eradicate all trace of Jeff.

Jared whimpered at first, then he yelled out in pain. But his hand was fisted in Jensen’s hair, pushing him closer and keeping him there. “Jensen,” he breathed. “My Jensen. Yours.”

Jensen stepped into the tub, still keeping his teeth sealed to Jared’s neck. He started ripping off his clothes and Jared helped by unfastening his pants and pushing them down his hips. “Mine,” he growled again, licking over the now bleeding would. He could still taste Jeffrey though. And it still made him harder and he hated himself for it.

Jensen punched his fist into the wall, because he needed to punish someone and he couldn’t punish Jared. Not for this. With his knuckles bleeding, he finally calmed down enough to take a deep breath. Jared’s hands found his bruised one and stroked it gently, bringing it up to his lips and kissing Jensen’s ruined fingers. “Yours,” Jared whispered. “I’m so sorry, Jen.”

Jensen let out another shuddering breath, nipping at Jared’s throat again. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just us now. Just us.” Yet Jeff’s invitation was ringing in his ears, already buried in the deep recess of his mind. Maybe fucking it out would help.

He turned on the water, first directing the stream over Jared. His neck was still bleeding, turning the water red. Jensen felt bad. This was not how he’d imagined claiming his mate. He had to make up for it. Do it again properly when they were in the bedroom, lying there joined together, Jared tied to his knot.

He picked up the soap and started by washing Jared’s hair. The soap stung his knuckles, but he wouldn’t let Jared take over. This was his job and he deserved the pain. Jared kept whispering affirmations of his belonging to Jensen and only Jensen and it was a funny feeling hearing it while he was scrubbing someone else’s spunk off of his skin.

Running his hands over all the bruises and hearing Jared’s moans as he did so was working him back up again and soon Jensen gave up, pushing the soap into Jared’s hands after all. “You keep going,” he ordered. “Clean yourself up, you whore.”

Jared flinched and Jensen flinched, but… but… fucking dammit! “Ok, sir,” Jared offered as demurely as he could. It had the opposite effect he probably intended as it just made Jensen angrier. What was it Jeff had said? Eager to please? Had he called Jeff ‘sir’ as well?

Jensen turned him around forcefully and kicked Jared’s feet apart. “Just how fucked out are you?” He thrust two fingers into Jared’s ass, unsurprised when they slid in smoothly. There was still a tug to it though and he had to work up to adding a third. “Jeff’s right, you’re tight. My tight slut.” Jensen leaned into Jared, pushing him forward and forcing him to lean against the wall. “Was he bigger than me?” Jensen whispered. “Did you enjoy Jeffrey’s big, fat cock up your ass?”

Jared whined, but he turned around with a challenging look in his eyes. “What exactly do you want to hear?” he asked. “Do you want me to lie?”

Jensen’s eyes flashed happily. His old Jared seemed to be slowly coming back to him. The confident beta who’d challenge him on his bullshit. Jensen just wasn’t so sure if now was the right time for it though. He still needed to punish and reclaim and Jared was egging him on. “Greedy whore,” Jensen responded, accentuating his words by adding a fourth finger. “Got fucked all night long, yet you still want more, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jared confirmed. “You. I want you.” He thrust his hips, fucking himself on Jensen’s fingers. “I need you to fuck me with your huge cock, Jensen.” Jared gave him a sultry look through slanted eyes. “I need you to fuck all traces of Jeff out of me.”

This was exactly the right thing to say. Jensen removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock, sighing happily when he was finally joined to Jared again. It felt different this time and his eyes fell on Jared’s neck again. The bite. He’d already claimed, now he just needed to deepen the bond.

“Jensen,” Jared moaned, and he must have been feeling it, too. His right hand came up to tangle in Jensen’s hair and push him in towards his neck again. Jensen knew what he wanted, Jared’s need resonating within his own body. And while his hips were ruthlessly thrusting deep into Jared’s ass, he latched on to Jared’s throat again, biting down just as his knot popped.

Jensen was shocked by how quickly he’d knotted with his mate, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing about this was normal. Not last night, not this morning, not this. Yet it felt right. Claiming Jared felt right. He rutted into him in small increments until he finally tied off and there was no movement possible anymore. His orgasm started and he spurted into his mate, filling him up and washing all other traces away.

Jared’s scent changed and Jensen turned off the water so he could enjoy it more. Jared must have noticed it as well, because his head turned up and he sniffed audibly. “Yours,” he cried, tears streaming down Jared’s face. “Finally yours.”

Jensen let go of the bite and licked at the wound, surprised to find it salty. But then he realized he was crying as well. His anger had faded and he was filled only by happiness. He nuzzled the nape of Jared’s neck. “My beta. My perfect mate.”

Jared snorted. “Your perfect whore, you mean.”

Jensen chuckled, rubbing his cheeks. The tears had stopped and the moment was over, clearly. “You’re way too coherent for someone hanging off my knot. I must be doing something wrong.” His knot had started to shrink incrementally and he used the little leeway he had to start thrusting again. The fingers of his good hand snaked around Jared’s body to take a hold of his neglected cock and start stroking Jared off hard and fast.

Jared let out an unintelligible noise, head dropping forward. Jensen smiled and lapped at his wound again.

“That’s better,” Jensen concluded, timing his thrusts and twisting his wrist on the upstroke, just like Jared liked it. It didn’t take long for Jared to fly apart and afterwards, they were both panting and spent.

Jensen turned the water back on and gave them both a quick, perfunctory cleaning until his knot had shrunk enough to allow him to slip out. They both groaned at the loss, but Jared seized the opportunity to turn around and meet Jensen’s lips in a deep, searing kiss.

“So…” Jared asked when they parted again. “Is that it?”

Jensen raised his eyebrow. “What else do you want? Want me to send you back to Jeff for round two? ‘Cause that is not going to happen. Ever. Again.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I meant us.” Jared gestured. “Can I sleep now? Because I really want to just sleep for the next four days.”

Jensen felt his exhaustion radiate through their newly formed bond and he wrapped an arm around his mate’s waist to steady him and help him out of the tub. “You can go to bed, but don’t think we’re done just yet,” Jensen commented dryly. “We’re done when each of those bruises is covered by one of mine and there’s not a single trace of Jeff left on you.”

Jared moaned. “You fiend,” he accused, but he was smiling as he said it, cheeks flushed again. “Honestly though. Give me a few hours to nap.”

Jensen huffed, but he started drying Jared off and he’d help him into bed like a good alpha. And he’d let him sleep. “You mind if I start without you, then? I’ll nibble and bite my way up your body. You don’t need to be awake for that,” Jensen offered teasingly.

Jared let out an exaggerated long-suffering sigh. “By all means.” He opened up his arms wide, offering up his body.

Jensen laughed. “How’d I ever get so lucky?” He caught Jared in his arms and kissed him languidly.

“I honestly have no idea. It’s not like you’re the most handsome, caring alpha I have ever met,” Jared stroked Jensen’s cheek.

Jensen hummed happily and after another sweet kiss, he led his mate to the bedroom. “More handsome than Jeff though?” Jensen asked, because he couldn’t help himself. It still stung.

“Shut up and join me in our bed,” Jared commanded.

Jensen complied and spooned up behind Jared, pulling the blankets up around them before wrapping his arms around his mate. “I love you,” he whispered but Jared had already fallen asleep. Instead he tried to push the feeling at him through their bond and he could feel a glowing warmth resonate back. This was all he needed. And since Jensen had barely slept at all last night either, he quickly followed his mate into a deep, restful sleep.

Partners - Part Two

2016-02-08T20:07:46Z

<< Part One

Before they knew it, they had reached their destination. And closing the case with Castiel as a partner was easier than Dean expected. While Dean talked to suspects and eye witnesses in their living rooms, Cas found a way to sneak around their places by coming in through the pipes or by squeezing through open windows or air shafts.

It was during one of those visits when Cas discovered a twin of the person Dean was interviewing upstairs in the basement, already dead and having been fed on like the other victims. Deeply confused, Castiel disclosed his findings when they met back up in the Impala. Dean cursed. “Ghouls. Man, I hate those things.”

After explaining to Cas that they could take on the form of their latest victim and had to be killed by decapitation, Castiel understandably asked if everything could be killed by taking off their heads.

“Pretty much,” Dean shrugged, realizing that Cas’ abilities came in very handy at hunting indeed.

Now that they knew what they were dealing with, it didn’t take them long to kill the two ghouls haunting the town and then they were on their way back. Dean thankfully didn’t have any more tentacle-related dreams while Castiel shared his room, but he wouldn’t mind having another as soon as he was back between his own four walls.

However, once Dean put his bag down in his apartment much later and reached for his cellphone to get his long overdue call to Sam out of the way, he had barely pressed the button to connect to his brother when he was hit over the head with something heavy. He could hear Sam answer on the other end when he was hit again. And then there was nothing but blackness.

He came to shackled to a beam protruding from the ceiling in what definitely had to be a spaceship. There were a lot of gleaming, blinking appliances but, oddly-enough, also a large front window through which he could see fish swimming by.

A dark purple colored ningkiling came to hover in front of him. “Ah, good. The human is awake. Bring in Castiel.”

Before Dean could ask what was going on, Castiel was led into the room by two other squids. His tentacles were bound together and he seemed to have trouble staying in the air. In fact, when the two squid-goons left his side, he plunked down to the ground. “Cas? You okay?”

“Dean” Castiel looked up at him in distress. “Uriel, you bastard I didn’t tell him anything. Let him go!”

“Such language,” the dark squid tutted. “And to think you were once one of our most noble warriors. But you betray us, and for what? A lowly human?” Uriel’s voice boomed and he was looking at what Dean assumed was a camera. Was this broadcasted?

“Uriel, please. Have mercy,” Castiel pleased.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” Uriel continued. “Humans are worthless. They’re weak and break easily, as you shall soon see.” He send a scathing look in Castiel’s direction. “And defying orders will lead to swift retributions.”

Dean struggled in his bonds, trying to find a weak spot, but it seemed futile. “Cas didn’t tell me anything,” Dean said. “Just let him go.”

“Why does it speak? Who gave you permission?” Uriel tried to intimidate him.

Dean snorted. “Really?” He looked directly at the camera. “Castiel is innocent. I only found out you guys are aliens when this dude here,” he nodded at Uriel, “kidnapped me and brought me to your frigging spaceship.”

“I do not believe you. Castiel is weak. He has gotten attached.” Uriel hovered close to Castiel, looking down at him. “And I warned you. Yet you continued to disclose our secrets. Did you know he reports everything back to his superior right away? It seems he has a higher work ethic than you. He reports quite frequently.”

Castiel looked betrayed and Dean quickly shook his head. “He means my brother. And I didn’t tell him much. I never even told him about the stake.” Dean felt like mentioning he also withheld his alien suspicions might not be a good idea at this point.

“I believe you, Dean.” Castiel gave him a brave smile.

“I do not. Nor do I care,” Uriel cut in again. “Dean Winchester needs to die and you shall watch. And then we will see how else to punish you.”

Castiel sagged in his bonds and Dean still failed to find a weak spot in his own shackles. This was not looking good for him. “Alright, fine. Just kill me but let him go. Castiel doesn’t deserve this. You had him stay all alone in the sewers, for fuck’s sake. Just let him go back to his family.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and a whole bunch of ningkilings entered the room. “That’s quite enough,” one of them announced. Her color was more in the reddish spectrum and Dean just assumed it was a female ningkiling. But he wasn’t quite sure.

“Anna,” Castiel breathed, confirming his suspicions.

Anna had an air of authority around her, more so than Uriel, who had just been a menacing dick. “Uriel. Who gave you the right for this spectacle? Did you think I would not intervene? Or did you hope I was still out on my own mission?” Her eyes narrowed and Uriel flinched visibly.

“My lady, I was only doing what I felt best. This human is…” Uriel tried to explain.

“This human is obviously loyal to Castiel and he might become a trusted ally in our first step at cohabiting this planet,” Anna explained. She nodded towards some of the ningkilings that had entered with her and they started working on freeing Dean immediately. “That is, if he still trusts us now after what you have done.” She glared at Uriel. “Shackle him, free Castiel,” she ordered.

As soon as Dean was free and back on his feet, Anna hovered close to him. “Thank you,” he said, rubbing his sore wrists.

Anna nodded. “I hope you can accept my sincerest apologies, Mr. Winchester.”

“Dean,” he offered. “What will happen to Cas?”

Anna smiled at his use of a nickname. “Castiel will be allowed to return to work with you, if he so chooses. If that’s what you were asking?”

Dean nodded. “He will not be punished?”

“Of course not.” Anna looked over her shoulder to check on the squid in question and as soon as Cas was free, he joined them.

“Anna,” Castiel greeted, touching the tips of his front tentacles to the tips of hers. “I am happy to see you.”

“Likewise,” Anna replied. “Though I wish it were under different circumstances. Uriel did not have my permission for this. In fact, I was away on my own mission to find out more about humans. I didn’t trust the reports. With good reason, it turns out.”

“Cohabitation?” Castiel asked hopefully.

“It’s a hope I have,” Anna replied. “And from what I have seen in recent days, humanity is not as rotten and hostile as we were led to believe.” Her attention focused on Dean again.

Dean scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, listen, I think you should talk to my brother and we’ll see what we can figure out.” He wasn’t so sure what this cohabitation would entail but he was fully aware that humans would freak if ningkilings just suddenly appeared on the street.

“I’d like that,” Anna nodded.

“But for now, am I allowed to go home?” Dean inquired. He felt tired and his head hurt something fierce. And as much as he loved sci-fi, this spaceship started to give him the heebie-jeebies. He’d rather not risk having more of Uriel’s kind bursting in and killing him after all.

“Of course,” Anna reassured him. “Castiel will take you.” She looked at Castiel in question.

“I’d like that,” Castiel confirmed. “But, Anna… How much am I allowed to disclose?”

Anna hesitated, looking at Dean again. “You may tell him the full extent of your powers. He’s bound to find out sooner or later.”

Castiel bowed in reply and then he led Dean out of the room. Uriel was still being restrained, spewing hate as they passed him. They both ignored him.

To Dean’s delight, he was brought to a smaller spaceship, which thankfully had enough room for him to fit in. It must have been how he was brought in, but he’d been unconscious for the ride. Castiel started it up and Dean looked on in awe as they were shot out of the mothership and through the ocean, flying smoothly once they were up in the air.

“How come nobody has reported sighting of a flying spaceship recently?” Dean marvelled.

“We have a cloaking device,” Castiel explained.

“Of course you do.” Dean chuckled. Every decent spaceship needed one of those. He suddenly realized that Castiel’s biggest secret was out and Dean would be allowed to ask questions and receive answers. This was going to be so awesome! “Hey, Cas?” Dean started. “What other powers do you have?”

Castiel looked up from piloting the ship. “You know that magazine you read? With the picture?”

“Don’t tell me that was real” Dean exclaimed.

“Uhm, well, not precisely,” Castiel hedged. “Some of us can grow though, to about your height. For a brief time.”

“How brief is brief?” Dean was beginning to squirm. Next thing Cas was telling him they could also enter dreams. He was so fucked.

“Couple days,” Castiel replied. “It depends on how strong one is.”

“A couple of days?” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. So much sex they could be having. Already he was planning a long overdue vacation. Somewhere secluded. Maybe Bobby’s cabin in the woods.

“And I am very strong,” Castiel continued proudly. “I am part of the royal warrior caste.”

Dean bit his lip, wondering if Cas had any idea what he was doing to him right now. He leaned closer, reaching out to stroke one of Castiel’s tentacles.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Castiel looked at his fingers but he didn’t pull away.

“Hey, you don’t also happen to produce some kind of lubricant, do you?” Dean mused.

“What?” Castiel was utterly confused by now. “Maybe we should get you medical attention.”

“I’m fine,” Dean protested. But now that he was thinking about it, he did feel rather fuzzy and kind of high. He thought it was just the elation at being rescued but… Before he could finish his thought, he passed out.

***

Dean came to in the break room at the offices and the first thing he saw was Henriksen. He groaned, hands flying to his pounding head, trying to hold it together.

“You got a nice concussion there, Winchester,” Henriksen explained. “But with a thick skull like yours, you should be fine in a couple of days.”

Dean closed his eyes, trying to piece together what happened. He remembered Castiel and a spaceship and tentacles and it all seemed so crazy, for a second there he wondered if he’d dreamed it all up. But before he could be too disappointed, he heard Castiel’s voice.

“I am happy you are awake again, Dean.” Castiel hovered close. “I was scared.”

“Alright,” Henriksen got up. “Now that your partner’s here to take care of you, I’ll go back to my actual job. I expect a full report on my desk by Monday.”

Dean and Castiel both groaned in unison and it made Dean smile. “So, you’re staying? With the bureau?”

“Of course,” Castiel confirmed. “You’re my partner, Dean.”

“Of course.” Dean closed his eyes. “You know what, Cas? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Beginning?” Castiel frowned. “But I thought we were already…”

Dean’s laughter cut him off. “It’s a quote, Cas. Don’t worry. We’ll find you a new pad with a TV and then I’ll start a list with all of the instructional videos you still need to see.” He closed his eyes again, satisfied for the moment. He had really lucked out with his royal warrior partner, and Dean couldn’t wait to gloat about it later. But for now, all he wanted to do was sleep. He knew he was safe with Cas watching over him.

Partners (Destiel, AU, NC-17)

2016-02-08T20:04:18Z

Title: Partners
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: tentacle porn
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 12.300
Summary: Dean is working for a special unit of the FBI, in which hunters fight alongside rehabilitated monsters. When it's time for his own partner, Dean is shocked to be paired up with Castiel, a member of a tiny squid species Dean has never even heard of before.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on lucyannethropy’s art prompt located HERE. Thanks for the fun collaboration! A lot of what makes Cas Cas were her ideas, right down to the name of his species.
Thanks to the awesome sleepingspero9 for beta-reading.

=> AO3 <=

“Dean! Hey!” Mindy smiled at him brightly. “The usual?”

“You know it, Mindy.” Dean lowered his shades as he approached the newsstand and smiled back just as brightly.

Mindy handed over a copy of the Weekly World News and turned to pour him a coffee. “You know, I can’t believe you still read this crap,” she chastised him.

Dean smirked and pointed at this week’s headline, which read ‘Attack of the OctoMen’. “You won’t be laughing when the OctoMen kill you and you haven’t read the survival guide.” He winked.

Mindy laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder before handing him his coffee. “Oh, you.” She reached for the donut display and packed up a powdered sugar one. “Here. I’ll start by fattening you up so they’ll eat you first.”

Dean patted his stomach and pouted. “You think I’m getting fat?”

Mindy rolled her eyes. “It’s beyond me how you have a boring office job and still look so fit. And you know it, so don’t go fishing for compliments, mister.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, but his eyes were twinkling with mirth. He paid her for the magazine and the coffee and accepted his free donut. “Thanks, babe.”

“Uhuh.” Mindy leaned forward, accentuating her cleavage. “You know, I’ve missed you these past few days.”

“Big audit at a branch in South Dakota,” Dean lied. “And speaking of, I’ve gotta get going. Type up my report and all. See you around.” With a wave, he turned towards the Credit Dauphine office building across the street where, for all Mindy knew, he was working as a data analyst.

Truth be told, he did have a report to type up. But instead of some boring audit, he’d cleared out a vampire nest his uncle Bobby had tipped him off about. And Dean still needed to find a way to keep Bobby out of the report.

Back when Henriksen started a special unit of the FBI dedicated to fighting the supernatural, he’d recruited as many hunters as he could find. Hunters who were still mentally acceptable to the FBI and hadn’t gone off the deep end, that was. Not that Bobby would have been rejected; he just didn’t trust Henriksen and wouldn’t even apply. Nevertheless, he’d encouraged Sam and Dean to take a chance – provided they’d still keep in touch with him and update him on the goings-on at the agency. In return, Bobby still helped them out on jobs and provided valuable intel the FBI didn’t have.

However, since Sam had stepped out of the field to become head analyst, it was rare for Bobby to know anything Sam hadn’t heard of already. And, thorough as Sam was, in two years he had created a vast virtual bestiary, making Bobby almost obsolete. And Dean was proud of his little nerd of a brother. Still. Dean missed the old days sometimes, which is why he’d gone to help out with Bobby’s nest.

Once inside the building, Dean took the elevator to the lower deck, which proclaimed to be the parking deck, even though there was no entry for cars coming off the street. A fact Dean still mourned over, since he had to park his beloved Impala out in the open and out of sight down the street. The door to the empty parking lot opened after a hidden compartment confirmed his handprint and Dean fought with his coffee and donut in one hand to fumble out his badge with the other.

Just when he’d snatched his bag up with his teeth, a helping hand came from Benny, who had appeared from the other direction. The back of the building held a biker bar to allow the shadier looking agents entry without arousing suspicion. “Benny you’re a lifesaver,” Dean followed the vampire to the elevator that would lead up to his actual office. “You working the day shift?”

Benny nodded the affirmative and looked into Dean’s bag, which he’d snatched earlier. “Brother, those will be the death of you someday.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. High cholesterol is definitely gonna put me in an early grave.” He frowned a little though. This was the second person to comment on his donut intake today. Maybe he should lay off them for a while.

Benny grinned and clapped his shoulder. “So, I hear you’re getting partnered up today.”

Dean stopped. “I am?” He’d been waiting for this since he started in the new division Henriksen had started up six months ago. It was an experiment. Seasoned agents would work closely together with supes who’d proven themselves helpful and on the side of peace with the humans. Dean had been skeptical at first, but he’d gone on a few missions with Benny and the vampire had turned into a loyal friend.

His father would turn in his grave if he knew, but this wasn’t John’s world anymore. Actually, it might have never been as black and white as John liked to paint it when they were growing up. Dean realized this more and more, the more cases he actually researched instead of just going in and killing the monster, like he used to.

“Oh yeah,” Benny drawled, smirking at Dean. “They picked out someone real special for you.”

“You know who it is?” Dean asked. He knew it couldn’t be Benny, since he was already assigned to Jodie. And Jodie would never willingly switch.

Benny’s smirk widened. “Someone real special.”

Dean frowned, a little suspicious. But before he could dig further, they’d arrived on their floor, and Benny left him with a wink.

Dean had just dumped his things on his desk, when Henriksen’s door opened and he bellowed for “Winchester”

Everyone’s head snapped in Dean’s direction and he could see more than a few grins thrown his way. In response, Dean adopted his most cocky look and, head held high, he swaggered into the office as if he’d just won the lottery and was going to collect his cheque. And really, how bad could it be? He’d finally get his own supernatural partner. He’d waited six months for this.

Dean entered the office and looked around expectantly. “Sir?” he questioned.

“Sit down, Winchester,” Henriksen ordered.

Dean sat down in a chair and Henriksen perched on the edge of his desk, towering over Dean. Dean considered commenting on this blatant display of dominance, but he was trying to be a good agent now. He wasn’t a free-lance hunter anymore. And he didn’t really miss the hustling and leaving hospitals early before their insurance fraud could be detected. And without Sam, he’d be fucked if he actually got hurt.

“I know you’ve been getting impatient to get your partner,” Henriksen started, holding up his hand when Dean was about to protest. “It’s the whole reason I set this all up, after all.” He waved around, indicating the clandestine office space. Not a lot of agents knew about this, not even all of the previous hunters. “It’s why I got you here, specifically.”

Dean smiled. He’d been one of the only agents not required to apply. He was just re-assigned.

“And I’m confident I finally found the right partner for you,” Henriksen continued. “Dean, meet Castiel.”

Dean frowned, extremely confused. There was nobody else in the office with them. Unless they were talking about a ghost… holy shit! Dean’s face lit up. “You’re partnering me up with a ghost?” This was awesome; Dean knew how powerful ghosts could be.

“Uhm, no…” Henriksen frowned, his hand pointing towards the mug on his desk. And when Dean’s gaze followed, his eyes landed on a tiny… a tiny… thing.

A tiny thing that was clearing its throat, looking awkward. “Uhm, hello?” It said and Dean’s eyes widened. It looked like a mix between a merman and a squid and it wasn’t much larger than the mug on Henriksen’s table.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dean muttered, passing his hand over his eyes. He was seeing things, wasn’t he? “What the fuck even is that?”

Henriksen shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Uhm, that’s your new partner, Dean. That’s Castiel. He’s a ningkiling.”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed a few times, all the while Castiel was blinking owlishly at him. His eyes were blue, reminding Dean of an ocean - which might just be where Castiel actually came from. Dean had to laugh at that. “How in the world did that even get in here without anyone seeing it?”

“I travel through the sewage system,” Castiel explained in a deep, gravely voice. Dean was taken aback. He’d expected a high pitched squeak. This was deeply unsettling.

“Like a rat?” Dean asked. He gave a short bout of laughter again, then he glared at Henriksen. “You’re pairing me up with a sewer rat?”

“That’s quite enough now,” Henriksen warned. “You will apologize to your partner.”

“The fuck I will,” Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest. He hadn’t signed up for this. What powers could this tiny ting possibly possess? Now he understood why he’d been the butt of the joke this morning. He could just picture all of his colleagues laughing their asses off right now. Maybe this was a prank?

“Agent Winchester. You will apologize for calling Castiel a rat or you can just leave your badge and gun and get the fuck out of my office.” Henriksen had gotten up and walked behind his desk, standing firm.

“But why?” Castiel threw in. “Rats are highly intelligent beings. I did not take offence to the comparison. In fact, rats are highly adaptable and they have an enormous learning curve. One might argue that rats are more intelligent than humans, actually.”

Dean, who had been happily pointing at Castiel in full agreement when he’d started his speech, stopped short, eyes narrowing. “Are you saying I’m dumber than a rat?”

“I’m saying I did not take offence to being compared to such an intelligent creature.” Castiel was glaring right back at him. “I do, however, take offence at being referred to as an object. I am not an ‘it’, Dean, I am a fully sentient being.”

“That remains to be seen,” Dean mumbled under his breath, but then he wisened up. “Alright. I am sorry.” He took a long, hard look at Castiel again, noticing his purple tentacles and his gills and… were those wings on his back? “What powers does he have?” He looked at Henriksen.

“You may address me directly, Dean,” Castiel replied sourly, but then didn’t elaborate.

After another look at his boss, Dean sighed and leaned forward to be at an eye level with the tiny octopus. He’d already forgotten the name of his species. It ended in ‘killing’ though, which was just all kinds of ironic. The little thing surely couldn’t harm a grown man. Which, dammit, why did Dean get the useless partner? “What powers do you have?”

Castiel glanced at Henriksen and then back at Dean. “I’d rather not disclose the full extent of my powers just yet.”

Dean’s mouth fell open and this time, when he threw Henriksen an exasperated look, his boss had the decency to look guilty. “Castiel came to us, offering his help. He’s from an ancient species on the verge of extinction. They’re being hunted by other supernatural beings, so they’ve been in hiding.”

“But I have never heard of… of killing octupi before. They must have been mentioned somewhere?” Dean cocked his head. Even if they were the special snack of sirens. Or mermaids’ pets. The library at their disposal included books written by monsters. Someone must have included them.

“Ningkiling,” Castiel hissed through gritted teeth. “We erased every mention of us.” Turning his back on Dean, he faced Henriksen. “We were told you could help protect our species and I was fully willing to comply with the stipulations and partner up” – Castiel used air quotes for the word – “With your agent. Clearly this is not working out. If I am not appreciated, I shall take my leave and apply my help elsewhere.”

“No, no, no, Castiel,” Henriksen sent Dean a panicked look. “Please stay. Dean is just having a bad day. He just came back from a solo mission… And by the way,” Henriksen focused on Dean, his voice dropping to ice, “You still owe me a report on your unsanctioned operation.”

Dean gulped. “You’ll have it on your desk by five,” Dean reassured him. “Sir,” he added.

Henriksen nodded. “Castiel has passed all the tests to get into this program,” he explained to Dean. “And Dean is my best agent,” he placated Castiel. “I am sure you two will achieve great things together.”

Castiel huffed, but turned back to face Dean. “The best?” he asked.

Dean nodded with a smile. “The best.” So Castiel had passed all the tests? That meant he had gone on a mission with other agents and killed at least one supernatural being as well as proven vast knowledge on the topic. Dean sighed. Alright. Maybe he was doing him injustice. After all, size didn’t really matter. Fairies were nasty little shits. Then again, a fairy couldn’t help him kill a nest of vampires. “Alright,” Dean announced. “You can watch me type up my report.” He got up to leave the office, the matter over for now.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Castiel replied indignantly. “I’ll be at the archives, looking for a case.”

Dean’s face fell. “Alright,” he agreed sourly. Henriksen hadn’t intervened yet, so whatever. He didn’t need a squid to look over his shoulder as he was faking a report anyway. “Come find me when you’re done.” Dean got up and left the office before he would hurl some more insults at the octo-dwarf. His new partner.

Taking a deep breath, Dean steeled himself for his fellow agents and left the office with a shiny, happy smile, ignoring the whispers and various degrees of dolphin noises thrown his way.

***

Later, on his lunch break, he called his brother.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to call me,” was how Sam greeted him.

“Hello to you, too, Sammy.” Dean rolled his eyes. “And we spoke yesterday.” When he’d updated him how Bobby was doing.

“Yeah, but you met Castiel this morning, didn’t you?” Sam sounded smug.

“You knew?” Dean asked, kind of already knowing the answer.

“I’m level six,” Sam offered as way of explanation.

Dean rolled his eyes again. Ever since they’d started advancing in their clearance levels, Sam never failed to one-up him. As if shit like that ever mattered. “Wait. Don’t tell me you already knew about this when I called you last night?”

Sam’s silence told him all he needed to know. “Dean…” his brother started.

“I swear to god, if you say you couldn’t tell me because I don’t have level six clearance, I will come over to D.C. just so I can kick your giant ass,” Dean growled into the phone.

Sam huffed. “Listen. I need you to take this seriously. I recommended you for this partnership.”

“Come again?” Dean scowled. So it was thanks to Sam that he got stuck with the tiny squid?

“Is he with you?” Sam asked in a low voice.

“Who?” Dean frowned. “Sashimi?”

“I thought they partnered you with Cas…” Sam stopped, apparently getting the joke. “Hilarious, Dean,” he remarked dryly.

Dean chuckled at his own joke. “No, I’m alone.”

“I don’t trust them,” Sam remarked. “Those ningkiling, they just crawled out of the woodwork. How come no one’s ever heard of them before? I even had Bobby send out his feelers and he came up empty. Bobby, Dean.”

“I didn’t know you called him.” He’d have been the next person on Dean’s list. He wondered why Bobby didn’t mention anything when Dean was just with him.

“You’re not the only one who gets to tap that resource,” Sam said.

Dean frowned at the harsh wording. He knew Sam didn’t mean anything by it, but Bobby had practically raised them. He was more than a resource. “I didn’t see you helping with the nest last week.”

“You know why I stopped hunting, Dean,” Sam replied sourly. “Especially vampires.”

Dean held the phone away from his ear for a second and passed his hand over his face, taking a deep breath. “Never mind.” It was all the apology he could give, but he knew Sam would understand. “So the killers. You think they mean business?”

”Ningkiling,” Sam sighed. “I don’t want to assume. I hope they’re telling us the truth, but it just doesn’t make sense. They claim they want to help us fight monsters, but if they’re so good at that, then why are they going extinct? And why risk adding us on their list of possible murderers? I mean, they know we’re basically still hunters, even if we claim legality now.”

Dean bit his lip. Sam had basically voiced his own concerns and that was a bad sign. He’d just wanted to complain a bit and hear that Sam was on board, but this phone call was worrying. “What do you need me to do?”

“Pay attention. Write down their strengths and weaknesses and report to me as well as Henriksen,” Sam instructed. “Don’t keep too many official records. Not that this would be a problem for you.”

“So you’re giving me orders now and insulting my work ethics? How very level six of you,” Dean grumbled, but he wasn’t mad. Even though he was the older brother, he was pretty much used to Sam commanding him around.

Sam sighed. “Please, Dean.”

“Of course.” Dean closed his eyes and scratched the back of his neck. He could feel the muscles tensing up already.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Sam added in a soft voice.

“Always,” Dean replied cheerily, just like he did every time someone gave him that bullshit advice.

“I mean it, Dean,” Sam stressed. “We don’t know their agenda yet. For all we know they’re out to measure our weaknesses so they can kill us.”

“So we will measure their weaknesses and kill them first?” Dean started to get really sick of this crap. Sure, he hadn’t asked to be partnered up with an octopus, but Castiel was kind of cute. What if they were friendly creatures and Dean screwed it all up by being a suspicious ass and reporting the wrong information?

“Just take notes. Leave no traces. Be… friendly to Castiel. Don’t let him know we’re on to them.” Sam answered as if he was sure of the mission’s outcome already. And Dean had to admit, with their track record and Winchester luck, he was probably right to be wary.

“I’m always friendly,” Dean assured him, slipping back into his cocky, carefree persona.

Sam snorted. “I guess I don’t have to warn you not to be too friendly seeing as we’re talking about tiny octopus creatures here,” he said with a laugh.

Dean narrowed his eyes. Time to end this call before he said something he’d regret later. He knew Sam didn’t mean to offend him. He knew that. Still. “Alright, gotta go. I’ll update you later, Agent Winchester, Level Six.”

“By…” Dean ended the call before Sam could finish his goodbyes.

***

Dean ended his day with a beer at ‘Gates to Hell’, the bar at the back of the building. They always had some of the scarier looking agents hanging around outside to keep any random passers-by from entering. This usually made it a relaxing place for Dean to unwind. However, today his fellow agents kept looking over at him, sniggering.

At least Benny and Jodie shared a beer with him, trying to cheer him up. But seeing how disgustingly well they got along didn’t really help him at all. He wanted that. He missed having a partner he could rely on completely, someone who knew him inside out. He missed hunting with Sam.

He sighed and ordered another shot of bourbon, deciding this would be his last before heading in for the day. But before he could down his shot, his new partner joined him at the bar. Or rather, he flew in and landed on the wood in front of him.

Castiel peered into Dean’s glass and took a sniff, face distorting in disgust.

“Cas,” Dean greeted the odd creature cheerily. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Castiel paused, looking at him oddly. And Dean wondered what he did wrong now. “A glass of water?” Castiel asked eventually.

Dean snorted. “Sure. Do you want to drink it or take a dip in it?” He motioned for the barkeeper though.

“Nevermind.” Castiel huffed. “You should not be intoxicating yourself.”

“And why’s that?” Dean asked, purposefully downing his bourbon and ordering another, thinking, if the squid wanted water, he could order it himself.

“I found us a job. Vampire nest just out of town,” Castiel declared.

Dean groaned. Damn vampires. Ever since some son of a bitch decided to repopulate the species by going from town to town and biting members of large families or tight-knit communities, thinking they’d surely turn all their friends, they had to extinguish more nests than ever. He missed the days when he thought them just a myth.

On the positive side, all the out of control baby vampires scored them the help of some traditionalists who didn’t want their species becoming exposed. “How many?”

“Four,” Castiel replied.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should bring back-up?” Dean had just dealt with a nest and he was still feeling sore. And he failed to grasp how the tiny sea creature could help him.

Castiel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I was told you were a formidable hunter. Was I misinformed?”

Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh, I’m good.” He wondered if Henriksen pitched him to Castiel, if there’d been other choices. And if he could quote that in his next performance review. And fuck performance reviews. When did this become his life? He twirled his glass around.

Castiel hopped up on the rim of Dean’s glass to stop the movement. “It’s settled then.” His tentacles touched Dean’s fingers and Dean marvelled at how smooth they felt. But before he could discern the texture, Castiel had let go and hopped back onto the bar.

“Guess it is,” Dean shrugged. He looked at the remaining liquid in his glass but didn’t feel like drinking it anymore. He really should head home, especially if they were to hunt tomorrow. “I gotta hit the can,” he announced, getting up and making his way to the restrooms.

Castiel followed him, fly-hovering close to his face. His wings were fascinating. He wasn’t so much flapping them like a bird, but he was somehow gliding through the air, like he was swimming. Dean was reminded of a betta fish Sammy had won at a carnival once. Their father had flushed it down the toilet the next day and Dean had to convince a crying Sam that it was now fighting alligators in the sewers, since bettas were great warrior fish.

Castiel was not a fish though, nor were they under water. Dean wondered how this even worked, with the density and all. How much did Castiel weigh? He was tempted to reach out and touch, but Castiel must have sensed it, because he suddenly put more distance between them.

With an eye roll, Dean opened the door, Castiel still on his heels. He suddenly wondered why the squid was following him anyway and chose a stall instead of the more public urinals. However, just as he was about to pee, Castiel joined him by squeezing in from under the stall. Dean startled, almost missing his target. “Jesus fuck, Cas” he bellowed. “A little privacy here?”

But Castiel seemed unperturbed. On the contrary, he was flying closer to Dean’s privates. “I don’t understand,” he remarked. “Why is it so small? How are you able to procreate?”

Dean sputtered. “Did you just insult my dick?”

“How do you interlock tentacles?” Castiel asked, reaching out with his tentacles to touch Dean’s cock. “Does it elongate further?”

Dean made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a groan. But just as his dick showed interest in the silky-smooth feel of Castiel’s tentacles, something came out of Castiel’s forehead. Something like… a third eye? And it effectively killed Dean’s emerging boner. He whipped his dick away quickly.

Castiel looked up at him with somewhat of a pout, the odd eye retracting again. “What?” Castiel seemed confused.

Dean took a deep breath. “Ok, I’, gonna give you the benefit of being a freak species here.” He quickly tucked his dick away, the urge to pee vanished. “You do not touch a man’s dick.” Unless he asked you to, but that was besides the point here.

“Dick?” Castiel frowned. “Is that what your tentacle is called?”

“I see you’re a quick study.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. “I’ll also have you know that I am in no way small. But also, yes, it does… elongate further.” Castiel seemed happy with that knowledge and Dean remembered the part about interlocking tentacles. “But also, uh…” Dean continued. “I think we have different means of procreation. Like…” he stopped. “Why am I telling you this? Jesus.” Dean shook his head. “Go watch some porn.”

Castiel cocked his head, but then he nodded slowly. “Porn. Yes, ok.”

Dean narrowed his eyes but refused to acknowledge Castiel’s clear need for more education on the matter. This was… Yeah. He really needed to get home and drink some more. He left the stall and washed his hands, Castiel still hovering around awkwardly. “Yes?” Dean asked.

“Would you mind pulling up the plug?” Castiel requested.

“The plug?” Dean frowned, but then he remembered the way Castiel supposedly travelled - and the other options open to him in this restroom. One look at the urinal and Dean shuddered. “Alright.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied happily when Dean had freed his exit. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Uhuh,” Dean watched dumbfounded as Castiel squeezed himself through the sink and vanished with a plop. He bent over and peered down the hole, not seeing anything but darkness. After a minute of staring, he felt really stupid and, leaving the plug on the side of the sink in case Castiel wanted to come back, he finally left the bar.

***

That night, Dean had very vivid dreams about Castiel wrapping his silky tentacles around his cock, moving up and down to watch it grow and then putting him in a delicious squeeze while he kept gliding up and down Dean’s hard length with a fascinated expression on his face.

Dean woke up hard and aching and he only had enough brain cells left to go jerk off in the shower and not make a mess of his sheets. He came with Cas’ name on his lips and after, while he panted and let the water pound over his back, he suddenly got weirdly paranoid about the squid having come through his pipes and watched the show.

He laughed at his silliness, but nevertheless finished quickly and got dressed faster than usual.

They hadn’t specified a meeting place for the day, so Dean went to the office as usual, which sadly meant he had to dress up in the suit. Once he arrived, Henriksen handed him a watercooler with a sulking Castiel inside. Dean held his laughter until after the lid was closed, but he felt a little bad for the poor guy. Then again, not like he could just freely float around outside and be seen by people.

Dean kept the cooler closed and only opened it once he had the Impala on the open road. Castiel jumped out of it immediately, zig-zagging around the car before settling on the dashboard still visibly shaking.

“Not a fan of closed spaces, huh?” Dean could relate.

Castiel shook himself and then jumped when a truck passed by them on the other side of the road. He quickly fled into the cooler again. “Don’t close the lid, please?”

Dean peered into it, hit by a pang of regret for not opening it sooner. “Don’t worry. It’s gonna stay open. I need my partner to help me with the nest.” Dean gave him a reassuring smile, happy when Cas beamed in return. Dean still wasn’t so sure just how Castiel was going to help though, small as he was. “You sure it’s only four vamps in there?”

“I watched the surveillance footage over a period of two weeks. There’s only ever four guys going in and out of the house,” Castiel explained.

Dean nodded. This was one of the main perks of his job with the FBI versus his old hunting days – pay and health care excluded, of course. They could just tap into all kinds of surveillance devices and rarely entered a situation blindly anymore. Of course shit could still go wrong and it often did, but the FBI had resources.

Another truck passed by, honking his horn. Probably a fan of the car. Dean was used to that and it always made him smile proudly and pat the dashboard. This time though, the honk was accompanied by a loud crash from inside the box. When Dean checked up on his partner, Castiel was huddled in the corner. “You don’t get out much, do you?” Dean asked.

“It’s imperative for our survival to not be seen,” Castiel hedged.

Dean was tempted to tell him his odds were a lot better if he knew just what to be afraid of and what not, but here they were, on their way to kill a nest of vampires, and Dean hoped to god that Castiel was just still traumatized from the cooler.

***

It didn’t take long until they reached the ramshackle building the vampires had built their nest in and Dean was surprised why nobody had taken them out before, seeing how close it was to their main office. Then again, maybe this was the easy test assignment. Dean would be offended, but he knew it was a test for Castiel and not himself.

He parked the Impala at a distance and opened the trunk to get out his machete. “You need anything, Cas?”

“No, I’m good.” Castiel replied confidently, leading the way to the building.

Dean shrugged and pushed an extra knife into his boots. Alright then, four vamps he could kill on his own if push came to shove. He was curious to see how the squid would fare.

After Dean kicked open the door, they attacked. The vampires were still sleeping and Dean beheaded the first one before they even knew what was happening. The second followed soon after and Dean turned around, looking to see how Castiel was doing.

Castiel, it turned out, was wielding a self-made stake from a broken chair and as Dean watched, he pushed it through the vampires heart. The vampire looked down in confusion, before he pulled the stake right out and grabbed for Castiel with a laugh on his face.

“Take off his head,” Dean yelled. “The head!” He just had time to block off the fourth guy coming at him when Castiel transformed. Castiel let a feral growl, his jaw widening, sharp teeth coming out and before the vampire had a chance to react, Castiel was on him like a piranha, biting off the vampire’s head in a quick succession of jabbing movements.

“Oh jeeze,” Dean winced, realizing his opponent was watching the same scene with an equal expression of shock on his face. It made Dean grin smugly instead. “That’s my partner,” he announced just before he brought down the machete, beheading the final vampire.

Dean turned, smiling brightly at Castiel, who just came up from the body of the vamp now lying on the floor. Castiel was covered in blood and his eyes were gleaming red and yellow instead of their usual blue. But before Dean could congratulate him on a job well done, Castiel was suddenly flying at him, still looking murderous.

“Cas?” Dean asked, flinching away. But Castiel went straight past him, attacking a female vampire that had just sneaked up behind Dean, ready to bite. Dean watched up close how the ningkiling bit off enough chunks of the vampire’s throat until he could detach the head, and it was truly impressive. He did live up to his killer name after all.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel wondered aloud after he’d come up again. “I watched all the tapes. There were only four of them.”

Dean shrugged. “It happens. She’s possibly recently turned and they kept her locked in here as a blood bag.”

“Blood bag?” Castiel asked, his head cocked. But then he nodded. “Oh.”

“Thank you,” Dean nodded at his partner.

“But I put you in danger. I had the wrong information.” Castiel sounded distressed.

“I didn’t die, that’s what counts.” Dean smirked, then mentally assessed his body. “Hell, I barely even got hurt. This was a very successful hunt.” He smiled when Castiel’s face lit up a little. “We need to talk about that stake though,” he added.

Castiel licked his lips, his piranha teeth slowly retracting. “I don’t understand. I watched the instructional videos. And it’s what Agent Summers used.”

“Agent Summers?” Dean frowned. Instructional videos?

Castiel nodded. “Yes. I wanted to be partnered up with her, but Special Agent Henriksen just laughed at me. I guess she’s heading her own division?”

“Wait,” Dean held up his hand, his lips twitching. “Buffy Summers?”

Castiel nodded vigorously, smiling brightly. “Yes. You know her?”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh, then he realized that Castiel was his partner now and he sobered up quickly. “Jesus fuck, Cas That’s a TV show. You realize that, right?” Though, apparently, he didn’t?

“TV show?” Castiel asked with a frown.

“It’s made up. It’s not reality. It’s definitely not a manual for anything we do.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face. “How did you even pass the test?”

“I, uh, I also read a lot?” he offered, clearly embarrassed. “Please don’t tell.”

Dean looked at the small creature, still covered in blood from where he’d just bit off two vampires’ heads. And he sighed. “New rules. Before we go in next time, you tell me what you think we’re dealing with and how to kill it and you listen to me when I tell you otherwise.”

Castiel vibrated a little and Dean smiled. He was starting to become fond of the squid. After they scoped out the rest of the house to make sure nobody else was in it, they decided to call it an early day and meet back at the office the next morning to write their report. It would be another doctored file, but Dean was getting used to telling half-truths. After all, who cared? The nest was wiped out and that was all that mattered.

Instead of taking him back in the car, Castiel insisted on travelling through the sewage system. Which was fine by Dean, since now he didn’t have to lock him up in the cooler again.

Later that night, he got a call from Sam, who wanted to know if Dean had any intel for him. Dean told him about the bad-ass way in which Cas had taken out the vampires, but didn’t mention that he tried to do it with a stake first. Nor did he talk about Castiel confusing TV with reality. That was odd, even if their species had lived very withdrawn lives so far. But before Dean himself could get to the bottom of it, he decided to keep it to himself.

Much as he’d longed for a different partner before, right now he didn’t want to trade.

***

Interlude

Castiel was hiding out in the little cubbyhole in the sewers he’d made his home. It was dry and he’d made himself a little nest out of paper towels and pieces of cloth. He was contemplating what Dean had told him, about TV shows and them not being reality. He wondered if everything they’d seen about this planet had been false information.

Their ship had received constant transmissions and it led to them deciding to infiltrate the planet and claim it as their own. It was supposed to be an easy mission. Castiel had just been sent ahead to scope out more on creatures other than humans and how they might be defeated, since the intel here was deemed to be missing key pieces. He was starting to realize just how true that was.

But he’d been sent into Special Agent Henriksen’s department with enough knowledge to pass. Knowledge and stories his superiors had provided him with, claiming they’d watched more videos than him. Now Castiel was starting to suspect they’d withheld a lot more information from him.

He was staring down at the stream of water morosely when he was suddenly joined by Uriel, his direct commanding officer. Castiel stiffened, bowing before his superior.

“Castiel,” Uriel nodded. “I come demanding a status report.”

Castiel’s first instinct was to defy him, because how dare he demand anything of him after today? But he quickly reigned himself in. “Vampires can not be killed with stakes,” Castiel explained. “Their heads need to be detached from their bodies.”

Uriel’s face gave nothing away. He nodded once. “And?”

“And I almost got my partner killed because I didn’t know,” Castiel couldn’t help but say.

“And?” Uriel repeated.

Castiel frowned. “Did you not hear me? I almost got my partner killed.”

”Humans are fully expendable. Why you care is beyond me, but I guess it’s part of why we chose you for this mission. So I’ll leave your insubordination be.” Uriel flew closer to him. “For now,” he added in a threatening voice.

Castiel flinched a little. But then he thought about Dean and it strengthened his composure. “You knew, didn’t you? You know there is no Agent Summers. You know about TV shows.”

Uriel smirked coldly. “This was not for you to know. We need you to appear as innocent as possible.”

”But…” Castiel’s protest was cut short by Uriel wiggling his tentacles impatiently.

“Do they trust you?” Uriel cut in.

“Yes,” Castiel admitted sadly. That was his whole problem.

“Good,” Uriel nodded. “Keep it that way. Don’t give away anything, don’t use your powers, and Castiel…” Uriel waited until he had Castiel’s undivided attention. “Do not make us regret sending you on this mission. If that partner of yours finds out too much, he becomes a problem.”

He didn’t have to say more, Castiel understood just fine. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get Dean killed. The question was just if it was by a monster, or by his own kin. Castiel also knew that he shouldn’t care. But he’d never fully agreed with their mission. He didn’t know why they couldn’t just share this planet. Why wipe out a whole species, when they might as well co-exist?

Uriel dismissed him and left Castiel alone to his thoughts.

***

The next day, they met up in the office. Dean was halfway through his powdered sugar donut when Castiel joined him at his desk. Dean stopped eating and held out the pastry to his partner. “You want a bite?”

Castiel came closer and sniffed the donut, then recoiled. “I don’t think so.”

Dean shrugged and devoured his treat. “What do you eat, anyway?”

Castiel seemed to hedge his reply. “Mostly sewer dwellers,” he admitted finally.

“Sewer dwellers?” Dean repeated. “Rats?” He shuddered in disgust.

“They provide acceptable nutritional value,” Castiel explained.

“Yeah, but what about their taste?” Dean made a face and vowed to force-feed the squid some of his donut the next day. The pastry surely wouldn’t kill him, when he usually ate rats, would it? Also, hadn’t he just boasted on the intelligence of rats the other day? Yet he ate them?

“You said we had a report to write?” Castiel changed the topic.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, deciding not to muse on the rats too much. “The fun part of the job.”

Castiel perked up, but then he must have read Dean’s body language. “Oh. You did not mean that, did you?”

Dean chuckled. “You’re picking up quick, grasshopper.”

“Ningkiling,” Castiel corrected him. “I don’t know why this is so hard for you to remember.”

That made Dean laugh and he reached out to pat Castiel’s head. Again, he was taken aback at how silky his skin felt. “Alright, Cas. Let’s write that report.”

A few hours later, Dean had taught Castiel everything he knew about mandatory paperwork – and what leeway they had with the truth. It was almost time for lunch and Dean decided to start his break early by breaking out his copy of Weekly World News. If anyone asked, he was using every source at his disposal to do valuable research.

Dean was drawn to the article about the OctoMen and he snorted when he compared the blurry pictures to Castiel. The creatures in the article were almost twice as large as humans and the author claimed they’d come in spaceships, bent on taking over the world. This was just too good.

“Hey, Cas” Dean called his partner’s attention. Castiel looked up from a bestiary Dean had given him to study. “Look, here’s you.” He held up the magazine. “That even explains why you thought TV shows were real. The jig is up, buddy. I know you’re from outer space.”

Dean grinned, expecting indignation and a lecture on ningkilings, but instead, all the color drained from Castiel’s body and he squirted out a blue stream of… something. As the color was returning to his body, he shook so much, he practically vibrated in place. Dean had a brief flash of his dream the other night and added vibration to the fantasy before he could help it. Any arousal was quickly doused though, when he realized that whatever Cas had squirted was burning a large hole into the desk.

“Jesus fuck,” Dean jumped back, grabbing his coffee mug and watching the bestiary dissolve along with the desk. It was a good thing they only had a copy and the original was with Sam in D.C. “Cas?”

Castiel’s vibrating had stopped and he looked down at the desk with a horrified expression on his face. Then he let out a shrill sound and vanished into the direction of the restrooms in a flash of movement.

Before Dean could follow him, Jodie Mills stopped at his desk, steaming mug of coffee in her hand and eyebrows raised. “Your new partner is kind of bad-ass, huh?” she remarked dryly.

Dean looked at her dumbfounded, but then a sly smirk spread over his face. “You have no idea.”

“Please let me be here when Henriksen sees your desk,” Jodie said gleefully. Then she bent over to look at the hole more closely. “Eeesh, it seems to be spreading. You should pour some lye on it before it eats through the floor.”

“What?” Dean looked down as well. “Shit.” He quickly pushed up from his chair and went to the restrooms to fetch some soap in hopes that it’d neutralize whatever Cas squirted on his desk.

He found Castiel hovering over a drain, looking up when he heard Dean enter. Cas looked scared.

“Hey,” Dean approached him slowly so as not to spook him further. “You got any idea how to neutralize your, uh, stuff? It’s currently eating through the floor.”

Cas bit his lip, sinking a bit further down the drain. But with a sigh, he levelled himself back up. “I can stop it.” He hesitated though. “Will I be incarcerated when I go back out there?”

“What? Why?” Dean frowned, feeling bad for the squid. He still looked extremely scared.

“Because of what I did,” Castiel hovered closer to Dean. “Because of what I am,” he added more softly.

Dean raised his eyebrow. Because of what he was? He waved his hand dismissively though. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not the first agent to destroy equipment. I may have slammed a few doors hard enough to shatter glass.” Dean winked and leaned closer to Castiel. “One of the vampires shot at a screen the other week. And you don’t want to know what the werewolves did during a full moon once.”

“You sure?” Castiel asked.

“I promise nobody’s going to arrest you for this,” Dean smiled.

“Ok,” Castiel nodded. “I trust you, Dean.”

When Cas had left the restroom, Dean stayed and looked at himself in the mirror. He knew that he should probably report to Sam right now, share his growing suspicion that ningkilings were maybe not an ancient, forgotten race of monsters here on Earth but maybe aliens after all. But Cas trusted him. And somehow, he trusted him as well.

Back at his desk, Castiel was squatting above the floor, secreting a different colored liquid that seemed to neutralize the acid. “Are you peeing on the floor?” Dean asked incredulously.

“No, I’m…” Castiel looked up. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Dean snorted. “You’re peeing on the floor. First the damn wolves and now you, too. I need to ask for a re-assignment.” Dean rolled his eyes and sat back down.

“No, please don’t,” Castiel had come up again. “Do you not want to work with me anymore?”

Dean blinked. The squid sounded honestly distressed. “I’m joking, Cas. I’m fine right here.” He knocked on the desk. “With you,” he added, because Castiel seemed a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.

“Oh,” Castiel gave him a small smile. “I am glad.”

***

Later that day, Henriksen called them into his office and reamed Cas a new one. But Dean had briefed him about this before and he took it all with demure ‘yes, sir’s’ and Henriksen was mostly pissed that Castiel hadn’t disclosed this talent of his before. He also gave them a case, and they’d be off to Nebraska the next day.

That night, Dean called his brother to tell him about the acid and antidote. Sam was in a good mood, so he chatted about Leonore and teased Dean about finding a significant other on his own. He was the older brother after all. When Sam called him a cat-lady-to-be, instead of being offended, Dean got an idea.

So the next day, he said goodbye to Mindy with the excuse that he’d be going to visit his brother, who was going to adopt a kitten from a co-worker, grabbed two donuts instead of one, and entered the office with a wicker cat carrier in hand.

It was meant to be an alternative to the cooler and Castiel gratefully entered the carrier, hiding in the back behind a blanket Dean had added for him. Henriksen rolled his eyes, but hopefully Cas would feel better if he got some fresh air and could see what was happening outside instead of being locked inside a box.

He carried him to the Impala and set the carrier down on the front seat, opening the door. Cas only came out when they were on the freeway though. “Thank you, Dean.” Cas carried the blanket with him and put it down on the seat before nestling into it.

“Don’t squirt acid on my seats,” Dean replied, secretly pleased that Cas was calm and happy.

“I would never!” Castiel assured him, looking at Dean with big blue eyes. Dean had to force his gaze away before he risked crashing the car.

For the rest of their drive, they discussed their case, trading theories. The town they were headed to had seen a lot of gruesome deaths in recent months, corpses so mutilated they were hard to identify. Autopsy reports suggested wild animals fed on them after their death, though early reports indicated most of those wounds were being inflicted prior to dying. Dean suspected recent reports had been purposefully neglecting this fact to keep a mass panic at bay.

The dates of the killings varied and were not in sync with moon cycles, so werewolves were out of the question. It didn’t appear to be a ghost’s M.O. either and there was a whole array of other creatures it could have been. Nothing was caught on camera this time, so they had to investigate old school – which would prove to be interesting, with a partner Dean couldn’t really bring along to interviews.

For lunch that first day, Dean stopped at a drive-through and then parked at a deserted picnic area so Cas could get out of the car with him. He insisted Cas try a donut and after a first, reluctant bite, it was soon devoured.

A few birds joined them in their lonely spot and Castiel was so interested, his third eye popped back out again as he was watching them. This time, Dean was mildly prepared and it didn’t gross him out as much. It was even amusing, when Cas tried talking to the birds.

It stopped being funny when a bee came along, trying to land on Castiel, presumably because of his blue coloring. Dean didn’t want to find out how ningkilings dealt with bee poison, so he quickly packed up and pretended they needed to be on their way due to a tight schedule. Cas was disappointed, but followed.

Back in the car, Dean mostly talked about his brother and how they came into hunting. Castiel was very interested in the hunts Dean described, but he also listened to Dean just rambling on about Sammy and his accomplishments in the bureau.

When they made it to a motel later that night, Dean had found out that Castiel wouldn’t sleep on a bed but was happy with a towel in the corner of the room. So Dean luxuriated in getting a king sized bed just for himself and asked for extra towels.

Just as he’d gotten the cat carrier out of the car, he was surprised by a little girl who became super excited to see his cat. Dean had to lie about having a very shy kitten, but that only excited her more. Castiel attempted to growl from behind his blankets, but it sounded so very unlike a cat, that Dean quickly turned tail, ignoring the confused girl.

“We need to work on that,” he informed Castiel as soon as they were behind closed doors.

“Sorry,” Cas apologized. “Should it be deeper?” He growled again, deep and menacing and Dean shuddered. Now he sounded more like a wolf.

“I’m gonna have to smuggle you into a pet shop one of these days.” Dean shook his head. “Just don't make any noise.”

“Oh.” Castiel nodded contritely.

“You really never got out, did you?” Dean felt bad for the squid. Then again, if he was only on this planet for a short while, that would make sense. Because for all Dean could tell, his species was anything but helpless.

“I haven’t been allowed outside for a very long time,” Castiel replied sadly.

Dean frowned. “Who ever made those rules? And why?”

“My superiors are not as accommodating as Special Agent Henriksen.” Castiel got a faraway look on his face and then visibly shook himself. “We should rest. You need to recuperate from driving.”

“I’m ok,” Dean shrugged. He’d rather hear more from Cas. But the squid ignored him and got comfortable with a blanket in the corner instead. “Alright, then. Guess it’s time for bed,” Dean replied dryly before throwing one of the pillows Cas’ way and disappearing to the bathroom to get ready.

When he came back out, Castiel was nestled deep in the towel on top of the pillow, only his purple hair showing. Dean was tempted to go over there and pet him, but Castiel was anything but a pet, cute as he might be. Dean went to bed thinking about the article and the picture of those super sized octomen, and how they were nothing like the tiny squid currently in the room with him.

***

Dean woke up in the middle of the night when a warm weight settled next to him. He turned around, still half-asleep, and wrapped his arms around the person joining him, only to realize he was touching the smoothness of Castiel’s skin. Castiel, who was suddenly human-sized and had joined him in bed?

“Cas?” Dean pulled back.

“Shhh,” Castiel rasped, placing a tentacle over Dean’s lips. “I’ve looked at porn, like you told me to. And ever since, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What I want to do with you. What I want to do to you.” The tentacle was gone and Castiel’s lips replaced it, kissing Dean tentatively. His slim tongue was explorative and wrapped around Dean’s in a way he’d never felt before.

Dean groaned and reciprocated, but when he came up for air, he pushed Castiel away softly. “But why are you my size?”

Castiel shushed him again. “Don’t tell anyone.” Two of his tentacles had snuck into Dean’s pants and they were slowly pushed down his legs.

“Ok,” Dean agreed, too out of it with want at the moment to really care. He wondered if Castiel oozed pheromones of some kind, or maybe it was just the tentacles that had him this stupidly aroused this fast.

“Spread your legs for me, Dean,” Castiel commanded in a husky voice.

Dean complied, moaning deeply when a tentacle slithered up, pushing at his entrance. It was lubricated with something Dean didn’t even want to know but he spread his legs wider, helped by two other tentacles which had wrapped around his thighs to keep him open.

The thick tentacle slid in with little resistance and Dean threw his head back, screaming out in pleasure.

“Shush,” Castiel shook his head. “Can’t have that.” And before Dean knew it, there was another tentacle sliding between his lips. Dean sucked on it immediately, his eyes closing in sheer bliss. And Castiel definitely must be oozing some kind of drug, because Dean wantonly clung to Castiel, unable to thrust back with the tentacles holding him in place. The pressure in his ass was delicious though, the thick tentacle slithering back and forth, kind of pulsing against his prostate.

Dean felt like it might never stop, just slithering back and forth until he was mad with it. He moaned around the tentacle in his mouth, trying to take it deeper, suck harder to get more of whatever it was oozing out.

“You’re so good for me, Dean,” Castiel whispered in his ear, his tongue flicking out and licking across his cheek. “You’ll make a great pet.” Castiel’s head dipped down, licking and sucking his way down Dean’s chest until he reached his nipples. When Castiel started nibbling on them, Dean grew rigid, needing more. Fast.

He could feel Castiel chuckling against his skin and another tentacle finally wrapped around Dean’s aching cock. It would have been enough, but then all of the tentacles started vibrating, just like Dean had seen in the office, and Dean came in a white hot flash, almost passing out from the force of it.

More liquid splashed down his throat and he could feel it squirting in his ass and on his body as well. It tingled pleasantly and when the tentacle slithered out of his mouth, he gulped in a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling dazedly. “Cas… Cas…” He didn’t even know what to say.

Castiel was eye-level again, licking over Dean’s lips. “Don’t think we’re done yet,” he promised. “I want to see if you can fit two.”

Before Dean could ask ‘two of what’, his question was answered by a second tentacle slowly spreading him open to slide in alongside the first. His ass was raised from the bed and he grabbed the bed sheets in a tight grip to ground himself. “Oh god,” Dean whispered, gulping in more air before the tentacle gag came back.

But instead of the expected thick tentacle, he was slapped in the face by a much thinner one.

“Dean? Dean? Are you okay?” Castiel asked him frantically.

Dean blinked his eyes open, coming face to face with a much tinier Cas, blue eyes open in worry. And… shit. Dean covered his face with both hands, roughly rubbing himself fully awake. “Yeah,” he croaked. “’M fine.”

“You were moaning loudly. I was afraid you were mortally wounded,” Castiel explained.

Dean coughed out a laugh, because this whole scene was just too painful not to. He really had to lay off the hentai porn. Jesus. He looked at Cas again. “Do you dream?”

Castiel looked away quickly, as if caught. “Yes.”

“What do you dream about?” Dean was honestly curious, but he also needed to occupy the squid for a while before he was able to get up out of bed.

“Oceans, mostly.” Castiel smiled. “Lately, uh…” he trailed off, biting his own lip while looking at Dean’s. “Oceans.”

Dean raised his eyebrow. If he wasn’t mistaken, the squid might just be having similar dreams to his. It made him feel better for perving on his not-so-innocent partner. “Yeah, me, too,” Dean replied. “I was dreaming of oceans.”

“Were you drowning?” Castiel asked, concerned.

Dean flushed, flashing back to the oozing tentacle he was happily drowning on. “Uh, no.”

“Oh,” Castiel cocked his head. “You sounded like you were dying.”

“I wasn’t,” Dean licked his lips, slightly disappointed to find them dry and chapped. No trace of whatever Cas had been oozing in his dream. He subtly reached down to make sure he was still wearing his pants. “I’m gonna take a shower,” Dean announced, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“I shall join you,” Castiel decided happily.

“No, you won’t.” Dean shook his head, holding up a hand to cut off any further protest. “Inappropriate.”

“Oh.” Castiel’s face fell a little, but he nodded, about to follow Dean into the bathroom anyway.

“The whole room, Cas,” Dean explained exasperatedly. “You wait out here. You can go in when I am finished.”

“But why?” Castiel protested.

Not bothering with a reply, Dean closed the door in Castiel’s face. He needed time alone to think. And to get his still aching hard-on back under control.

Dean opted for a cold shower, not wanting to risk Cas investigating any strange noises he might hear. When he was done, he turned the shower back on for Castiel, who had no qualms about the sounds he made, judging by the loud moans reaching Dean’s ears.

Castiel was smiling happily when he joined Dean back in the main room later. “The water here is so clean.”

“As opposed to sewer water?” Dean questioned.

Cas narrowed his eyes at the insult. “Less chlorine,” he offered as a short explanation before ending the conversation.

***

Castiel picked it back up when they were on the road again. “I did not freely choose to live in the sewage tunnels.”

“But it’s where you guys have to hide?” Dean suggested, feeling a little bad for teasing him earlier.

“No.” Castiel seemed to contemplate his next words. “It’s where I was sent to stay.”

“By whom?” Dean asked.

“My superiors,” Cas grumbled.

“Well, they suck, then,” Dean replied matter-of-factly. “Maybe Henriksen can arrange for something. Set you up somewhere nicer.” In theory, he could even offer Cas a place to stay at his apartment, but after that dream he had the other night and the one he had before, with Cas in his normal size… Not a good idea.

“You think so?” Castiel asked hopefully. But then his voice grew softer. “My superiors wouldn’t like it.”

“So?” Dean challenged. “You don’t always have to follow orders.”

“No.” It sounded hesitant at first. “No, I do not,” Castiel repeated in a steely voice.

“Where are they living anyway?” Dean didn’t want to sound like he was fishing for a location, so he added, “Bet it’s nicer than the sewers.”

Castiel nodded emphatically. “It is in a lake. We can see the fish from our windows.”

Dean wondered if ‘it’ was his spaceship, but it might just as well only be their building. If they were an ancient race as he said, who knew? “How often do you get to go home?”

“I am not allowed while on my assignment.” Castiel had taken up a spot by the window and was gazing out. They were on a mostly deserted highway, so Dean didn’t try and make him hide.

“That sucks.” Dean would go crazy if anyone tried to stop him from going to visit Sam or Bobby whenever he wanted. “So you’re all alone? No contact?” Did ningkilings own cellphones?

“My superior visits,” Castiel said.

“Oh, I bet those are fun visits,” Dean dead-panned.

“No.” Castiel sighed. “I like this assignment, though.” He perked back up. “I like spending time with you, Dean.”

“You know what, Cas?” Dean smiled at his partner. “I like spending time with you as well.”

Without disclosing too much on his species or where they came from, Castiel chatted a bit more about his friends and family. Apparently he had a lot of siblings, but he was only really close with his sister, Anna.

***

>> Part Two

How To Kiss Your Dragon (Jensen/Misha, fantasy AU, R)

2016-01-14T21:33:34Z

Title: How To Kiss Your Dragon
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Misha, fantasy AU
Rating: R for language
Disclaimer: Me no own. All the artwork was done by the amazing Jaelijn
Word Count: 8.000
Summary: When Misha stumbles upon a desperate Jensen - who has just woken up as a dragon - he decides to help him. But breaking the curse is not as easy as they are let to believe.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on jaelijn’s art prompt located on tumblr or LJ. Thanks for the inspiration!
Thanks to grammar-savvy sleepingspero9 for beta-reading.

=> AO3 <=

It was a beautiful, sunny day. So Misha decided to leave his errands be, and instead he now ambled along a small path leading deeper into the woods so he could sit down under a willow tree and relax with some herbs. But much to his dismay, just as he was about to settle in a mossy, cozy looking spot, he heard an awful noise. It was a continuous loud screech coming from one of the trees, impossible to ignore. As he got closer, he realized that it wasn’t just one screech, it was a whole bunch of dragons making so much noise that they all blended into one.

Naturally, he went to investigate. A medium-sized red dragon was circling the tree, trying to find a perch, but the others wouldn’t let him land.

“But I don’t understand,” the red dragon was complaining helplessly. “What is wrong with you guys? Why won’t you talk to me?”

It was then that Misha realized the dragon was speaking a human tongue. And he seemed to be unable to hear the dragons yelling at him to explain what he was doing. “Calm down, guys,” Misha told them, going over with his hands outstretched. “I got this.”

The dragons quieted down a bit, and Misha pointed at the red dragon. “Hey there. You realize they don’t speak English, right?”

“What?” The dragon stopped circling and hovered in the air in front of Misha.

“Are you fucking with them, or what?” Misha frowned. “I’ve never met a multi-lingual dragon. That’s kinda cool.”

“What?” The dragon repeated, clearly confused.

“You do speak Wormtongue, don’t you?” Misha asked him in the dragons’ native language.

“Oh fuck me,” the dragon was clearly distressed. “The fucker must have fucked with my hearing, too. God dammit. Isn’t this enough?” He yelled while looking up at the skies. Then he landed a few feet away from the tree and from Misha, pulling in his wings and lying down on the ground rolled up in a ball, looking defeated.

“So…” Misha sat down in front of the dragon, having switched back to English. “I’m sensing there’s a story here.” Misha had never seen a dragon pout, but this one kind of was. It was adorable.

The dragon raised his head. “Just fuck off and leave me alone in my misery. I don’t need any more elves screwing with me.”

Misha rubbed his ears self-consciously, momentarily taken aback. “I’m not like other elves,” he offered.

The dragon turned around so he wasn’t facing Misha. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m not usually… I don’t care what you are.”

Misha raised his eyebrow, bemused. “Why, thank you. That means a lot, coming from a dragon.”

“I’m not a dragon,” the dragon grumbled.

“I figured,” Misha replied, smiling when the dragon turned his way again. He wasn’t stupid. Going by the dragon’s unusual facial expressions and language, there was only one solution. “Let me guess… You’re a human who got cursed by an elf?”

The dragon’s tail thumped on the ground as he unrolled and stood up. “Yes? How the hell did you guess that?” He crept closer to Misha, chest thrust out, head held high, obviously trying to be intimidating. “Do you know who cursed me?”

“No, sorry.” Misha held his hands up again. “It just seemed obvious?” And wasn’t this a weird conversation. He looked at the satchel of herbs still attached to his belt. Nope, he was definitely still sober.

“So you do this often? Curse humans?” The dragon’s collar puffed out and his tail was curved up as if ready to strike. “She could have fucking warned me.”

“She?” Misha asked.

“Danneel.” The dragon’s posture relaxed visibly, tail curling up on the ground again and he took on an almost serene look. “The prettiest girl in my village.”

Misha snorted. “You think you got cursed for sleeping with an elf?”

“Well, we finally…” The dragon trailed off. “And then I woke up like this.”

Misha bit off a snort. “Hate to break it to you, but if every human I fucked ended up a dragon, you’d have a lot of friends to chat with.” He winked.

“But human / elf relationships are… strongly discouraged,” the dragon argued.

“Like I care,” Misha rolled his eyes. “And you obviously don’t have a problem with it either.”

The dragon smirked. “I’m Jensen, by the way.”

“Misha,” Misha replied, holding out his hand instinctively. The dragon – Jensen – bumped his head against it, causing Misha to laugh. “This is scientifically interesting though, how you still speak English, but with a dragon’s tongue.”

“What do you mean?” Jensen asked.

“I can hear you, but only because I am attuned to Wormtongue. It’s hard to explain. You are speaking English, which is why the dragons can’t understand you, but you are also speaking with a dragon’s mouth, which is why humans probably have a hard time understanding you.” Misha bit his lip. Man, that really sucked for Jensen.

“That explains a lot.” Jensen slumped back down, letting his head loll onto his paws in defeat.

Misha hesitated a moment, then he reached over and petted Jensen’s head. “There, there, little dragon.”

Jensen bristled and immediately the collar was puffed up again. “Fuck off, you motherfucker. I am taller than you.”

“Right now, you’re not.” Misha couldn’t help a laugh. The dragon was just so damn cute when he got agitated like this. Misha knew better than to tell him though. For all he knew, Jensen was able to spew fire. Also, he generally didn’t want to alienate him. “Listen, I got a friend…” Misha started. Though 'friend' was probably stretching it, in this case. But Jensen didn’t need to know the details. “He’s a wizard. He might be able to help.”

“Really?” Jensen’s tail thumped again, anger apparently forgotten. “So what are we waiting for? Take me now!”

Misha sighed, glancing at his satchel longingly. “Right now?”

Jensen moved closer, head butting Misha’s knee. “I would be endlessly grateful if you could help me, Misha.”

Misha’s eyes narrowed, looking at the tiny dragon now nuzzling his thigh. Interesting, how quickly Jensen had changed tactics. “How grateful?”

“Ew!” Jensen jumped back immediately. “You… you pervert! You…”

Misha laughed again. “Relax, dragon. I’m just messing with you.” Maybe it wasn’t nice, since Jensen clearly needed his help, but… Misha couldn’t help himself. He stood up and held his hand out for the dragon to perch on.

The dragon refused and took flight instead, hovering close to Misha’s head. “You’re an asshole.”

“Been called worse,” Misha grinned.

“Bet you deserved it,” Jensen snarked back, but he followed Misha without further complaint.

Together they travelled back through the forest and towards the main road. But soon Jensen’s wings started flapping erratically and he was having trouble keeping pace with Misha. He was either too fast or too slow.

“I know you don’t need my help, but you can perch on my shoulder, if you want to,” Misha offered.

“I’m fine,” Jensen replied, voice tense.

“You’ve been a dragon for how long?” Misha questioned. “One day?”

“Woke up like this yesterday morning,” Jensen admitted. “I thought flying at least would be fun, but it’s hard.” His voice had gotten quieter.

“You’ll get used to it,” Misha reassured him, patting his shoulder invitingly. But Jensen still refused.

“You think I’ll stay like this?” Jensen asked sadly.

“That’s not what I meant.” Misha shook his head. “I’m sure Jared can help you.” If he’d be willing to.

Jensen puffed out hot air and flew a few feet ahead of Misha, constantly looking back to make sure he was on the right track. Twenty minutes later they reached the inn Misha was staying at. He always booked here when he was in this part of the country. It wasn’t too expensive and nobody asked questions. Still, entering with a dragon in tow probably wasn’t the best idea, so Jensen waited outside and joined Misha in his room once Misha opened the window for him to fly through.

Jensen settled down on Misha’s bed with a heavy breath and watched him putter about with various herbs and liquids. Misha was sure there was a question on his tongue, but Jensen just seemed too wiped to summon the energy and ask. His suspicions were confirmed when a few minutes later, soft snoring could be heard from the dragon’s rolled up form. Misha resisted the urge to go back over and pet him again. He simply couldn’t help it; he had always thought dragons were really cute. But while it was ok for them to talk to him once he’d learned their language, they still never came close enough to allow Misha to touch them. Jensen wasn’t really a dragon, though – or else he probably would have singed Misha’s hide a few times already. Somehow, his sad story made Misha want to comfort him - and thus pet him - even more.

However, just as Misha had finished his set up, and before he could shake Jensen awake - gently, of course - Jensen woke back up on his own. He shook himself before trotting to the edge of the bed, peering at Misha. “So, I take it, you’re magic, too?”

“I know a few spells, if that’s what you mean.” Misha beamed at him. “Otherwise I think we’re all magic, each and every single creature.”

Jensen bristled. “You’re such an elf.”

“Why, thank you.” Misha winked and painted a few charcoal signs on the mirror. “Ready?” He quickly mumbled the summoning spell and when he was done, the signs glowed a bright yellow before disappearing. Instead of a reflection, now Jared could be seen through the glass. His back to the mirror, he was dancing to a beat he hummed himself until suddenly he froze and turned around.

“Who summons m…” He intoned in a loud, intimidating baritone until he spotted Misha. “Misha? What the fuck? Couldn’t you have knocked first?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know how to do that. Is that one of the spells you refused to teach me?” Misha countered.

Jared’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to the mirror. “What do you want?” His voice was icy again.

Jensen took that as his cue to hop onto the counter so he’d be closer to the mirror. “Yeah, uh, hi. I seem to be in a predicament I hope you can help me with.”

Jared paused. “An English speaking dragon. How droll. Have you finally found your match, Misha?” He smirked at the other man, his expression less than kind.

“Shut up,” Misha sighed, passing a hand through his hair. “He’s been cursed. He’s human.”

“Well, of course he’s been cursed,” Jared retorted. “Dragons are far too stupid to learn a new language.”

“Hey!” Misha glared at the wizard. Jared’s arrogance had been one of the reasons why it never could have worked out between them. “Could you, for once, please get off your high horse and help him?”

“Oh wow, you said please. I didn’t think I’d ever get you begging me again. Brings up fond memories, doesn’t it?” Jared gave him a sardonic grin.

Misha was about to reply when his eyes fell onto the dragon. He had to swallow his pride; but obviously just asking nicely wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Yeah, I get it. You can’t help him. Guess you’re not the great wizard you always said you were after all.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re doing. But lucky for you, I’m feeling charitable today.” His gaze fixed on the dragon. “Do you know who cursed you?”

“No,” Jensen replied. “I woke up like this.”

“Hm,” Jared cocked his head. “And what were you doing right before you fell asleep?”

“Uhm…” If possible, the dragon’s red deepened. “I slept with an elf.”

“I see,” Jared pointed towards Misha. “It didn’t happen to be this elf, did it?”

“What? No,” Jensen looked up at Misha. “Someone else.”

“If you won’t tell me anything, I’m not able to help you,” Jared raised his arm, about to end the transmission.

“Wait!” Misha stopped him. “What does it matter who he slept with? You already know how to cure that curse, don’t you?”

Jared’s startled look was all the reply Misha needed. “A kiss,” Jared told them. “It can be cured with a kiss.” He moved closer to the mirror. “And that’s as far as my charity goes. Good day.” He waved his hand and the mirror splintered into shards, some of them almost hitting Jensen.

“Ugh, that arrogant prick,” Misha quickly scooped Jensen out of the way. “He could have just blocked the view. Now I’m gonna have to pay for damages.”

“So…” Jensen was lying in Misha’s arm and looking up at him hopefully. “You think he’s right? You think a simple kiss is gonna cure me?”

Misha shrugged and put Jensen down on his bed again before kneeling down in front of it. “Can’t know until we’ve tried.”

”You’re just gonna kiss me? Just like that? No demands or payment required?” Jensen looked down at himself. “I mean, I’m a dragon.”

“I don’t judge,” Misha smiled. He placed his hand on the dragon’s back and pulled him closer before planting a soft kiss on his snout. Then he pulled back and they both waited. Misha touched his lips. “That was colder than expected. And kind of wet.” He tried to make light of the situation.

“Ugh, shut up,” Jensen bristled. “Don’t tell me we need to do this again but with tongue.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Misha frowned. “But seeing as you haven’t turned back by now…” He’d really thought Jared was telling the truth.

“Maybe it works in my sleep. Maybe I just need to go to bed and wake up again.” Jensen tried to be optimistic.

“Yeah, maybe,” Misha admitted, even though he didn’t really believe it. “You wanna stay here? In case you wake up human; you wouldn’t want to wake up stark naked in the middle of the forest.”

The dragon shuddered. “Thank you, Misha. For everything.”

Misha nodded, setting his pillow down onto the ground so Jensen could roll up on it. “Goodnight, Jensen. Hope to meet you properly tomorrow.”

“You just wanna see me naked,” Jensen muttered silently. “Pervert.”

Misha smiled and reached down to pet the dragon’s head, delighted when Jensen let him. Then he got ready for bed himself.

The next morning, Misha was woken up by a loud crash. His initial thought, that Jensen was cured, was soon smashed however, when he heard more things crashing to the floor - accompanied by the frantic flapping of wings. He opened his eyes to find Jensen tearing through his magic supply.

“That’s not gonna help,” Misha mumbled before letting out a loud yawn. “In fact, that’s counter-productive to me contacting Jared again to ask that little weasel to clarify.” Jared knew more than he’d been saying, of that Misha was sure. He’d come up with a cure way too quickly.

Jensen stopped with a bunch of dried leaves between his teeth and landed in the rubble with a huff. “Sorry.”

Misha sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Alright, let me take a shower and then we’ll give Jared another call.”

After Misha had cleaned up, he filled the sink for Jensen to wash up in. The dragon gratefully accepted, even if he seemed to be embarrassed about taking a bath in Misha’s sink.

While Jensen splashed about, Misha cleaned up his stash and then prepared the spell in front of the tiny bathroom mirror. But when he said the spell this time, nothing happened. Misha tried again, pressing on the mirror with his hand to strengthen the magic. However, when he’d completed the spell, he could feel the mirror ripple and repel him.

“That bastard!” Misha frowned. Now he definitely knew that Jared hadn’t been honest with them the day before. “It seems as if Jared’s blocking my calls.”

Jensen looked up from the towel he was nestled in to get dry, probably also because it provided warmth and comfort, Misha guessed. From what he knew, dragons got cold pretty quickly. That was one reason why they stayed in packs, to keep each other warm.

“Don’t worry,” Misha reassured him. “That’s not my only means of communication.” With a sigh, he reached for his shaving knife, then retreated into the main room to pick up one of his bowls. He cut his wrist and let the blood drip into the bowl, putting a cloth onto his skin to still the bleeding once he felt he’d had enough blood.

“Jeeze,” Jensen had come in to watch him. “That doesn’t look so good. You don’t have to kill yourself for me.” He moved closer, butting his head against Misha’s leg.

Misha reached down to pet him. “Don’t worry. This is personal now. Jared might be screwing with you to get back at me.”

“There’s a story here that I would like to know. But not while you’re bleeding all over the carpet.” Jensen extracted himself from Misha’s hand and butted his leg again.

Misha smiled and checked his wrist. The bleeding had almost stopped. Time to make his call. He reached a finger into the bowl and stirred his blood in circles while muttering a new spell.

After a few turns, Jared appeared in the bowl, looking impressed. “Wow, blood magic. Really, Misha? I definitely didn’t teach you that.”

“You were not my only master,” Misha replied cryptically.

“You wound me,” Jared placed his hands over his heart in a big gesture. Then his grin turned nasty again. “I was certainly the only one willing to take on such a poor, low level elf as yourself. Look where that’s gotten us, Mish.”

“I don’t recall you facing any repercussions for it,” Misha huffed. In fact, after things between them didn’t work out, Jared denounced him and Misha had the hardest time finding another teacher. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Bygones. I was wondering why your little cure didn’t help. Any ideas about that?”

“Aw, the kiss didn't help?” Jared wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Guess Jensen’s gonna be stuck like this forever then. Give him my deepest regrets.” And with that, Jared snapped his fingers and he vanished from the bowl.

Misha cursed and almost threw the bowl against the wall, but thought better of it. He looked down at Jensen who held his gaze.

“Wait,” Jensen frowned. “Can he read minds or something?”

”Not that I know of,” Misha frowned. “And definitely not from this distance anyway. Why do you ask?”

“He knew my name,” Jensen stated.

“Because we told him,” Misha said, but then he paused and replayed the conversations they had with Jared. “Oh, that son of a bitch!”

“We didn’t tell him?” Jensen hopped up onto the bed so Misha wouldn’t have to look down at him anymore.

“We didn’t,” Misha confirmed. He cocked his head. “What village was that girl from again?”

“Danneel?”

“Yeah. Danneel.” Misha nodded. “It wasn’t anywhere near Lafayette, was it?”

Jensen’s tail thumped. “That’s her hometown. How’d you know that?”

“That’s where Jared’s from,” Misha informed him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Jared had probably been the one to curse Jensen himself. But why? While Jared scoffed at inter-species relationships, he wouldn’t just curse a random guy because of it. “You’ve never met him though?”

“No. I would’ve remembered.” Jensen laid down on his front feet. “What now?”

“Now we’re travelling to Lafayette and confronting a wizard.” Misha rubbed his temples. Damn, this was bad though. Jared was powerful. Way more powerful than Misha. He’d only taught him an inkling of what he could do, and afterwards Misha had only found a few shady magicians to teach him black magic. He hadn’t wanted to get into it too deep; it wasn’t the kind of magic he’d set out to learn. So he settled on teaching himself and became an errand boy and messenger instead. It suited him just fine. He got to travel the country and had enough free time to pursue his other interests. Now though, he wished he’d gotten deep into the black arts, so he’d be able to teach Jared a lesson.

It was a three days’ ride to Lafayette. After a brief discussion, Jensen conceded that he should travel along in Misha’s messenger bag instead of flying right beside him. Misha’s horse, Justine, was too fast for Jensen to keep up with.

They spent their first morning mostly in silence, Misha drained from his spell and Jensen awkwardly fighting to keep his head above the bag so he could watch where they were going. It was only when they settled down for lunch that their conversation started up again.

“You think you can catch a mouse?” Misha asked the docile dragon in an attempt to cheer him back up. Ever since Jared’s second call, Jensen had been too calm for his liking. He seemed rather hopeless and Misha couldn’t have that.

“Why would I want to catch a mouse?” Jensen was still sitting in the messenger bag, which Misha had placed on the ground.

“Lunch?” Misha suggested.

“Oh, ew!” Jensen predictably fled the bag and shook himself in disgust.

Misha bit back his smirk. “A few bugs then? Maybe you can find some juicy maggots on an animal carcass once you venture further into the woods?”

“Are you trying to make me puke before I’ve even eaten anything?” Jensen glared at Misha, who couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore. “Oh, that’s right,” Jensen scoffed at him. “Make fun of the tiny dragon. He can’t defend himself.” Jensen took flight, trying to spew fire. But all that Misha felt was hot air against his cheeks.

When Jensen realized his attempts were futile, he landed again and started gnawing at Misha’s pants angrily. “Hey now!” Misha reached down and dragged him off. “That hurts!” He quickly had to let go and pull back his hand though, because Jensen tried to bite his fingers next.

Jensen settled down on Misha’s legs with a satisfied smirk. “Who’s the tiny helpless dragon now, eh?”

Misha smiled and reached for his saddlebag, taking out some dried meat. “Alright. Guess you earned this, mighty hunter.” He threw Jensen a strip of meat, which Jensen managed to catch mid-air. He stayed on Misha’s legs until he was done chewing, then relocated to a spot in the grass next to him.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re still mocking me,” Jensen announced, butting his head against Misha’s thigh before Misha fed him another strip of meat.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Misha defended himself, happy that he’d managed to rouse Jensen. “Seriously though. You don’t think you’d enjoy a live meal better?” Jensen nipped Misha’s side hard for that, but the sheer outrage on the dragon’s face was worth it.

For dinner, Misha caught them each a fish. Jensen refused to eat it raw, but Misha had to start a fire for his own anyway. While he was collecting wood, Jensen flew off to explore the area, as he said, coming back with a pear caught in his snout before flying off again for a second one.

“Dessert,” Jensen announced proudly, and Misha patted his head in thanks.

“Shit, you’re really cold though, aren’t you?” Misha realized as he felt Jensen’s scales. He picked him up and cradled him in his arms. Jensen only protested a little, which must have meant he was actually pretty miserable. “You need body warmth,” Misha decided. “Hold still.”

“Don’t,” Jensen tried to protest, but he quickly fell silent when Misha started rubbing his belly and limbs perfunctorily, making sure to keep it as efficient as possible. Not that Misha minded petting the dragon, but he really needed Jensen to accept it right now. It wouldn’t do them any good if he fell ill.

When Jensen started to warm up a bit, Misha sat him back down and started the fire. As soon as it was going, Jensen curled up close to it. After preparing the fish, Misha sat down next to Jensen, stroking his back.

“Thanks,” Jensen looked up at him meekly.

“Don’t mention it,” Misha replied. It was his fault that it had gotten so bad after all. Despite inhabiting the body of one, Jensen didn’t know a thing about dragons. Misha, however, had at least some knowledge. He should have checked on Jensen earlier. “I’m sorry. I should have checked on you sooner. There’s a reason dragons always travel in packs.”

“I didn’t travel alone,” Jensen protested.

“Yeah, but we didn’t have direct body contact either. You can’t absorb warmth from the dead leather of my messenger bag,” Misha reasoned.

Jensen groaned. “This is so embarrassing.” He moved closer to Misha though, nestling up against his leg.

“Why?” Misha asked. “You’re a dragon now. It’s biology.”

“I hate needing help,” Jensen admitted silently.

Misha looked down at him and bit his lip. He could relate. He’d put himself at others’ mercy before and it had never turned out well for him. Now he'd have chosen to suffer alone rather than ask for help. He’d only contacted Jared because of Jensen. Misha would have never asked him for anything if he’d been the one in trouble. It was a lonely, probably unhealthy way of living his life, though. He realized that. “Me, too,” Misha replied and then decided to switch topics. “What’s your job back in Lafayette?”

“Richard’s Town,” Jensen replied.

“Huh?” Misha frowned.

“I’m from Richard’s Town. It’s where I met Danneel,” Jensen explained.

“Right.” Misha remembered that Jensen couldn’t have flown all the way from Lafayette when he met him. “I heard it’s a nice town. So what do you do?”

Jensen smiled. “I’m a blacksmith. But I also know my way around leather and wood. And I’m a decent hunter.”

Misha was impressed. “A regular Jack-of-all-trades, eh? I bet you’re a great friend to have.” And very self-sufficient. It made sense with what Jensen had told him before.

Jensen huffed. “Oh yeah, I’m everybody’s best friend when they need my help.”

“I’m sure you have some actual friends back home though, right?” Misha offered. Jensen didn’t seem like a loner to him. He wasn’t the weird outsider that Misha was.

“Yeah, ok,” Jensen conceded with another smile. “That’s true. I bet they’re starting to worry by now.”

“You want me to dispatch a message?” Misha offered.

“And say what? ‘Don’t worry, I’ve just been turned into a dragon. I’ll be back as soon as I’m cured?’”

“Why not?”

“For starters, they’d think I was pranking them. That I’d run off with someone and would be back soon enough.”

“But Danneel is surely still around?” Misha questioned.

Jensen squirmed a little, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, that. She was nice enough and in the future, I might have settled down with her somewhere. Maybe. Who knows. It was too early to tell. Either way, my friends didn’t know my wooing had finally succeeded.”

Misha hummed under his breath and reached out to turn their fish. It seemed even harsher to curse Jensen for sleeping with someone who apparently wasn’t The One. Or maybe that was why? Maybe Danneel had felt scorned and asked Jared for help? Hopefully they’d find out soon enough. “So did you always want to become a blacksmith?” Misha asked, to keep the conversation going.

“No, it’s…” Jensen hesitated. “I’ve… I’ve always wanted to become a healer.” He waited, probably to hear Misha’s laugh. Usually, only kids from wealthy families were accepted into training, as it was quite lengthy and costly. It was similar to wizardry.

“That’s a noble profession,” Misha replied. They both fell silent for a beat.

“Or a bard,” Jensen added. “Actually, my voice is quite good. In human form, anyway.”

Misha laughed. “Oh, I bet that goes over really well with the ladies.”

Jensen smirked slyly. “And the men.”

“I see.” Misha smirked right back. “I’m a poet.”

Now it was Jensen’s turn to laugh. “Oh really? Recite me a poem then.”

Misha thought for a moment. “Tiny dragon, scales so red,” he started, ignoring Jensen’s snort. “Wonder what your skin feels like. Tiny dragon, eyes so dark, wonder what their true color is. Tiny dragon, why so cold? Let me share my body warmth. Tiny dragon, why so angry? Belly empty, fish is ready.”

Jensen stared up at him and Misha was pretty sure that he’d turned a darker shade of red again. “That didn’t even rhyme,” he assessed the poem. “And just a fair warning: the next dragon you recite this to might take offense at being repeatedly called tiny and fry your stupid giant ass.” Jensen huffed and turned away from Misha, taking flight and snatching his fish before eating it on the other side of the fire.

However, once they were both done eating, Misha rolled up with his blanket close to the fire. He held it open for Jensen invitingly, and without a word, Jensen crawled under the blanket with him, rolling up into a ball against Misha’s chest.

“I don’t want to freeze to death,” Jensen announced. Then he added, much more quietly, “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” Misha hummed, not about to embarrass Jensen any further. “Goodnight, tiny dragon.”

In response, Jensen bit him lightly in the chest. Misha flinched, but he quickly got over the pinch and instead smiled happily, cuddling the dragon a little closer.

After a quick breakfast of bread and cheese – just cheese for Jensen – they were off again. Jensen was still sickly cold. Or, Misha suspected, he was just more aware of it now that he knew how warm he could be. So whenever Misha had Justine slow down to not over-exert her, Jensen would crawl out of the bag and relocate to wrap himself around Misha’s neck. Every now and then, Misha would reach up and pet Jensen’s head or rub along his tail. He just couldn’t help himself. And Jensen didn’t shake him off.

“This is weird,” Jensen commented at some point. “But I’ve gotta admit it feels good.”

Misha smiled and continued kneading Jensen’s tail. “You’ve obviously never studied dragons.”

“Can’t say I’ve gotten the chance,” Jensen replied, purring a little when Misha pressed down harder. “How come you did?”

Misha’s face lit up at the fond memory now resurfacing. “Do you want the long story or the short version?”

Jensen nuzzled his head against Misha’s collarbone. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

“Right,” Misha laughed softly. “You know how on solstice, Krampus brings some very, very special elf kids a present?”

“Doesn’t he just mostly whip the naughty ones?” Jensen asked.

“Yeah, whatever. Presents.” Misha stopped petting Jensen so he could gesticulate with his hands. “So my grandpa decided to help me and my brother out by building a trap for him. But instead of Krampus, we caught a dragon.”

“You were gonna trap Krampus?” Jensen’s voice had risen slightly. “Are you crazy? That thing is said to have claws. And a poisonous bite.”

“And presents,” Misha emphasized. “Weren’t you listening?” He smirked though. Misha had learned a lot from his grandpa. Like staring into the face of danger and facing it head on to reap the rewards. Even if Krampus was imaginary. As a kid, he’d been willing to go to battle with the creature, just to finally have a present for his brother and him. He’d mostly been thinking of his younger brother though.

“So you caught a dragon?” Jensen asked. “Did you think it was Krampus?”

“Don’t be silly,” Misha waved it off. “Everyone knows Krampus has the head of a wildebeest, the body of a werewolf and a scorpion’s tail. There’s no wings in that mix. That would be much too scary for the kids.”

“Yeah…” Jensen commented dryly. “The wings would be too much.”

Misha laughed. “Anyway. The dragon was hurt and we had to nurse it back to health. That’s when I learned about the body heat.” And as he was saying it, Misha resumed stroking up and down Jensen’s tail. “And then… someone came along who could speak to the dragon and ever since, I really wanted to be able to talk with them as well.”

Jensen was silent for a while. “That’s nice,” he finally said. “That you wanted to learn.”

“Hmm.” Misha looked up at the horizon. He really missed his grandpa.

“So are there many others out there who speak… Wormtongue?” Jensen asked with a twinge of hope in his voice.

“You mean besides the dragons?” Misha deflected the answer.

“Yeah.” Jensen moved around on Misha’s neck, feeling restless. “How many other elves are out there? How many… humans?”

“Uhm,” Misha bit his lip. “I know of just the one other elf. The one who taught me.”

“Jared?” Jensen asked.

“Mm.” Misha didn’t really want to relive this right now, not after all the fond memories of his grandpa had resurfaced. Mostly Jared had used his skills to send dragons on errands for him, finding and fetching rare herbs. Misha simply wanted to chat with them, as they’d always fascinated him. The treatment of dragons had been one of the issues they clashed over.

“So…” Jensen prodded, “What’s the story here?“

Misha sighed. They had to come to this eventually. “After he saved our dragon, he kind of kept in touch. And when I decided to pursue magic and couldn’t find a willing teacher, I went and asked him.” Begging had been more like it. But Misha hadn’t had many options. In part, he was still grateful that Jared had accepted him at all. Even if it hadn’t been for a long time, Misha had accumulated a vast array of knowledge in the limited time given. “I was his apprentice for about a year.” Misha sighed. It was best to just throw it out there. “I thought we could be more, but that failed spectacularly.”

“You were his apprentice and still he slept with you?” Jensen deduced quickly. He sounded outraged. “That’s wrong!” He nuzzled his head against Misha’s chin.

Misha smiled softly. “It was mutual. Don’t worry.”

It seemed like Jensen wanted to say more, but he stayed silent for a while. “How old is he anyway?” He asked eventually.

Misha chuckled. “Much older than he looks.”

And this concluded their talk on the topic. Misha reflected back on his year with Jared, old wounds ripped open again. They’d only slept together in the last two months of his apprenticeship. At that point, Misha had hoped it would fix their already strained relationship, but it just made it worse. It hadn’t all been bad though. The sex at least had been awesome.

For the rest of their journey they stayed on lighter topics, chatting about their families, jobs and past trysts as well as random things like favourite foods. Jensen admitted that he’d always wanted to travel but had never really found the heart to leave his hometown. Misha had to admit that at some point, he’d like to settle down again, have roots somewhere. The more they talked, the more comfortable they felt on their journey and before they knew it, they’d reached their destination. Lafayette.

When they came upon Jared’s mansion, everything suddenly happened all at once. Too fast for Misha to react. Jared must have been expecting them, because the second Misha dismounted his horse, Jared was there, arms raised and shouting a spell. Before Misha had any chance to counter-act, he found himself enveloped in a quickly building ice prison. Just as it was about to enclose him completely, he heard a frantic shout from Jensen and suddenly, Jensen was crashing into him, clinging to his body as the ice closed up all around them.

“Dammit, Jensen!” Misha clutched onto the dragon. He barely had room to turn in a circle. “Why’d you do that? Now we’re both gonna die in here!”

“Couldn’t…” Jensen’s teeth chattered. “Couldn’t let you die alone.” Jensen climbed up Misha’s body and settled around his neck again, sighing when he came in direct contact with Misha’s skin. “Besides, aren’t dragons supposed to be able to spew fire? I’m gonna melt this thing down and save your ass.”

Misha reached up to stroke him. “You’re such an idiot,” he sighed, rubbing faster to keep the dragon warm all the while thinking of a way out of here. All of his herbs and potions were still in his saddlebags and he was just not good enough of a wizard to break out without the help of either.

Jensen moved again, perching on Misha’s shoulder and facing the wall. He took a few deep breaths and then blew them out again, getting increasingly frustrated. Misha realized he was actually trying to breathe fire. And hey, crazier things had happened.

“Ok,” Misha coached, “From what I learned, to spew fire you need to reach deep down and find the gland that produces some kind of acid. And then press it out through your teeth. The friction ignites it.”

Jensen paused his efforts to look at Misha. “You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

“Says the man cursed into dragon-form and stuck in an ice prison with a half-magic elf.” Misha raised his eyebrows.

Jensen laughed until a full-body shiver made him stop. “Alright. Crazy it is.” He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Misha could see his collar stand up and the next time Jensen breathed out, the tiniest of flames emerged from his snout.

“Yes! You can do it, Jensen!” Misha encouraged him, and on each try the flame Jensen created burned brighter and longer, only increasing in strength until he was breathing such an impressive amount of flame that Misha had to shield his face.

The only problem was, it didn’t cause a damage big enough. Sure, the ice started melting where his flame was directed, but the prison was so thick, it would take them at least a full day to break out. And Misha wasn’t sure Jensen had that long.

After a while, he’d exhausted himself and curled up around Misha’s neck again. Misha rubbed some warmth back into his tail. “Get some rest. We’ll break it next time.” He didn’t mention that he could already see the melted water freeze right back up again. Poor Jensen. He'd risked his life to safe Misha and now he was paying the price. Jensen couldn’t even reply anymore, he just lay there curled around Misha, wheezing and panting heavily. Misha sighed and pressed a small kiss on top of his snout. “Thank you.”

Jensen’s eyes flew up at the contact. “Misha, I feel weird,” he announced right before there was a bright flash of light and Misha was suffocated for a second before the ice prison broke from the combined pressure of two large bodies pressing against it: Misha’s – and Jensen’s.

They landed on the ground in a heap and Misha saw Jared run out of his mansion towards the two of them. He raised his hands protectively to ward off any new magic he might throw at them, but Jared did no such thing.

“Well look at that,” Jared walked around them to inspect the damage. The ice had broken off into large shards. “Told you a kiss would break the curse.” He smirked. “You’re welcome.” He flourished.

“What?” Jensen sat up, covering his junk with his hands.

“True love’s kiss. That’s how the curse was designed. For what it’s worth, I never intended for any of this to happen, but Danneel was mine.” Jared took off his robe and handed it to Jensen.

“What?” Jensen and Misha both repeated in unison.

Jared sighed. “Get dressed, come in, I’ll fill you in.” He turned and walked back to his mansion.

Jensen just sat there, looking at Misha in confusion. “Is he serious? He traps us in an ice prison and now he’s, what? Making us tea?”

“If we’re lucky,” Misha replied. He shrugged. Jared was not a bad guy. Sure, egomaniacal and an asshole but he wasn’t a dark wizard. At least that’s what Misha had thought until today. Then again, the ice prison hadn’t killed him. And so far, there’d been no new curses thrown at them. Jensen was human again, in fact. Misha looked at him just as Jensen was stepping into the robe. He bit his lip. What a fine looking human specimen he was; and definitely not tiny.

Jensen helped Misha get up and they followed Jared into his mansion. Where tea was waiting for them. Misha eyed it cautiously, but Jared rolled his eyes. “Mish, if I wanted you dead, trust me, you’d be dead.”

Misha and Jensen sat down at the table, both refusing to drink the tea until Jared took a sip himself. “Alright. Talk,” Misha prompted.

“Danneel was my betrothed,” Jared started, holding up a hand when Jensen was about to protest. “It was a deal arranged long ago between her parents and mine. I never intended to make good on it until recently, when I’ve been feeling… lonely.” Jared shrugged. “But in any case, I definitely wasn’t gonna let her run off with a filthy human.”

“Hey!” Jensen protested. “At least I wouldn’t have forced Danneel to do anything she didn’t want.”

Jared sighed, turning the mug around in his hand. “Yeah, listen… I’m not a bad guy. I was ready to concede. Maybe even to you. That’s why you got the tailored curse. All you had to do was stay, kiss Danneel, and if it was true love, well, all’s well that ends well. Even I wouldn’t have stood in the way of true love.”

Jensen frowned. When he'd woken up as a dragon, Danneel had freaked out and chased him off. But truth be told, he was happy to flee. He hadn’t wanted to burden her with this, and he wouldn’t feel comfortable being vulnerable around her. He’d never have slept on a pillow in front of her bed, like he did at Misha’s.

“The ice prison though?” Misha threw in with a glare.

Jared smiled brightly. “Worked, didn’t it?” He winked. “I admit that I got curious after our second chat. I didn’t know you’d progressed this far, Mish. It was kinda impressive. So I wanted to see what else you’d try to break my curse. I was a bit disappointed you didn’t come up with anything more creative than seek me out in person, but then, you never were a star pupil.”

“Fuck you,” Misha replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And my name is Misha.”

Jared flashed another smile. “Either way, Mish, you should really be thanking me.”

“Thank you for what? Almost killing me?” Misha was exasperated.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Jared pouted. “True love’s kiss. I could see you bonding on your journey but I know you, Misha. You’re a stubborn moron and in denial of ever needing another person. That’s the true reason you left me, isn’t it? You couldn’t deal with needing me to teach you and take care of you in bed.”

Misha’s mouth opened and closed a few times. The ego on Jared. He just couldn’t. “If that’s what lets you sleep at night.” He shook his head.

“Wait,” Jensen interjected. “I still don’t understand this. You spied on us?”

Jared sighed exasperatedly. “I can see through bird’s eyes. That also covers dragons.” He gave Misha a pointed look, as if that was another fact to devalue dragons.

“You saw through my eyes?” Jensen wrapped his arms around himself. “I feel violated,” he muttered.

Jared winked. “I could see how you looked at him, which parts you focused on. And of course I couldn’t miss the lovelorn look on Mish’s face here. So really, you should be thanking me.”

Misha covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly. He just couldn’t do this. And he shouldn’t have to. Decidedly, he got up, grabbing Jensen’s hand and dragging him up with him. “We’ll be leaving now. Goodbye, and hope to never see you again.”

Jensen seemed to be in a state of shock, but he followed Misha outside, their fingers tangling together naturally.

“Wait! You still haven’t thanked me yet!” Jared yelled after them, but he only followed them as far as his doorstep.

“Consider me not reporting you thanks enough.” Misha bit out without another glance backwards. He led Jensen back to their horse, ignoring all the shattered ice still littering the garden. Justine wouldn’t be able to carry them both but maybe they’d make it to Jensen’s place on foot. And then… Misha bit his lip, really looking at Jensen for the first time since the curse broke. His eyes were a deep shade of green with specks of amber thrown in, and right now they were shining as Jensen held Misha’s gaze.

“True love’s kiss?” Jensen asked. “But I’ve only known you for what, four days now?”

Misha shrugged. Yet he’d been willing to sacrifice his life for Misha’s and if Misha was honest, he’d have gladly died in the ice prison on his own if it meant keeping Jensen safe. “It’s… it’s an old curse breaker. Best not think about it too deeply.” Misha reached out to brush his fingers through Jensen’s hair, but stopped himself. “In any case, it doesn’t have to mean anything. I won’t hold you to it. You can just go back to your old life and pretend this never happened.”

“What if I don’t want to go back to my old life?” Jensen asked, flicking up Misha’s collar so his neck was covered. Misha had taken to rolling it down so Jensen could reach more of his skin for body warmth. Misha smiled at the memory.

“You’re welcome to join me on my travels for a bit,” Misha offered. “I found out life on the road is great for figuring out your place in life.”

“Yeah?” Jensen challenged. “And where would your place in life be right now?”

Misha didn’t want to say ‘by your side’, because Jensen was right. Four days. But he sure felt it. Instead he shrugged, grabbed Jensen by the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. A real one this time, lips to lips, no snouts involved. And it was great. They both smiled when they broke apart, Jensen resting his forehead against Misha’s.

“Just so we’re clear though, in no way, shape or form will we ever thank that bastard wizard or tell anyone about this, right?” Jensen asked.

Misha chuckled. “What wizard? Far as I’m concerned, I’m the only wizard we both know.”

“Good.” Jensen nodded and then his lips found Misha’s again. “You know what though?” Jensen mumbled in between kissing down Misha’s neck. “I think I’m still part dragon. I’m desperately craving body heat.”

Misha laughed against his skin. “I can help with that. As soon as we’re far enough away though.”

Jensen cringed. “And under a roof with no birds.”

“Don’t ruin it,” Misha shuddered, cupping Jensen’s cheek and placing another soft kiss against his lips. They laced hands and wandered off into the village to find a place to stay for the night. “I’ll miss petting my tiny dragon though,” Misha admitted on the way.

Jensen shoved him playfully. “Did I say you can’t pet me anymore?”

In response, Misha curled his hand around Jensen’s nape and caressed his soft hairs.

Instead of purring, like the dragon might have, Jensen just moaned in pleasure. And Misha decided that having human Jensen around was even better than the tiny red dragon. He could get used to this.

Like Bunnies (Mishalecki, AU, R)

2015-12-27T14:57:55Z

Title: Like Bunnies
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jared/Misha, college AU
Rating: R(-ish)
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 1.900
Warnings: none
Summary: Misha pretends to be Jared's boyfriend for one party and it gets them thinking.
Author’s Note: Written for emmatheslayer as part of the spn_j2_xmas exchange. My initial idea didn't quite move along, so I wrote a new one. (In case you were wondering and now disappointed re: my question.) Hope you like it!

=> AO3 <=

“Tell me again why I’m agreeing to this?” Misha groaned when Jared dragged him along towards the frat house.

“Because you love me?” Jared offered.

Misha snorted, but then he grinned at Jared. “Only for tonight, baby.” He made kissy-faces at his friend.

“We’ll see,” Jared mumbled under his breath.

“What?” Misha perked up. “Jared. You begged me to pretend to be your boyfriend for one night. One night only.” And he really must love his roommate, because there is no way he’d go to a stupid frat party otherwise. He hated frat parties. And frat houses. And frat members in general. Dumb sheeple, all of them. He’d better not lose Jared to them come next semester. Administration had paired them up to share a room randomly, but they’d quickly bonded over their love for old English poetry - and modern scifi. And a whole lot more.

“I know,” Jared wheedled. “But ever since I officially came out as bi, I can’t go anywhere without getting bombarded with offers.”

Misha narrowed his eyes. “Oh, woe is you. Other people would be glad to have your problem. You’re a freshman, you’re supposed to enjoy this.”

“But it’s creepy.” Jared sighed. “The other day, the head cheerleader offered me a threesome, because she really wants to see her boyfriend getting fucked. I don’t think he even knew she was offering.”

Misha laughed so hard, he had to stop to catch his breath for a moment. Wiping tears out of his eyes, he shook his head. “Seriously, Jare, you’re a better man than me. I’d have jumped on that.” He snickered. “Literally.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Jared pouted, calling him out on his bullshit. Misha was all talk, but he didn’t sleep around either. Jared would know. When Misha wasn’t in his room reading, he was doing research in the library, scouting for the most noble cause he could join in on or doing yoga at the gym. – Not like Jared was stalking him, or anything. He just happened to notice.

They started walking again. Misha could hear the music pounding and he was getting a headache already. “So, I pretend tonight and then what? What happens at the next party?”

“I’ll just say you have to study. Or tell them the truth: That you’re a lame party-hater but I love you anyway.” Jared winked.

“And around campus? I do happen to also go here, you know?” Misha waved his arm to encompass the area.

“You’re not into PDA. But you more than make up for it once we’re in our room, where we fuck like bunnies every time the door closes.” Jared smiled.

“You have this all mapped out, haven’t you?” Misha had to admit that the plan seemed flawless. And with how things had been going so far, neither of them was anywhere close to meeting the right boy or girl. And if that happened, they could always ‘break up’. “I do concede. This is a brilliant plan, Dr. P.”

“Dr. P?” Jared questioned.

“What else would your super villain name be?” Misha questioned and with the topic changed, they bantered about it until they reached the party.

But just as they were about to enter, Misha held Jared back one last time. “You know what though?” Misha leaned down to whisper. “It would be pretty fucking awesome if we hooked up. I mean, think about it. No annoying roommates to navigate around. We really could be fucking like bunnies. All. The. Time.”

Jared was rooted to the spot, mouth wordlessly opening and closing like a fish out of water. Which was about how he felt right now. Totally out of his depth with Misha having to drag him inside by their joined hands.

Jared grabbed the first red cup he could find and downed the alcohol within. Unfortunately, it wasn’t beer and it burned going down. He made a face and had to fight hard not to embarrass himself with a coughing fit.

“Dude.” Misha raised his eyebrow. “If one of those creeps you need me to fend off ever hands you a drink, promise me you won’t do that.”

Jared blushed but before he had a chance to feel even more stupid, one of the guys from his team came over to drag him to where they were standing. He interlaced his fingers with Misha’s and just dragged him along, introducing him loudly as his boyfriend to everyone who would listen to him.

Slowly, his confidence returned and he ended up talking shop with the guys. He didn’t even notice that Misha rarely joined in until Misha tugged on his hand until Jared let go.

“Since mentally stabbing me in the eye didn’t work, I’m gonna go grab a drink. Or find someone to complete my lobotomy so I can join in on your rousing discussions of NBA player stats.” Misha was speaking in a low volume so only Jared could hear him. “You’re good, right?” He added earnestly before he made good on his words and left after Jared confirmed.

Jared watched him go, appreciating how well Misha’s jeans hugged his ass. He almost missed David congratulating him on his ‘great catch’: “That dude is in a yoga class with Sarah, man. Score!” Jared accepted the high-five but then drowned out the rest of the conversation about bendiness, stamina and tantric sex. Not because it might be disrespectful to Misha – but because he was having trouble not to picture Misha in various interesting positions and he got uncomfortably hard in his pants.

The party raged on and Misha didn’t return with his drink. After a while, Jared left his buddies to go look for him and ended up finding him deep in conversation with Tahmoh, the captain of the swimming team. Misha was talking animatedly, grinning brightly and they were just standing way too fucking close together; Tahmoh leaning down into Misha’s space especially.

Jared crushed his thankfully empty cup and was about to storm over and make a scene, when he remembered that they weren’t actually dating. And even though Misha had agreed to play his boyfriend for tonight, Jared couldn’t be a total ass and screw his friend out of a potentially real hook-up. Much as the thought pained him.

He didn’t feel like going back to his team though and instead stayed in the room, pretending not to watch Misha but be interested in the trophies and pictures on the wall. Just as he was feeling too much like a sad loser, Katie saved him by saying hello and giving him a legitimate reason to stay in the room – and keep sneaking glances at Misha.

Unbeknownst to Jared, Misha had noticed Jared’s presence a while ago. But Misha was too amused at his poorly veiled attempt to not watch him to save him from his misery. Besides, Jared deserved to suffer after he completely ignored him earlier that night. And who knew Tahmoh would be so much fun to chat with? Misha had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to recruit him for his house next year to raise diversity, but he’d also read Lord of the Rings, not just watched the movies, which scored him major points in Misha’s book.

But the longer Jared stuck around, the more distracted Misha became. At first he thought Jared was just being a good friend, letting Misha flirt, but that didn’t explain why he stayed. And why Jared’s mood seemed to turn from sour to worse.

However, when a pretty blonde showed up, Jared’s glances became less and less frequent. Instead he seemed to really get into it with the girl. Misha frowned. He should let Jared be, right? If she fell in the ‘creep’ category Jared was so wary of, he’d have sought out Misha’s help actively by now, wouldn’t he? And why did it bother him so much when she touched Jared’s arm in such a blatantly obvious way?

It had to be their earlier conversation. Misha just couldn’t shake it. The possibilities. And hell if they weren’t compatible partners. They were basically a couple already, all that was missing was the sex. And that seemed like a stupid oversight on both their parts, from where Misha was standing right now.

He’d seen Jared exit the shower enough times to know that he’d definitely have fun licking those abs – if only they weren’t his roommate’s. And he was basically salivating every time Jared would change in front of him. It took a lot of restraint to act unaffected. Thankfully, he was well trained in breathing exercises and achieving piece of mind.

Misha looked up at Tahmoh, finally realizing just how close they were standing; and that Tahmoh was definitely flirting right back. And he hadn’t noticed nor did he particularly care at the moment. What he did care about was Katie’s hand on Jared’s arm.

And fuck it. If Jared got mad, Misha could always say that he acted just like Jared told him to. He was the boyfriend for tonight and that girl had no right to encroach on his territory.

“Excuse me.” He apologized to Tahmoh and then stormed over, pushing Jared apart from the girl and repeating his apology, albeit in a different tone of voice. “Excuse me. That’s my boyfriend you are flirting with.”

“What?” The girl looked confused. “Since when?”

Misha looked at Jared to gauge his reaction. Their gazes locked for a minute and then Jared broke out in a bright smile. “Since tonight,” Jared replied, pulling Misha in for a kiss.

Misha responded, kissing Jared back like he meant it and Jared let himself believe. He buried his hand in Misha’s hair and deepened the kiss, happy that his desperate plan apparently worked and Misha was just as jealous as Jared had been.

Jared’s last doubts were laid to rest when Misha pushed him up against the wall, his leg coming up to wrap around Jared’s waist, rubbing their cocks together and generally trying to get closer. Jared responded by helping Misha up and turning them around so he could anchor Misha against the wall. A picture frame fell but the sound of it shattering didn’t distract them from thrusting their hips together in a desperate attempt to get off quick.

“Jesus fuck, you guys. Get a room!” Someone was yelling next to them and Jared finally remembered that they had not magically been transported back to their dorm but were in fact making out in a very public place. He reluctantly set Misha back down and after one last nibble at his bottom lip, turned around and faced their audience.

“We have a room,” Jared announced happily, then, looking only at Misha again, he repeated it in awe: “We have a room.”

“Like bunnies,” Misha replied with a wink and Jared didn’t waste another second. He interlaced their hands again and dragged Misha back to their dorm so they could finish what they started. And then start again, because nobody would be stopping them and they had nowhere else to be. Shacking up with Misha in all senses of the word would be so awesome!

PurCon: Misha Panel & VIP M&G

2015-06-09T21:08:11Z

I'll be making two posts about the con I've been to this weekend. Purgatory in Germany. It was a smaller con with only five guests and Misha was only there on Saturday, but then agreed to sign autographs on Friday already as well as have a special kind of meet and greet called "Cocktails with Castiel".

This was one of the biggest rip-offs I've ever spend money on. Don't get me wrong: totally NOT Misha's fault. But they sold 100 tickets and had at least 20 small tables, if not more. We were four people at our table. Since Misha had an hour for this, imagine how much time he got to spend at each table... We had about two minutes. He was just starting to chat, when he got pulled away again. He visited some tables twice, but since he started with ours, no such luck. We also didn't get the one drink that - according to Facebook - was supposed to be included. But the two girls at our table were pretty nice and we had a lovely chat. But I'd never book this again.

Anyway. We were joking about how there were no cocktails and neither did we get Castiel and Misha was flustered and apologized. (My friend was just trying to get him to use his Cas voice and that's just what we Germans do. Nitpick. I hope we didn't actually make him feel bad.) But then I pointed to my Cas!Zepellin shirt and said "I brought Cas" and he smirked and said something along the lines of 'see?' and then "btw, I like your shirt". Heeeeh. :)

He just generally looked so damn good. I told him at the autographs that he looked well rested (because I didn't know how to phrase "super tan & fucking beautiful") and he said he doesn't feel well rested, but good if he looks the part. - Random fact about me: I never know what to say at autographs. At a previous con I told him he looked very tired. *facepalm*

I was gonna live tweet his panel, but he sat so close and he kept looking over that I felt weird about it. To explain some of the pictures: he got a girl on stage to fan the emcee. She fanned Misha instead and he told her 'noo, this guy' so then she alternated between him and the emcee. (The emcee also fanned Misha at some point.) It turned out the girl was from the States, so Misha felt less bad for putting a fellow America to work. A lot of people asked him for hugs and he deflected it pretty well the first time (If I'm gonna hug you, I need to hug everybody and then it takes a lot of time away from your questions") but then the next girl said how much he means to her and yadda yadda and also asked for a hug, so he gave up and hugged his way through the queue. At the end of the panel, some girl just stormed the stage - to no intervention at all (I hope the organizers never get Jensen. Never!) - and just demanded a hug. RUDE. But Misha stayed cool ("Oh look, she's coming up here. Ok...") and hugged her as well.

Some girl in the panel room also had a very realistic looking prop gun, if you saw some of the pics. It dropped in Misha's way. At first I thought it was the security guard's gun. Which, with the security at this con, it very well might have been. But I don't think the security folk even carried pepper spray. Misha also took this with humor, but he said that at a US con, this very well might have been a real gun and he might just get shot, so, honestly, I don't think the panel went all that well...

But anyhow. Someone asked about what tattoo he would get, IF he would get one and he answered with "but who says I don't already have some" or something in a serious voice. But the girl didn't press. Ngh. I bet he has at least one tattoo somewhere. He then told us all about the white tiger Vicki wants to get because at a 10 day silent retreat they went to together, she had a vision of a white tiger crawling out of her back (? or something) and West is born in the year of the white tiger... no, that wasn't it. Under the sign of? Something a Chinese woman told them, which is pretty rare and then he randomly got a fanart of Vicky in front of a mural of a white tiger, so Vicki wants that significant white tiger on her back. Misha wants a sockeye salmon. Or sermon. I did not actually get that. He told us how him and his best friend almost died and they carried a salmon someone gifted them with just before. Which sounded super weird, so I'm thinking he might have said sermon? Ugh, someone probably got that better than me. (Sockeye because that's what West insisted on calling Maison and so they all called her that for the first two years of her life.)

And as I am typing this, I google "sockeye salmon" and this is a real fish. So nevermind me. lol. Sockeye salmon it is.

And it's getting late, so let me jump to the meet & greet. (Not the €249 one, but the one included in the VIP pass.) Misha sat down right next to me, and again I was thrown by how handsome he is. Like, seriously. So I forgot what smalltalk he made at first. When he asked "so, are there any questions?" Corinna and me shouted "YES" in unison, because we'd promised a friend to ask about the s10 finale script. Has it been re-written last minute? Misha was confused about this and said no, not to his knowledge and wanted to know where we heard about this. We explained that it might just be an internet rumor and he said 'probably'. He had no idea. Then Corinna said we were worried about Cas. (Misha talked about directing a movie next and how he'd like to direct an episode of Supernatural again but there were no plans as of yet. This all sounded very low-Cas to us.) Misha joked that Castiel's gonna die next season. And also, Crowley's gonna die. And Lucifer is coming back. And seriously, Cas is gonna die. Then he smirked and said he's not really gonna tell us anything, all he can say is that Cas will make the transition between season 10 and season 11. So he will be in season 11. He doesn't know if he'll be in 11x01 yet. (I assume it'll be like s10, with him randomly popping up here and there.) He also assured us that Castiel will be fine, because he's such a beloved character. I think. Or that might have just been our table after he left, but I'm 90% sure Misha himself said 'don't worry, Castiel is safe'. (Which, again, doesn't mean we'll get to see him, just that they won't kill him.)

As he was about to leave, a girl quickly asked how Maison and West are and he smiled and told us that Maison just learned to swim last week and they were all really happy about it.

And I'm getting cramped so I'll end this for today. I'll probably remember 25.000 other things as soon as I send this off. As much as this con failed in some aspects, it was really awesome to actually spend time with Misha again. He doesn't do the M&Gs at Rogue anymore and his coffee lounges are a hit and miss I'm not risking anymore.

Here be pictures: LJ Scrapbook - Misha panel

I didn't work with them, just resized. I changed a few for twitter, but not here. Some are really frigging yellow and others are too pale. Feel free to spruce them up and re-post them elsewhere. No credit neccessary! I'd post some on tumblr if I knew how it worked. lol. If anyone wants originals, just tell me.

Convention Pictures: Asylum 14

2015-05-25T20:02:40Z

I haven't actually sorted through convention pictures in a long time, but that's since mine were mostly crap. - They're still not the best, I've only had a good seat for a few Asylum panels, but I still uploaded what I had that wasn't blurry. I was mostly lucky with the final panel, when Jared got Genevieve to join him on stage. :)

So if anyone's interested:

Jared Panel
Jared & Gen
J3 Panel
Jensen Panel
Misha (with Jared and Orlando)
the others, mostly Travis, Tim & Curtis

Alternatively, just go HERE.

We only ever got one panel with everyone due to the two halls system. So by Sunday, when I finally had time to see some, we didn't get Misha, Jensen or JDM at all. (JDM left a day early, so that wasn'r REs sheduling.)

Dirty Waters (J2, AU, R)

2015-02-09T19:43:36Z

Title: Dirty Waters
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, AU
Rating: R for implied violence
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 4.500
Warnings: implied graphic violence; see summary
Summary: In order to appear more normal, Jensen decides Jared would make the perfect boyfriend - so he can continue being the nice librarian - and not the psychopathic serial killer he actually is. But he clearly underestimated Jared and the effect he would have on him.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on chomaisky’s art prompt located here.

=> AO3 <=

Chapter One: Smile, the worst is yet to come.

“I don’t understand,” she wept, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Oh honey,” Jensen stroked a gentle hand over her forehead. “It’s your eyes. They’re just too stunning to pass up.”

More tears rolled down her cheeks. She had long since given up struggling against her bonds. “Please… If you untie me, I promise I won’t run. I can… I can make this better for you. I’d be willing, you know?”

Jensen raised his eyebrows. Bargaining? How cute. He had to give her credit though. Stronger men had been complete blubbering messes at this point. He chuckled and wiped her tears away with his thumbs . “Oh, Sophia. I’m sorry, but you’re hardly my type at all.”

She blinked. “But you said…”

“It’s your eyes I want, not you.” With that he reached for his scalpel again and Sophia started screaming.

***

One look at the clock confirmed it was almost time. Jensen smiled, anticipating his next customer. At seven p.m. on the dot the doors opened and Jared waltzed in, going straight to his desk.

“Jensen. Hey.” Jared gave him a bright smile, showing off his dimples.

“Jared,” Jensen nodded in acknowledgement and looked down with a practised shy smile.

“I’ve got some returns for you.” Jared dropped a stack of books on the desk and pushed them in Jensen’s direction like an offering.

“Return box is over there.” Jensen pointed, knowing full well Jared knew where it was. After all, this was their usual spiel.

“I know,” Jared winked and lingered a little longer, waiting until Jensen looked up at him, holding his gaze. Jared’s smile grew brighter. “Well then. It was nice seeing you, Jensen.”

“Jared.” Jensen bit back a grin of his own when Jared turned to rifle through the shelves. He’d surely be back with some made-up questions later and then once more when he made Jensen scan his new materials personally, because he didn’t trust the self-service machine they put up a few months ago. Sometimes he wondered if Jared even read half of the volumes he walked out of here with each week.

He reached for his smart phone and opened up the Cupid app. ’You look nice tonight. Pink suits you.’

‘I dressed up for you. Glad it worked. ;)’ Came the reply only a minute later. And then, ’How’re my pants? Not too tight?’

Jensen grinned when Jared’s ass was suddenly in his line of vision as he bent down to get something from low on the shelf close to his desk. It was the travel section. Jared would not check out anything from it, he never did.

’Perfect.’ He texted back, adding a blushing emoticon for good measure.

Jared’s reply came in person when he straightened back up, sending a blinding smile and another wink in Jensen’s direction before slinking back off towards the crime division, making sure to sway his hips seductively.

Jensen bit his lip, watching him and wondering just what exactly he had signed up for here.

***

At first, he hadn’t been all too pleased when Jared had started showing up at his place of work. He’d long since made it a rule not to kill where he lived - but Jared’s eyes would make such a lovely addition to his collection. So, so lovely… Hence he’d seen it as unnecessary teasing on Jared’s part, especially when he kept coming by week after week. But then Kristen, his way-too-perky co-worker had started making fun of his secret admirer and why didn’t he just go for it? And Jensen realized that: yes. Why didn’t he?

He’d done an extensive background check on Jared and he was entirely harmless. He might come in here to check out crime novels and serious forensic compendiums, but he was probably just trying to write his own story and not join the police force. In fact, he was writing for a living - the engagements & marriages section of the local newspaper. Coupled with his flaunty pastel & floral prints style to dress himself and his whole happy-go-lucky attitude, he’d make the perfect boyfriend. Then Jensen wouldn’t be ‘that guy’ anymore. The ‘I dunno, he was always nice to his neighbors, but nobody ever visited him and he just always seemed a little off and like too much of a loner to me, officer. So yes, I definitely find him suspicious.” No, he’d be the friendly gay neighbor with the adorable boyfriend and no, he surely couldn’t harm a fly.

His research also told him that Jared was trying out online dating – he’d complained about it on his open Facebook profile – so Jensen had downloaded the app mentioned and signed up himself. Admittedly, he didn’t only pretend to be the shy, unassuming library nerd. He actually had no clue how to go about this thing with Jared. Jensen knew how to score hook-ups when he felt like it and he knew how to sweet-talk his victims, but Jared would be neither. So really, he was at a loss. And so far, neither of them had actually acknowledged their little chats when they met in person.

It turned out, Jensen was in luck, and Jared went there for him.

***

“Excuse me, sir, I have a question.” Jared came back to his desk as expected.

“Yes, Jared?” Jensen’s fingers were already poised over the keyboard, ready to type in the author or topic he’d come up with this time.

“A small, friendly restaurant around here to take somebody on a first date to. Preferably Italian.” Jared bounced on his heels, expression sheepish.

“What?” Jensen’s fingers twitched, not getting to do the expected typing.

“You’re the information desk, right?” Jared asked. “So. I’m looking for a nice restaurant around here to take…”

”I heard you the first time,” Jensen interrupted him, refraining for telling him that he wasn’t technically the ‘information desk’, he was in fact here maintaining the library software he’d written while also helping out with more mundane tasks when he felt like it. But he knew Jared didn’t mean to insult him. Jared meant to… meant to, what? Jensen started, suddenly getting it. “Mancini’s is good. It’s just two blocks down.”

“Great, thanks.” Jared nodded, turning to leave. But just as Jensen’s face was starting to fall, he turned back around. “Meet you there tomorrow at eight?” Jared asked hopefully.

Jensen gave it a small pause to not seem too eager. “Ok.” He flashed a smile and then looked back down. “Anything else I can help you with tonight, Jared?”

“Nope. I’m fine.” Jared knocked on the desk twice. “Splendid, actually. Thank you for your invaluable help, Jensen.” And then he added in a softer voice, “See you tomorrow.” With another smile thrown in his direction, Jared left the library without getting any books for the first time since Jensen met him.

***

Chapter Two: I’m gonna leave you anyway.

It went smoothly after the first date. Jensen, of course, had been prepared for Jared’s interests and hobbies, but he didn’t have to fake too much. They had a scary amount of things in common, right down to growing up in Texas. Jared’s childhood had been a lot happier than Jensen’s though. Not like Jensen divulged any of it. As far as anyone was concerned, he’d been adopted after bouncing around in different foster homes first, yes – not much he could really fake here without getting tangled up in a web of lies at some point later on – but he was grateful for the family he had and that was the end of it.

Truth was, in retrospect he was grateful that he’d been bounced around so much as a young child, because like this, he‘d learned to pretend early on and nobody saw the signs and put two and two together. Sure, he was a weird kid and he drew disturbing images, but who knew what happened in his last home? And his violent tendencies were to be expected. By the time he was old enough to be sent to counselling, he’d known which thoughts to best keep to himself and which urges had to be repressed until he was safe enough to let them out without getting caught.

Their third date proved to be a bit of a challenge though. Jensen’s hook-ups, just like his other more pleasant activities, took place out of town, where nobody knew him and he could live out his darker side with more or less experienced partners who didn’t find it weird if the shy librarian was suddenly very demanding. None of them knew his line of work, let alone his real name.

It helped that his programming skills had him travelling the country a lot. His software had become the leading brand for libraries all over and they kept calling him in with his unique expertise. The world was changing and nowadays you needed more knowledge in IT than a Bachelor’s in English Lit to properly run a library. Lucky for him, he had both: said Bachelor’s in English Lit as well as a B.o.S in Computer Science topped off with a Master in International Business.

Jared was equally versatile, as it turned out. He didn’t just stalk Jensen, he actually did his research and was secretly working on a Master’s Degree in Criminal Science with a special interest in Profiling. He hadn’t even shared this with his closest friends and he wasn’t officially signed in yet – which explained why Jensen’s prior online research did not warn him about it. Jared confessed it a few weeks in, when Jensen suggested he didn’t need alibi reasons to come visit him in the library anymore. That week of their first date, when he’d left without any books had actually put a dent in his timetable as he was loathe to admit. Jensen was impressed.

More so, he was intrigued. He knew he should stay as far away as possible after finding out Jared’s ‘secret identity’, but that put their relationship in a whole new light. It wasn’t just a necessity, a means to keep Jensen’s persona intact, it was a whole new game in itself. How far could he push Jared before he grew suspicious? How much of his true identity could he show before Jared would notice something was off?

And Jensen relished in it. Little comments he made, cold, calculating glances thrown in Jared’s way. It got even more thrilling when Jensen moved it to the bedroom. After those awkward first few times when he didn’t know how to behave, how hard Jared could take it, he delighted in the fact that Jared seemed to get off on being manhandled.

It started with a small bite that had Jared moan so much louder than Jensen’s usual soft kisses and had progressed to Jensen holding him down while fucking into him roughly. Jensen was still keeping himself in check, but he was amazed at how much fun he was having with Jared. He’d always assumed having a boyfriend would be a waste of time and energy, but Jared proved him wrong. And best of all, he had still collected his eyes, in a way. They only lit up for him.

***

Chapter Three: Now you’re just somebody that I used to know.

Ever since dating Jared, Jensen had refrained from hooking up with strangers. It just didn’t feel right. He might be a pretender out of necessity, but that didn’t mean he was a cheat. And even in the first few weeks of awkward sex, Jensen still didn’t feel the need for somebody else. After all, his hunts kept him fully satisfied. – He didn’t stop those. Not for Jared, not for anyone.

But there was still Misha.

Misha was his only exception. He wasn’t just a casual hook up never to be seen again. Jensen knew straight away that he’d end up under his knife at some point, but he had just been way too eager to get fucked to pass up on. And Misha was a good sport. He’d actually been under Jensen’s knife multiple times already, but not with the intent to kill.

But now he had Jared. So the next time Jensen was called in to the D.C. area, he knew it was time to break up with Misha.

They met at an abandoned building. Not unusual for them. Misha always got a kick out of pretending to be someone else, making up stories about living in the place, the memories they shared. Jensen usually blocked him out, but this time he decided to indulge him, playing along and making up a story about their first shower together while cuffing him to the pipes.

“You’re different today,” Misha remarked calmly, not straining against the handcuffs. “What changed?”

“I met somebody,” Jensen confessed.

“Oh,” Misha nodded. “You’re not even gonna fuck me first, then?” He looked at the hunting knife Jensen pulled put from under his coat.

Jensen felt mildly put-off that Misha could read him so clearly. “Sorry.”

Misha shrugged. “It’s my only regret.”

Jensen stopped cutting off Misha’s sweater. “Seriously?”

“If I said it was my dying wish, would you fuck me then?” Misha tried.

Jensen had to laugh. “No. But I’ll tell you what, because it’s you, Misha, I’m giving you the choice. Fast or slow?”

“Slow,” Misha replied without hesitation.

Jensen grinned happily and resumed cutting off his clothes, his mind already plotting where to cut into his skin next. “You know, I am actually gonna miss you a little.”

“No, you’re not. But it’s ok.” Misha looked him straight in the eye, gaze unwavering. “I just want you to remember me.”

Jensen cocked his head. He’d never had prey this calm before. Maybe Misha was actually ok with dying. Maybe he’d break in a while. Jensen couldn’t wait to find out. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m gonna keep a memento.” He winked and made his first real cut, straight across Misha’s chest.

A few hours later, Jensen got his answer. Misha had almost been as good a liar as Jensen was. Or maybe even the better liar, seeing how Misha had apparently figured out who Jensen was a long time ago. Still. They all broke, sooner or later.

When it was done, Jensen got the few canisters of lye solution from his car and filled the bathtub with it. This was one of his favourite methods for disposing of the body. He always varied, of course. He varied in his method of killing, too. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t want to get caught. He didn’t need credit either nor was he dumb enough to start a cat and mouse game with the police by sending clues.

The one constant was the eyes. He always took them while they were still alive. He had to, otherwise they’d spoil and the color was ruined forever. And there would be no greater tragedy. No, as soon as they were extracted, he submerged them in a jar filled with formaldehyde to keep them in pristine condition until he could work with them further.

But since this was a constant, he made sure to dispose of the bodies in a way one couldn’t tell the eyes were missing. Hence the lye. Or a garbage disposal, or bashing their heads in before a clean dump. Animals were always awesome to have around. A disposal in a desert area ensured him the missing eyes would get blamed on vultures.

D.C. however was too far away from the desert and too crowded for anything else. Too many cameras around, too. This house was perfect though. Abandoned neighborhood, nobody to hear the screams. Jensen had hacked into the police system and disabled the video feed of the streets on his way here, just to be sure. The perks of studying computer science. He met a lot of hackers eager to show off and picked up a few helpful tricks.

When he was all done, Jensen whistled a happy tune on his way to the car. A clean break. He felt good. Now Jared was the only man in his life.

***

Interlude: Troubled sea so deep, troubled home no sleep.

Jared looked at the headline of his current chapter again. ‘Psychopaths: Just like you and I - except not’. He really had to stop reading this damn book, it was making him nothing if not paranoid. Then again, was it really the book’s fault? He’d felt weird around Jensen for a while now. Mostly, he was the perfect boyfriend. More so, he was a perfect match for Jared. Cute and sweet in every day life, attentive, too, but demanding and almost cruel in the bedroom. And Jared got off on it. Oh, did he ever get off on it.

It was just… the little things.

Like when Jensen almost choked on his food as Jared confessed his real interest in crime, or that one time Jared wondered aloud how anyone could kill another human being and Jensen’s answer had been a casual ‘Because it’s fun?’. Or the times he’d turned around and found Jensen looking at him with a creepy stare. It sent shivers down his spine. Not to mention Jensen’s complete disregard for anyone but Jared. At first it had been endearing and Jared felt special, but soon Jensen’s apparent lack of interest in having friends, not just his casual acquaintances – most of them co-workers – started to bother him.

It was the same with Jensen’s apparent obsession with his eyes. Cute at first, but comments such as ‘Sometimes I want to carve them right out of your skull and mount them to my desk so I can look at them all day’? Not so cute.

So Jared had started research, treating Jensen like the subject of one of the articles he wanted to write – not the fluff they forced on him. A correlation of unsolved murders in cities Jensen visited for work. It wasn’t easy. Sometimes he had to skip a few weeks until the bodies got found. And there was only the tiniest pattern between some of the killings, not all of them. But it would make sense. Jensen was smart. – In theory. Not like he actually indulged the thought that his boyfriend was a serial killer.

Until he discovered the one thing most of the victims had in common: Their recognizable facial features had been destroyed. And Jared suddenly felt sick. There had to be a pattern. Had to be. Serial killers always had a tell, as abstruse as it might be, there had to be something. And that’s when he really recounted the many times Jensen had gazed into his eyes longingly and made comments about them. Aside from mounting them on his desk, Jensen frequently mused how they’d make such a lovely addition to his collection. At first Jared had thought he was talking about his ex-boyfriends, but it was just such an odd way to phrase it. He wanted to ‘play with them’, too.

And then Jared had another scary thought. Jensen’s precious marble collection. He said it was something from his early childhood, a last gift of his mother’s, maybe? Jared couldn’t remember the details. He wasn’t technically forbidden from touching them, it’s just that he never wanted to and it kind of went unspoken that it was off limits. But Jensen wasn’t here now and Jared hadn’t found any secret crooks and crannies in his place. He’d looked. Jensen also wasn’t registered for any storage lockers and he surely wouldn’t keep mementos at the library.

Jared hesitated. Mementos. Trophies. God, he was so far gone. This was silly. Jensen wasn’t a killer. All the bodies were just a coincidence. People got murdered all the time. Statistically speaking, of course Jensen would be in town for them. Didn’t make him the killer.

But. But what if?

He just had to know. And he had a key to Jensen’s apartment. So he went. Once inside, he went straight to Jensen’s bedroom and spotted the bag on the nightstand. He could still back out, could still walk right back out, close the door, leave the apartment and pretend he’d never been here to snoop while Jensen was out for one of those business trips. But he’d come this far.

He picked it up and opened the velvety pouch, pouring some of them into his hand. And immediately pulled his hand away like he’d just gotten burned. The marbles fell to the floor and rolled under Jensen’s bed. Jesus. Eyes. Those had been eyes. Two of each, Jared could tell.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down on the bed and clutched at his stomach. He was gonna be sick. Oh god. What ever was he going to do now?

***

Chapter Four: Do you understand the way we’ll never be the same again?

Jensen was still feeling cheerful when he got back home from his trip. As cheerful as he could be anyway. Misha had been a good kill. It should keep him satisfied for a while. Or at least until his next trip to Chicago, when he’d finally visit Ian. See if his Instagram pictures did him justice or if they were enhanced. Instagram had made his hunts so much easier but sometimes he got nasty surprises.

When he opened his front door, he was surprised to find the lights on – and Jared in his living room. With newspaper clippings and profile pictures of a few of his victims along with some strangers littering his table. And Jensen’s trophy pouch in his hands.

He surveyed the scene calmly. No police present. Jared was looking pale and nervous. Jensen was pretty sure he was clutching a steak knife in the hand hidden behind his back. Smart and dumb at the same time. He should know that he’d never be able to overpower Jensen, not even build as Jared was.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Jensen said as way of greeting.

Jared visibly relaxed. “I’m not… I didn’t… I had to know if it was true.” He put the kitchen knife on the table and took a step back.

Jensen eyed the knife, then Jared, raising his eyebrow. “You know what I am yet you trust me?” This didn’t make sense. He wasn’t Misha. Jared didn’t have a death wish.

“You said you weren’t gonna kill me,” Jared crossed his arms, trying and failing to appear casual.

“And you’re just gonna believe me?” Jensen asked. “Why?”

“You wouldn’t risk it. You don’t know if I already informed the police or my boss or the FBI.” Jared gestured wildly. “The FBI, for fuck’s sake! Because you’ve been killing your way across the country, Jensen! Jesus!” He deflated and started to shake. Jensen suspected a part of Jared had still hoped he was wrong, but Jensen’s behaviour had proven him wrong.

Jensen sighed, moving in and closing his arms around Jared. He might not know what shock was from personal experience, but he knew how to deal with it. “Shh, Jay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Jared resisted him at first, trying to push him away, but then he hugged back with all he got, burying his face in Jensen’s neck and letting out a loud, dry sob. Jensen held him until he stopped shaking, then he slowly disengaged.

“I just don’t understand.” Jared looked at him, big eyes shining with tears, expression hopeful. “What made you this way, Jensen?”

“Why? If I tell you some sob story about having been abused as a child; or maybe I suffered early trauma witnessing my mother being killed? Will that make it better? Will that change things?” Jensen asked.

“Did you?” Jared prodded.

“Will you forgive me if I have a reason for killing, Jay? Would that make it ok in your book? If I just can’t help myself, if I was made that way instead of it just being who I am?” Jensen cocked his head expectantly. He didn’t have an answer to this question. And he wasn’t about to make one up. If there’d been a trauma, he’d successfully repressed it. Jensen had just always been different.

“I…” Jared hiccupped on a sob. “I dunno. Can’t you give me something?”

Jensen knew what he wanted. Jared wanted something to cling onto. A small flicker of hope, something to redeem Jensen of his sins and make it ok for Jared to stay with him. Or better yet, a point to work with to cure him so he wouldn’t have to kill anymore. “Sorry, Jay. This is who I am. I murder people. I take their eyes, because it brings me pleasure. And I won’t stop.”

Jared flinched, his gaze falling back on the table and the pouch he’d left there. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What if you get caught?”

“I dunno,” Jensen shrugged. “What if you get run over by a bus tomorrow? We’ll deal with things if and when they happen. There’s no use in fretting over the unknown.” As far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t get caught. He wasn’t reckless. He wasn’t suicidal. Jensen wasn’t crazy. And Jared knew as much.

“What if I turn you in?” Jared raised his chin.

“Are you?” Jensen held his gaze steadily.

Jared cracked first, looking away. “No.” He hid his face in the crook of his arm and sniffled. “I love you, Jensen.” Jared reached out a shaking hand, stroking Jensen’s cheek. “I love you.” It was as much an admission of defeat as anything else.

In reply, Jensen leaned in and kissed him. Jared reciprocated eagerly and they moved to the bedroom, leaving the living room and all the mess behind for the time being.

***

Later that night, Jared was lying next to him, looking peaceful again in his sleep. Jensen brushed some loose strands of hair out of his face so he could watch him better. Poor Jared. So much passion, so many emotions. It was something Jensen honestly admired, envied even, maybe, but it was also Jared’s biggest weakness. It was a pity, really, Jensen mused. He’d grown attached, but all things must come to an end sooner or later. It was time to come up with a contingency plan.

But before he could begin to plot, Jared rolled over, his arm coming to rest over Jensen’s chest. He snuggled closer and Jensen sighed, giving in and cuddling him close. Just as his eyes were falling shut as well, Jared snapped him out of it.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Jared whispered into his skin. “All my findings, proof of what you do, who you are, there are copies in a deposit box. And my bank is under strict instructions to deliver it to the police in case of my early demise.”

Jensen pretended to not have heard him, but it brought a smile to his face. Mutually assured destruction. Jared was smart. And it seemed like Jensen was stuck with him for the long haul. He threw a leg over one of Jared’s and kissed his forehead before settling in for a deep, satisfied nightmare-free sleep.

Escape (For Love) (J2, AU, PG)

2014-12-28T20:11:34Z

Title: Escape (For Love)
Author: Vera
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 5.200
Warnings: none
Summary: Jensen is on the look for love. Problem is, he's so rich and famous, guys keep throwing themselves at him for all the wrong reasons. So he moves across the country and takes a low paying job, pretending to be someone else. Now all he has to do is find The One to watch Firefly with.
Author’s Note: Written for morrezela as part of the spn_j2_xmas exchange. I took one of your prompts. Hope you like it!

=> AO3 <=

Austin’s most eligible gay bachelor still missing. Where has our favourite elusive millionaire vanished off to? An article by Misha Collins.

I’m afraid to report it’s not my bed he’s hiding in. Much as I wish the fair-haired hunk…

Jensen let out a roar and crumpled up the article before reading on. Damn Kane for sending him this piece of junk. He had probably laughed his ass of, but Jensen failed to see the humor in it. Goddamn Misha and his overdone prose. Why anyone would pay him to write, let alone publish it was beyond his capacity.

Sometimes Jensen wished he’d lived twenty years ago, when being gay would have made him a pariah and not the poster boy for all kinds of Austin gossip. Well, okay, not really. He was glad everybody was so accepting, but sometimes it was just too much. Especially since it affected his love life in a major way. He could never be sure who really liked him and who was after ‘the most eligible gay bachelor’ – and the money and fame that came with it.

It didn’t help that he was decent looking either. He hadn’t been in a gay club in two years because he literally had to beat them off with a stick. And Misha… Misha had fucked him up more than any of them.

He’d met him at a bar about two and a half years ago. They immediately hit it off. Misha seemed to have all the same interests as Jensen and somehow he’d coaxed just about his whole life story out of him on that first date. Along with some pretty personal likes and dislikes. Not only limited to the bedroom. Misha had branded him the loveable, yet secretly kinky geek everybody wanted a piece of. “Silent waters run deep” had been the motto of most of the articles written since.

Jensen still suspected Misha had slipped him something. He wasn’t usually this chatty, not even with a supposed fellow geek and lover of all things scifi. Thankfully Chris had dragged him home at the end of the evening and told Misha to beat it, sensing that Jensen was way too intoxicated to be smart about this. Who knows what else might have been in the following article.

Jensen still felt dirty thinking about it. Now, just about every guy he met was talking to him about his love for Star Wars and Marvel comics and wasn’t Joss Whedon just the genius? Except that, when Jensen asked a question you couldn’t know through some quick Wikipedia research, like, what was the name of Jayne’s gun again? It was easy to spot the fakes. Sadly, so far, everyone had failed the test.

A business trip with his dad to LA had shown him that outside of Texas, nobody gave a crap about Ackles Oil. And better yet, nobody knew him. He’d been denied access to a restaurant because he was wearing his favourite Dr Who tee and it had been glorious. Well, on second thought at least. At first he’d been embarrassed and infuriated. But this was his opportunity to finally find a guy who liked him and not his money.

So within a month, Jensen had packed up his most basic possessions, found a small apartment and a job as barista in a bookstore / café. He knew he wouldn’t find anyone on a club tour – at least not anyone right for him – and if he had to work, why not find a job that actually combined two of his favourite things: books and coffee. Only it turned out the job was much more messy than he’d anticipated and working the different steamers and coffee makers was rather challenging as well. And he didn’t get to talk about books either. The customers just wanted their cup and not make small-talk with the help. It was only his co-workers that kept him from abandoning his grand plan after a week. And a few weeks in, he’d finally become a pro at steaming skim milk – though why anyone would do this to him and themselves, he had no idea. It was funny though. Skim milk buyers tended to add so much syrup and / or sugar into their cup to mask the taste, that it ended up containing way more calories than a normal latte.

“Can I get a venti latte with caramel syrup and extra whipped cream? But make that skim milk, I’ve gotta watch the calories,” his next customer sighed, patting his flat stomach dramatically.

Jensen snorted. “No, you do not.” He reached for a styrofoam cup. “What are you doing here on your day off, Padalecki? Don’t tell me your social life is so pathetic you have no friends outside of us.”

“No, that would be you you’re mistaking me with, Jensen,” Jared winked. “And I’m drinking in.” He pointed towards his book bag. “I’ve gotta study and there’s just too many distractions at home.”

Jensen smirked and prepared Jared’s full-fat latte, adding as much whipped cream as the mug allowed him to. “On the house.”

Jared bit his lip. “Jensen, I know the espresso machine has a counter inside and Kim checks inventory pretty thoroughly.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll charge it to the asshole card.” Jensen whipped out the credit card they used to replace wrong orders – more often than not the fault of the customers forgetting something when placing their order, like mention they wanted soy milk, or claiming they said ‘venti’ after already paying for their small cup. Hence, ‘asshole card’.

“Thanks. You’re my favorite.” Jared grinned and licked off some of the whipped cream before carrying his mug over to an empty table.

Jensen suppressed a groan and watched him settle down.

“God, just ask him out already. Jesus.” Danneel whacked his ass with the dishtowel she’d used to carry a fresh batch of scones out of the kitchen with.

“Shhh!” Jensen turned around wide-eyed. “He might hear you.” He went to the register and rang up Jared’s coffee, charging his own card for it.

Danneel raised her eyebrow. “I wish he would. And take a cue and invite you out instead. Watching the two of you pining is making me cranky.”

“He’s not pining for me.” Jensen sighed. “And neither am I. He’s not my type.”

“Right.” Danneel just gave him a look. But it was the truth. Jensen was looking for a nice, fellow geek to stay indoors with and watch movies. Jared was way too active for him. Once he got back to Austin, he’d be forced to go into hiding again and Jared would never agree.

Business picked back up and it was over an hour later before Jensen could bring Jared a refill. “You’re a godsend.” Jared accepted his fresh dose of caffeine and sugar greedily, pushing his book out of the way. “Sometimes I forget why I do this to myself.”

Jensen briefly glanced at the pages. “Modigliani-Miller? Ugh, yeah. Don’t remind me.”

Jared looked up in surprise. “You took some business classes? I thought you went straight into your unprofitable film studies.” Jared smiled openly, softening the sting.

Jensen felt it regardless. “Took a while to convince my old man it was just not for me and I’d never take over his company.”

“Company?” Jared asked around a mouthful of whipped cream.

“Uh, paper. A small, local paper company. Nothing big. Would probably close before I could take over anyway,” Jensen lied.

Jared nodded, apparently satisfied. “Still. Must pay enough if he allowed you to study something you really liked instead.”

Jensen suddenly felt extremely bad. “Uhm, we make do.” He bit his lip. “I’ve gotta go, the next rush is just around the corner.” He hastily took his leave to hide behind the counter again. He didn’t mean to rub it in to Jared. And he certainly didn’t mean to lie, but what else could he have said? The last thing he needed was anyone in LA to know the truth about him.

Jared stayed till the end of Jensen’s shift and joined him on his way to the subway. “Hey, I’m sorry, Jensen. I didn’t mean to pry.” He bumped his shoulder against Jensen’s.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to gloat,” Jensen apologized as well.

Jared laughed. “What? You think that was gloating? Listen, if I wouldn’t like it, I wouldn’t be studying it neither.” Jared leaned in conspiratorially. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Jensen swallowed hard. Jared being so close to him made him seriously reconsider his stance on not dating the guy. And he just smelled so damn good. He just managed to nod before drifting off too much.

“I really like it. I like that you can explain the world in numbers and theorems and flow charts. It’s fascinating.” He shrugged.

Jensen lit up. “That’s funny. That’s just the reason I like movies so much.”

“The numbers and flow charts?” Jared teased.

“It explains the world.” Jensen blushed and Jared bumped into him again.

“We make quite the pair.” Jared wrapped his arm around Jensen’s shoulders, pulling him in even closer. “We should come up with our own theorem. The Padalecki-Ross-Theorem.”

Jared couldn’t know it, but the name made Jensen freeze up. Jensen Ross. The fake name reminded him why he was here and what he had to get back to. He couldn’t subject Jared to it. It would never work. He subtly freed himself. “Oh shit, I just forgot. I need to pick up my latest order from the comic book store before they sell it to somebody else. See you tomorrow.” Without waiting for a reply, he practically ran in the other direction.

“But don’t you pick those up on Wednesdays?” Jared shouted after him. “Besides, you told me you had your own shelf…” He sounded sad now and Jensen kept his head low, pretending not to hear him until he rounded the corner and was out of sight.

**

The next day, Jared briefly asked him if he’d gotten his books. Jensen confirmed and they went on with their shift as usual. Except that Jared kept eyeing the tip jar wistfully more often than usual.

“For somebody who almost possesses a business degree, you’re surprisingly bad with your own money,” Jensen remarked when they had a lull in their day.

To his surprise, Jared full-on glared at him. But his eyes soon softened and he sighed deeply. “You know I had to take Harley to the vet last week because he swallowed that bottle cap that some asshole had littered the park with? And my insurance doesn’t cover injuries caused by the dog’s own fault.”

Jensen grimaced. Yes, he remembered the incident and how distraught Jared had been all day. He didn’t know Jared had to pay in full though. He bit back a comment to suggest cancelling the dog health insurance and getting a decent one for himself instead, because he knew it would fall on deaf ears. It was just one of the things that made Jared so endearing. Yet stupid. He cared more for his dog than himself.

So during their next rush hour, Jensen smuggled a 50 dollar bill into the tip jar, ‘noticing’ it only when the rush was over. “Wow, Jared, look! Someone must have really been under-caffeinated.”

Jared snatched the bill from the jar and held it up to the light to verify authenticity. “That’s gonna buy me a lot of dog food,” Jared beamed. “Can you break it?”

“I’m sure the pet store will be able to deal with it,” Jensen replied dryly.

“For your cut, you moron.” Jared rolled his eyes.

“Oh.” Jensen scratched the back of his head. “Listen, don’t worry about it. I like that dog as well.” They’d met in the park a few times by now, Jared insisting Jensen join him for a run, since he couldn’t say no to something he’d never tried. And Jensen went. He ended up mostly playing with the dog while Jared ran small laps around them, but it had been pretty great days.

Jared must really, really need the money, because he pocketed it without putting up too much of a fight. “Thanks. I really appreciated it.” Jared pulled him in for a tight hug, his throat suddenly tight. “Harley as well. And we’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

Jensen closed his eyes, revelling in the hug for a heartbeat or two, before pushing Jared away. “Don’t make me run next time and we’ll call it even.”

Jared’s face fell. “You don’t want to come to the park with us anymore?”

“No!” Jensen was quick to assure him otherwise. “I just don’t want to run. I’m fine throwing a Frisbee for Harley or something.” He passed a hand through his hair nervously and looked towards the floor. “That is, if you can put up with someone as lazy as me.”

“Jensen…” But before Jared could finish his sentence, a customer cleared his throat.

“Speaking of lazy.” The guy complained loudly and Jensen ground his teeth before putting on a big fake smile to deal with it.

**

When their shift was over, they made their way to the subway together again. “Hey, you got any plans tomorrow?” Jared asked.

“Tomorrow is Friday,” Jensen realized. And no, he didn’t. He’d stopped going to the clubs in his third week of knowing Jared. Completely unrelated to it though. He’d just gotten tired of casual hook-ups. It wasn’t why he’d come here. And his few visits were enough to tell him he’d never find anything other than sex in the clubs he tried.

“Oh,” Jared nodded. “Of course you do.”

“Well,” Jensen hedged. He didn’t want to sound like a loser. Then again, he was talking to Jared. “I was gonna do the laundry and try out this new algae face scrub.”

“Oooh, sexy,” Jared laughed. “I was just thinking, as an early thank you, you could come over for pizza and beer. We can watch Guardians.”

Jensen perked up. “Guardians of the Galaxy?”

“Yes. If you can even watch it again. With the many times you talked about it, I figured I had to give it a try.” Jared shrugged. “You can help me explain the things a noob like me won’t understand.”

Jensen’s grin was so bright, his cheeks hurt. “I’d love to!” His excitement over the movie was big enough to only make him realize he’d just agreed to a date when he was back home alone.

**

The next day was Jensen’s day off and he was so nervous, he ended up calling Chris. To his distress, it turned out that Chris was basically on the same page as Danneel, telling Jensen it was about time and to not be such a snob and give this a chance already. And would he really want to seriously date somebody who’s just like him? Wouldn’t that be boring as hell?

Jensen grudgingly had to admit that – even though it was never boring in Jensen’s head when he was alone with himself – Chris had a point and hung up with the promise to keep his friend updated the next day. The rest of his Friday was spent picking out the perfect wardrobe and the perfect beer to bring – not too expensive, not too shabby either. This was actually hard. He ended up with a six-pack of Heineken. And his best jeans and a nice, dark-red button-down. Underneath he wore one of his fave tees – sporting a painted-on bow tie and a fake ‘hello, my name is’ name tag that read ‘I’m the Doctor’. Jared wouldn’t see it, but Jensen felt a lot better wearing it.

When Jensen entered Jared’s apartment he just had time to hand over the beer, before he was bowled over by an over-enthusiastic Harley. He laughed and let the dog lick his face while he buried his hands in fur and let the softness calm him further.

“I told him to give you some extra lovin’ today.” Jared grinned down at him before finally pulling Harley back by his collar. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Jensen got up and brushed off some dog hair. The place was small. He looked down at the dog and back at the apartment, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking.” Jared clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “But the best thing about this place is, it comes with a community garden and Harley’s allowed in there during the day. All the neighbors love him. He’s kind of our community dog.” He petted the dog in question.

“Yeah, but I bet if the building was on fire, it’s you he’d rescue first,” Jensen smiled and patted Harley’s head.

“He better,” Jared grinned brightly, his fingers brushing Jensen’s over the dog.

Jensen grinned back, and butterflies filled his stomach.

The evening only got better and better – with the small exception of Jared’s small TV, which had Jensen long for his cinema room back at home, with the extra large seats and the huge screen and surround sound system. But Jared loved the movie. So Jensen couldn’t wait to watch it again with him once he’d visit him in Austin. In his mind, it wasn’t so much of a question of ‘if’ as it was ‘when’.

“You know what else I really liked?” Jared exclaimed animatedly. “The soundtrack!”

Jensen beamed and pulled out his iPhone. They were currently only listening to the DVD menu playing in the background, so he used the opportunity to start up the soundtrack. “I can send you the .mp3s later, if you want.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Jared reached for Jensen’s phone and held it in his hand reverently. “Shiny.”

Jensen perked up. But Jared probably only said it because Jensen kept saying it. And besides, people were allowed to say ‘shiny’ without…

Jared nudged him. “I can see your brain working. And yes, I might have also streamed Firefly, because you kept talking about it. Which was one of the reasons why I came to the café the other day. I couldn’t stop watching.”

Jensen was speechless. All of his reasons why Jared would not be compatible were crumbling in front of his eyes. How could he have been so stupid all those weeks?

“You want to know the other reason?” Jared asked.

“What for?” Jensen asked back, stumped.

Jared chuckled. “I also came because I missed you. Isn’t that stupid? We work together five days of the week and on my day off, I still miss you.” He bit his lip and looked down, playing with the fraying cuffs of his shirt. And Jensen had never seen him so nervous before.

“Jared…” Jensen started and then shook his head. What was there to say, really? He cupped Jared’s cheek and kissed him softly. After a split second of hesitation, Jared was with him and they ended up making out on the couch.

The soundtrack was just starting over again, when Jared pushed them apart. “Alright. We definitely have to do this again.”

“Yes,” Jensen confirmed. “Right now.” He tried to drag Jensen back down again.

“Jensen.” Jared put up resistance. “This is only our first date.”

“Eh,” Jensen dismissed the thought. “I’ve known you for months. We met up in the park. You came to visit me at my place of work. This is at least date number four.”

Jared cocked his head. “Well, if you put it that way…”

“I do.” Jensen nodded enthusiastically and finished unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his tee underneath and causing Jared to laugh.

“God, I love your geek shirts.” He brushed his fingers over the false bow tie. “So cute.”

“You don’t think I’m too old for them?” Jensen asked, a little unsure again.

Jared snorted. “That’s a sentence you’ll never hear me say about anything.”

Jensen smiled, the warmth spreading through his chest again. “You know what we’re too big for though?”

Jared raised his eyebrow.

“Making out on your couch when you have a perfectly good bed available.” Jensen pushed up to a sitting position and Jared got up, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom without further complaints.

**

The next morning, Jensen woke up happy and sated – and naked next to Jared. He rolled over and snuggled deeper in the other man’s arms, unwilling to face the day just yet. He still had to come clean about his family at some point. And in the not so distant future, they both had a job to go to.

Jared tightened his arms around Jensen and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Mornin’,” he mumbled.

But just as Jensen was about to really enjoy it, Jared’s alarm clock started beeping, making them both groan. “What time is it?”

“Five,” Jared replied with another kiss to Jensen’s hair. “You stay here or go take a shower, I’ll walk Harley. I’ll be back in 30 minutes.”

Before Jensen had a chance to protest, Jared was already up and he could hear distinct snuffling coming from an impatient dog outside the door. He burrowed deeper into the covers, missing Jared’s warmth already.

**

Two hours later, they walked into the café hand in hand, Jensen wearing one of Jared’s smaller shirts. Much to the delight of Danneel, who had opened up early and was beaming at them from behind the counter.

“About time,” she greeted them cheerfully. “See, Chris? I told you they’d arrive here together. And is that Jared’s shirt you’re wearing, Jensen?” She gave him a cheshire grin.

“Chris?” Jensen froze and looked around the otherwise empty café, spotting his friend at one of the tables, duffle bag at his feet, apparently straight off the airport.

The man in question stood up. “Figured I’d come here to get the update in person. And give this guy a good once-over before you get yourself in trouble, but I guess I’m too late for that, eh, Jenny?” He poked Jensen in the chest. “You slut.”

“Hey!” Jared pushed himself up to his full height, looking at Chris threateningly.

“Oh, I like him already!” Chris exclaimed.

Jensen sighed when he saw that Jared still looked murderous. “It’s fine,” he explained. “Chris didn’t mean it like that.” He pointed from one to the other. “Chris, Jared. Jared, Chris, my oldest friend who talks a lot of shit when you let him.”

Chris grinned, shaking Jared’s hand. “You can call me Kane. Only friends get to call me Chris.” He threw Danneel a wink. “Friends, and pretty ladies.”

Danneel covered her heart with both hands and mock-sighed, fluttering her eyelashes. “As amusing as this all is though,” she stated, “one of you had better come help me before the early morning crowd arrives.”

Jensen looked at Chris expectantly but his friend just raised his eyebrow, hand still holding Jared’s. Jensen knew a fight lost when he saw one. He sighed and made his way to the counter. “Don’t believe anything he’s saying about me,” he warned Jared, hoping to God Chris wouldn’t rat him out.

His worries were laid to rest a little while later, when Jared joined them behind the counter and placed a chaste kiss on Jensen’s lips. “I think I passed.”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen replied, giving Jared’s hand a squeeze.

“Did you really fight off a guy with a lightsaber once?” Jared asked bright eyed.

Jensen groaned in reply and excused himself before going over to Chris himself. “The fuck?” He greeted, before sitting down across from his friend.

Chris shrugged. “What? I was having an appointment here anyway.”

“No, you were not.” Jensen narrowed his eyes.

Chris grinned. “Your father will be pleased to know your future wife will be able to take over the business for you.”

Jensen covered his face with both hands, mortified. “Oh God. He’s not gonna be my wife.”

“Right, I forgot. You’re the one wearing the lace panties, so that would make you the wife, I guess.” Chris kicked him under the table and Jensen just glared in reply.

Damn Misha Collins and his article. “It was just that one…” He stopped himself when he saw the twinkle in Chris’ eyes. Jensen sank down further in the chair, accepting his misery. “So you like him though?”

Chris nodded. “He’s a good guy. Don’t wait too long telling him though.”

“I know.” Jensen glanced over towards the counter. “I’ll give it another week or two.”

“You’re an idiot,” Chris remarked. “And this plan of yours stinks, I told you this from the start. Don’t come crying to me if he holds it against you that you’ve been lying to him for months now.”

Jensen studied his hands. “You think he’s going to hate me for it?”

Chris snorted. “Jensen, that boy couldn’t hate you for anything. Just don’t wait too long is all I’m saying.”

“I know,” Jensen sighed, already plotting when and how to tell him.

**

But sadly it turned out, things were taken out of his hands. His shift ended early that day and he was relaxing in his own place when he got a call from Danneel.

“Jensen, you’ve gotta come quick. Some reporter guy was just here, asking all kinds of questions about you, like if you owned the place and what you were doing here.” Before Jensen could freak out, Danneel went on. “Don’t worry, I threw him out and didn’t tell him anything. But he dropped your real name. And I fear Jared’s about to google you.”

“Oh fuck!” Jensen bit his finger. Misha. Had to be. He was probably following Chris like the slimy spy he was. “Wait…” It suddenly registered with him. “You know I’m Jensen Ackles?”

“Jensen, I have a gay cousin living in Dallas. He’s been sending me your pictures for the last two years,” Danneel explained. “He thinks you’re dreamy.”

Jensen closed his eyes. Could this get any worse? But then… Danneel had known all along and never said anything? “Thank you.” It was all he could say right now before hanging up and making his way back to the café.

By the look on Jared’s face, he knew he’d been indeed able to google him. Thankfully, there was a lull right now and he was able to drag Jared back to the kitchen with him. “Jared… I meant to tell you.”

Jared crossed his arms in front of his chest. He didn’t look angry though, he looked like he wanted to cry. Which only made Jensen fell worse. “When? The day you decided you had enough of playing around and went back to your mansion, leaving me here?”

“What?” Jensen paled. “No, that’s not it at all!” He reached out for Jared, but Jared flinched back.

“Tell me Jensen, what am I? Your bonus for having to work here? Was this your father’s plan as punishment for dropping your business education?” Jared passed his hands through his hair, avoiding direct eye contact.

Jensen had to bite his cheek to not laugh at Jared’s theories. He knew it would only make things worse, but… really? “Listen to me, Jared. You got it all wrong.”

“How is it, then?” Jared slumped against the counter.

“I came here to find a boyfriend.” The second he said it, he realized how it sounded. Jensen squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I mean, I…” He sighed. “No, actually, I meant when I said. Back at home, guys just kept throwing themselves at me, lying to appear perfect for me. You see, there’s this reporter Misha and he…” Jensen stopped himself. “That doesn’t matter right now. I just… It’s all been true, Jared. I didn’t lie about anything other than my family.”

“Your name?” Jared asked.

“Jensen Ross Ackles. I just left out the defining part,” Jensen shrugged.

“You honestly came to LA… just to find a boyfriend?” Jared repeated.

Jensen moved a little closer, taking Jared’s hand in his. Jared let him. “I know how it sounds, but yes.”

“Things rich people do,” Jared remarked, a small smile forming on his face. “Alright, what else was in your plan?”

“I figured I’d meet a nice fellow geek and things would just fall into place from there,” Jensen confessed.

“Instead, you met me,” Jared dropped Jensen’s hand again.

“Yes. Instead, I met you.” Jensen cupped Jared’s cheek, making him keep eye contact. “And you’re so much better than what I could hope for. You made me realize what I was missing and where I went wrong. I don’t need to date myself.”

“Would be hot, though.” Jared couldn’t help but wink.

“Shut up,” Jensen smiled, risking it and planting a small kiss on Jared’s lips. And it was true. He realized now that it’s always been Jared. And it could never be anyone else. “Can you forgive me?”

“Were you ever gonna tell me the truth?” Jared asked back.

“Of course! In fact Chris was here today to remind me not to wait too long with it.” Jensen shook his head. But he couldn’t know that he wouldn’t even have a day to come clean.

“But you were gonna tell me. You. On your own.” Jared pointed at Jensen’s chest.

“Yes. I swear, Jared.” Jensen slotted their hips together. “I mean, how else would I explain our house when I introduced you to my parents?”

Jared chuckled. “You’re skipping a few steps again.”

“No, I’m not.” Jensen pulled him in for another kiss, deepening it when Jared let him. He smiled against Jared’s lips, elated with relief and happiness. This didn’t go as planned, but then, nothing in LA had so far. Jensen couldn’t deny the happy outcome though. Maybe he should send Misha a thank you note… But not today. Today would be all about making Jared as happy as he felt himself right now.

**

Two years later.

Most eligible bachelor no more: Austin weeps as Jensen Ackles ties the knot. An article by Misha Collins.

And nobody has wept louder than yours truly. The loss of our most beloved single was a hard blow to Austin’s gay community. But I begrudgingly admit that it was also a win, because his equally gorgeous boyfriend, nay, husband Jared has won us all over with his happy-go-lucky personality and adorable dog to complete this picture-perfect family – and he’s kept us happy with more candids of Jensen out and about than we had pre-Jared. Feast your eyes on our exclusive wedding spread inside. Spoiler alert: The pair apparently adopted another rescue dog just in time for family pictures. Can it get any cuter? I say no.

Jensen almost threw his iPad at the wall. “Yes, exclusive because he was dangling from a helicopter invading our privacy. I wish he’d fallen off!”

“Jensen,” Jared called out soothingly.

“It’s just…” He rubbed his pulsating temples. “Why does Chris keep sending me those?”

“Jensen,” Jared repeated.

“What?” Jensen finally turned around and looked at his husband, only to find out he’d pushed away the sheets and was beckoning to him from their large hotel room bed. Only dressed in a bow tie.

“We’re on our honeymoon in Europe. Do you really want to think about Misha?” Jared was playing with his tie suggestively.

“Who?” Jensen asked, his anger vanished and replaced by much more pleasant feelings as he joined his better half on silken sheets.

Refuge (Dean/Castiel, R, AU)

2014-02-11T23:43:10Z

Title: Refuge
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU (fantasy)
Rating: R for graphic violence
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 5.900
Warnings: graphic violence (of the martial arts kind)
Summary: Dean’s world is turned upside down when he meets the mysterious Castiel. Soon they’re both on the run from monks who seek to keep them from fulfilling an ancient prophecy by all means necessary.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on felidraxian’s art prompt located here.

=> AO3 <=

“Dean!” His father called out for him. “Goddamn that boy, always running off.”

Meanwhile, Dean ventured deeper into the forest. Something was calling out to him, and Dean never ignored an urge. It’s gotten him in trouble many a times. He heard a rustling and hid behind a tree.

“Come on,” a hushed voice whispered. “I heard noises. There are people on the pathway. We need to get him to safety before anyone can see him.”

Curious as he was, Dean peaked out from behind his tree and spotted two travellers, a large man and a woman with red hair carrying a bundle on her back. While Dean was looking, the bundle moved and a head was peeking out from beneath the clothes. Eyes as intensely blue as Dean had never seen before caught his, widened, and stared frightened back. Dean put his finger to his lips and tried to hush him.

The head popped free further and Dean could see that the boy couldn’t be much younger than he was, yet he was being carried around in a basket strapped to the woman’s back. Dean frowned, wondering if the kid was in trouble, if he should call out to his father for help, but something made him pause.

“Maybe we should return, Uriel. Surely they wouldn’t harm the boy…” The woman hesitated, looking back the way they’d come from.

“Don’t be naïve, Anna. You read the prophecy. What do you think they’ll do? Ignore it and allow him to grow up and fulfil his destiny? They think he’s their undoing. You know how paranoid our brothers and sisters are.” The man paused as well, drawing a sword from underneath his cloak. “Hush.”

“Dean, I swear to God. We’re leaving without you if you don’t show your face right this second!” The yell boomed from the distance and Dean cringed. His father’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge and he knew what that meant. Unconsciously, he touched his cheek, as if he could already feel the heat from the bruise soon to be forming there.

With a last look at the boy, Dean slinked back before his father came looking for him. If not for his sake, he didn’t want him to stumble upon the strangers and find out what would happen.

***

Years later, Dean still hadn’t forgotten about the boy. The frightened blue eyes would haunt him at night and he wondered futilely what had happened to him, if he’d ever arrived at his destination; if he was safe. But there was no way for Dean to find out.

“Dean Winchester. I know you’re in here. Have you forgotten about kitchen duty yet again?” The school’s cook, Ellen Harvelle, was looking for him in the library.

“Forgotten isn’t the right word if you consciously ignore it,” Dean replied sulkily, closing the Master’s Book on Spells and Potions and coming out from behind his corner deep behind the large book shelves of the library.

“And you’re not even supposed to be in here, young man,” Ellen was scolding him. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and led him out of the library.

Dean knew he wasn’t allowed in the sacred halls of the library, seeing how he wasn’t even a student here. He was earning his keep as a member of the staff instead. But nobody was ever in there voluntarily and most of the adults liked him well enough to pretend not to know anything of his illegal studies. Grandmaster Bobby even allowed his presence in the laboratories every now and then, claiming he was happy to for once have a student eager to learn.

“Grant me an allowance and get me enrolled here?” Dean suggested in answer to her question.

“Oh honey,” Ellen ruffled his hair. “I would, if I could. You know that.”

Dean cringed away from her touch, mock-offended at her messing up his hair, but secretly revelling in the touch. All in all, it really wasn’t too bad here. It certainly beat living on the road with his father, especially since Sammy was gone.

“How’s Jo doing?” Dean asked. Ellen’s daughter was away at a cheaper school than the private institution they were working at. Nevertheless it was something. And Ellen was proud, Dean knew as much.

“Well,” she smiled. “They say she shows real promise in the archery department.”

Dean frowned, trying to picture the little girl in pigtails he remembered holding a bow. “That’s great. So she’s striving to become a huntress?”

“We don’t know yet,” Ellen shrugged. “What about your brother? How’s Sam doing?”

“Best in class, as always,” Dean reported. Their father had chosen to send Sam to school, which was alright with Dean. A portion of his own salary was paying for it, after all. Sam had always been the smart one, calm, collected and good, while Dean had been the troublemaker. Yet Sam seemed to lack actual talent in magic, which was why he was to become a scholar rather than someone who practises himself.

“That’s great,” Ellen replied while shoving him in the kitchen. “And to make sure he stays at school…” She thrust a wet dishrag at him. When Dean made a face, she chuckled and patted his cheek. “He’s going to thank you one day, Dean. Just you wait.”

“Yeah, he better,” Dean grumbled and started on the dirty pots and pans. Truth was, he really didn’t mind and he required no thanks from his brother. But sometimes he just wished he’d get a little support himself.

***

The next day, Dean was outside in the surrounding forest, looking for primrose mushrooms for Grandmaster Bobby. They only grew in the darkest parts and only during the three days surrounding the full moon. He’d spent two hours already, but so far no luck. At least he got to fill up his own secret stash with a few herbs and plants he was experimenting with.

Eventually it was getting late and the woods grew a little too dense even for his comfort. And he could swear he kept hearing a faint whimper. Dean reached into his satchel and got out a cotton cloth, some dried herbs and wrapped it all around a large branch of wood he’d found lying at his feet. When he was done, he got some crushed lemonflower blossoms and carefully sprinkled them on top of the cloth. It caught fire instantly and lit up in a bright yellow light which dimmed seconds after, leaving him surrounded with a pleasant, almost white glow.

“Wow,” a voice exclaimed not too far away, making Dean jump. “How’d you do that?”

Dean turned towards the sound and was shocked into momentary silence when his eyes met the blue from his dreams. The boy, now older, but definitely the same boy, must have realized his mistake in speaking up, because his hand was clasped over his mouth and he huddled in on himself protectively. “Lemonflower,” Dean replied eventually.

The other boy pulled his hand away. “I know you.”

“You do,” Dean confirmed. Even if it made no sense. He’d only seen him once, but there was such a strong feeling of recollection, of familiarity washing over him. “I’m Dean.”

“I know,” the boy replied, hand coming back up to cover his mouth. “I mean…” He trailed off unhappily. “Castiel.”

”Castiel what?” Dean frowned.

“My name. They call me Castiel,” the boy, Castiel, explained.

Dean stared. Was this real? “What are you doing here, Castiel?”

“What are you doing here?” he parroted back.

“Looking for primrose mushrooms,” Dean replied.

“Oh.” Castiel unfurled a little. “May I help you?”

“Okay?” When Castiel got up, his cloak rode up and Dean caught a glimpse of a design that seemed to be painted onto Castiel’s arms. He considered asking about it, but then thought better of it.

“What’s a primped mushroom look like?” Castiel asked.

“Primrose,” Dean corrected with a smile. “And you don’t know?” Castiel shook his head. “It’s small.” Dean pointed with his fingers. “And brown. But it glows a faint purple when the moonlight catches it.”

“Cool!” Castiel exclaimed excitedly. They’d only taken a few more steps deeper into the woods, when Castiel bend down to pick something up. “Like this?”

Sure enough, he’d found what Dean had been looking for. Unsuccessfully. For over two hours. Dean squinted at the ground, but all he could see was a thick coat of wet leaves. “Uhm, yes.”

Castiel let out a happy noise and bent back downwards, brushing the leaves aside, and sure enough, now Dean saw them as well: a whole bed full of hidden gems. They both knelt down to pick them and Dean got out a handkerchief to collect them in.

“I have to compliment your eyesight, I guess.” Dean admitted. And the shrooms weren’t even glowing, as deep down as they were right now.

“Glad to be of service,” Castiel held out his handful proudly.

Dean accepted them and was jolted with a burst of electricity as their fingers touched. “What the hell?”

“Oh no. Oh, they must be close.” Castiel snatched his hand back, but not before Dean could see the pattern on his wrist glow up. “Douse your flame!” Castiel begged, but it was already too late.

Four hooded figures emerged from behind the trees and closed in on them. “There he is. Careful, he’s dangerous.”

And for a ridiculous few seconds, Dean thought they must be talking about him, because surely Castiel, who’d hidden and cowered in the dark with his round blue eyes, was as harmless as they came. But when he turned to tell the other boy to hide behind him while reaching for his satchel to get out some red haze powder, Castiel had already shed his cloak.

Underneath, Castiel was wearing a sleeveless top and tight pants onto which several small knives were strapped to. The pattern on his skin, which covered his whole arms and disappeared well under the top, glowed brighter, illuminating his face in an eerie light glow. Before Dean could fully admire him, Castiel had already reached for the first knife and thrown it, depositing it straight between the eyes of hooded figure number one.

The man fell like a tree and Dean could only stare in fascination while the other three attacked Castiel at once. But Castiel kicked out and threw expert punches, keeping the upper hand during the brief fight. He was just about to deliver a final kick to the last guy standing, when suddenly a fifth man emerged from behind.

Dean didn’t think, he just reached for his powder and blew, blinding the man before his sword could harm Castiel. Castiel turned around, wide eyes landing on the man, before he plucked another knife from his arsenal and slid the man’s throat, delivering a swift kick that had him fly several feet away from them before he could even get hid by the spray of blood.

Wiping his knife on the back of his pants before tucking it back into the sheath, Castiel’s gaze finally landed on Dean. “Dean…” He started and then stopped, taking him in from bottom to top.

Dean realized he was shaking and quickly stood up straighter, clenching his teeth and forcing himself to calm down. Castiel wasn’t going to hurt him. If he wanted to, Dean would already be dead. Obviously.

“Thank you,” Castiel held out his hand. “For the assistance.”

Still trembling, Dean shook it. Castiel’s hold was firm and strong and somehow calmed Dean right back down. “Care to explain?” Dean asked.

“Explain what?” Castiel asked while reaching down for his cloak and fastening it around himself again.

“What the hell just happened?”

”Oh.” Castiel shrugged. “Four men came from North and attacked us. I started by throwing a knife…”

“No!” Dean interrupted. “I know what just happened.”

“Then why are you asking me, Dean?” Castiel looked at him with such innocence, that Dean could just gape at him.

He picked up the mushrooms and the torch he’d dropped, gingerly avoiding touching the bodies strewn around them. Or looking at them. Or acknowledging they even existed. “You coming?” Dean asked and without looking over his shoulder, fled the scene as fast as he could without running. He knew Castiel would follow him.

Once they’d reached a cleared footpath, Dean stopped. “Where are you going?” He asked Castiel.

“Where are you going?”

Somehow, Dean had already known this would be Castiel’s answer. “I’m going back to St. Lawrence. It’s a school,” Dean explained.

“What are you studying?” They fell into step side by side, Castiel just tagging along.

Dean hesitated, tempted to lie. But he didn’t want to lie to Castiel. “I’m not. I work there.”

“Okay,” Castiel nodded.

Dean looked at him. Now that he’d caught a glimpse of the trained body hidden beneath the cloak, he wondered if maybe Castiel was actually even older than him. It shouldn’t be important; Dean should worry about his safety, but… This was the boy from his dreams now in the firm body of a young man. It was disturbing him on so many levels. “Where’d you learn to fight like this?” Dean asked, not really expecting an answer.

“In the monastery.”

That certainly explained a few things, Dean thought. “So, are you heading back there? Is it far away?” He’d never seen any monks this side of the woods, but he knew they tended to stay hidden and rarely left their own lands.

“I’m never going back,” Castiel stated matter-of-factly.

“Did they…” Dean hesitated, thinking of the pattern on Castiel’s skin. “Were you hurt?”

“No.” Castiel pulled his cloak tighter.

“So you just grew sick of the solitary life?” Dean prodded.

“No.” Castiel glanced away. Before Dean could come up with another suggestion, Castiel continued. “They were slaughtered for hiding me. I made it out but… They’re all dead.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he mentally slapped himself. Castiel’s voice remained steady, but Dean could tell it affected him a great deal. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Castiel stopped moving. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t drag you into this. I’m only putting you in danger. Please forgive me, Dean.”

“Oh please,” Dean protested. “I can protect myself. Without me that fifth guy earlier would have totally sliced you open.” And did he just say that? Oh shit. That actually could have happened! He felt like being doused by a bucket of ice and the cold water was now slowly trickling down his back. Castiel could have died. They both could have died just moments ago.

“True,” Castiel smiled a little, apparently not as affected as Dean was by the realisation. “And I am ever so grateful for you assistance, but now I must go.” He didn’t move though.

“Where are you going to go?” Dean asked, a tiny part of him thinking that maybe it was for the best if he’d just disappear again. But there was also a strong urge to keep Castiel close, to never lose him now that they’d finally found each other again.

“I’m…” Castiel started but then trailed off and bit his lip.

“Don’t even try and lie to me,” Dean shook his head. “I know ‘lost’ when I see it.” After all, he’d seen that look on his own face in the mirror many times before. And somehow he’d always found strength again. Mostly in the knowledge that eventually he’d meet his brother again, but sometimes there had been blue eyes staring back at him, and he knew he had to keep going; that there was something important waiting for him. “You’re coming to the institute with me.”

“Okay.” Castiel looked at him, his big round eyes full of trust again, and Dean wondered what the hell he was getting himself into here. The intense sense of connection scared him a little.

***

Dean had gotten pretty good at sneaking in and out of St. Lawrence’s and managed to smuggle Castiel into his room without anyone seeing him. He had to go back to the kitchens and deliver the shrooms to Grandmaster Bobby, but he was confident nobody would enter his chambers while he was gone.

Castiel had thanked him once again and eyed the bed with exhaustion written all over his face. And sure enough, when Dean returned hours later, Castiel was curled up close to the wall, sleeping soundly. He’d made himself so small that more than half of Dean’s bed was invitingly empty.

It wasn’t like Dean had that much of a choice anyway, he reasoned. His room was small and if he tried to sleep on the cold floor, he was sure to bang against his spare table and there was no way he was sleeping in his chair. So Dean quickly changed into more comfortable pants and a shirt before joining Castiel on the bed.

At first he kept his distance, but the sleepier he got, the more he sprawled and before he knew it, he was rolling over and spooning Castiel right as he fell into a deep slumber. His hand landed on Castiel’s bare arm and if Dean had still been conscious, he might have shied away from the blue glow his touch elicited.

”Castiel,” a red headed woman lying on the floor in an unnaturally crumbled state croaked. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“Anna, no,” Castiel’s voice was trembling with unshed tears. He was kneeling over her body, holding her hand. Dean recognized the woman as the one he’d seen all these years ago in the forest, carrying Castiel on her back.

“Find him,” she instructed. “Find your partner and you’ll be unstoppable.” She reached out a bloody hand and touched his cheek. “I was wrong. It’s your destiny. Fulfil it. Destroy them all.”

“But Anna…” Castiel tried, but her hand slipped from his cheek, her eyes staring at a point far away from him before their light dimmed. “Anna,” he whispered, closing her eyelids and pressing a last kiss to her temple. “You will be avenged.”

Castiel picked up the sword she’d dropped and let out a menacing roar before thrusting himself into the battle raging on outside. The rest of the dream was a blur of movement and silhouettes, swords and daggers, and the color red.

Dean woke with his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He realized he was wrapped around Castiel and meant to disentangle himself, but even though he tried to suppress it, Castiel was quietly weeping, his whole body shivering. Dean wrapped his arms tighter around his slim form wordlessly and held on until the sobs grew louder but the shivering subsided. Eventually Castiel quietened down and Dean fell back asleep.

***

When he woke up again the next morning, his first thought was that he was still sleeping and trapped in another nightmare. The alarm bells were sounding – or at least that’s what he thought it was. Dean had never heard the shrill noise before. And there was a lot of running and screaming outside.

There was movement next to him as Castiel frantically tried to climb out of bed but got tangled in the sheets – and in Dean. It would all be more amusing if it wasn’t for his panicked look.

“Oh no,” Castiel said. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” And with that he leaped over Dean and out of bed, reaching for his arsenal of knives and daggers and reapplying them to his clothes. “We have to go,” he informed Dean.

Dean was shaken out of his stupor by a loud scream very near his room. He jumped up and quickly grabbed his duffel. He still had one fully packed right next to his bed. Old habits die hard and it had always given him comfort to know he could leave at a moment’s notice if need be. He strapped on his satchel of herbs and reached for his coat just as Castiel opened the window.

“Wait,” Dean looked at the door. “What about…”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel avoided his gaze.

“You’re sorry about what?” Dean prodded, but he wasn’t opening the door.

“Dean…” He gave him a sorrowful look. “I’m sorry.”

And, remembering the dream, Dean understood. He swallowed and nodded once, following Castiel as he jumped out of the window. Dean could only hope that his teachers would fare better than the monks. After all, they were skilled Grandmasters.

But deep down he knew he’d never see any of them ever again.

***

Following the secret path they had come in from, they managed to flee undetected. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Dean ran for at least an hour straight before he finally crashed near a stream. Castiel hadn’t even really broken into a sweat yet, but Dean almost fell in when he bent down to drink some of the water. He sat down with his back against a rock and took a few deep breaths.

Castiel was hovering close uncomfortably. “Dean, we need to get going. They’ll know I’m gone soon enough and they’ll follow.”

“But they don’t know which direction to go,” Dean reasoned, but he knew it was wishful thinking.

“They’re able to track my energy signature.” Castiel looked devastated.

“Your energy signature? How is that even possible?” Dean had heard of tracking spells, but they always required some part of the person you meant to track and they never lasted for very long.

“It’s complicated,” Castiel explained, touching the pattern on his arm.

Dean cocked his head. He didn’t know much about tracking, but hadn’t he just read up on cloaking spells? “Tell me more.”

“It’s complicated.” Castiel shrugged. “Come on, we need to get going.”

“I’m serious.” Dean was offended. “I may be able to cloak you if I know what exactly it is I’m hiding here.”

Castiel bit his lip. After another moment of hesitation, he let out a deep sigh. “It’s a magic spell meant to protect me. It enhances my senses, mostly. And it’s tuned to a specific kind of magic signature so as to warn me when members of my previous cult show up. That’s why it glows sometimes.”

Dean considered this new information. “It’s not that great a spell though, is it? It only started glowing when they were already on you.” No way to run and hide.

“I won’t hide anymore. That’s not what I’m here for.” Castiel raised his chin defiantly.

“Then what are you here for?” Dean asked.

“To kill them all,” Castiel whispered.

Dean shivered. “Because they murdered your family?” He remembered the dream.

“Because it’s my destiny.”

“Okay.” Dean unconsciously backed away a step. At the same time, he knew Castiel wasn’t lying. It wasn’t just the dream, he felt it deep down. It was their destiny.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Castiel asked tentatively.

“No.” Dean was honest. He couldn’t explain their connection, couldn’t explain the sudden, strong urge to fight and protect, to help destroy their enemies. Dean didn’t have enemies. Okay, there had been some students he quarrelled with and he didn’t always get along with the headmaster or some of the other staff at St. Lawrence, but… enemies?

“I’m sorry.” Castiel wrapped his arms around himself. “We really need to be going.”

Dean nodded, not keen on having yet another encounter with screams and bloodshed.

***

They ventured on without talking much, Castiel doing his best to hide their tracks and plant false leads. But it wouldn’t matter, Dean knew. Not if they were able to use a tracking spell. A spell honed in on Castiel’s magical protection tattoos. A spell that was tracking a magical signature, a signature that was basically doing the very same in reverse. Dean stopped.

“We need glauberries,” he announced.

“What?” Castiel turned around.

“Glauberries.” Dean smiled happily. “I know what to do. Trust me.”

Castiel frowned but he followed Dean out of the forest and towards a meadow. Once he found what he’d been looking for, Dean’s smile widened even further and he led them to a small stream. He needed water for this to work.

After stripping a tree of some bark, Dean went to work. He got out a few other ingredients from his satchel and mixed it all together to form a grayish paste. “Do you trust me?” He looked up at Castiel, who’d been hovering close-by anxiously.

“Yes.” Castiel hesitated for only a split second.

“Take off your clothes. Anywhere that’s covered by the pattern,” Dean instructed.

Castiel looked at him, then at the paste, and then he shrugged and started to undress.

Dean swallowed when he realized that the pattern was spread all over Castiel’s body. He did his best not to stare too obviously, but he had a feeling he failed miserably considering the blush that was blooming all over Castiel’s newly exposed skin. He cleared his throat. “Uhm, I… I hope I made enough.”

“For?” Castiel asked, his hands awkwardly crossed in front of his undershorts; the only garment still left on him.

“They’re tracking your tattoo. This paste is partially meant to hide magical objects; in powdered form glauberry masks the taste of potions. Blended it should work on you.” Dean was confident. He was good at this, at understanding how ingredients worked together and how to modify them to fit his needs.

“Will it still work?” Castiel traced the pattern on his left arm.

“In theory, it should.” You only mask the potions because you want your victim to swallow them unnoticed, Dean recalled. If it took away their use, adding glauberries would be pointless. They were not an antidote.

“What if it won’t? I need to still be able to protect us.” Castiel sounded worried.

“It just enhances your senses, right? Your fighting skills are your own.” Dean tried to reassure him.

“But…”

“Do you trust me?” Dean asked again. When Castiel nodded, he added, “Then trust me.”

With another nod, Castiel visibly relaxed and Dean started to apply his paste. He made sure not to linger - this was a serious situation, he was basically applying a self-made counter-spell and if he failed… - but Castiel’s skin was soft and there was just so much of it.

By the time he was done, the paste was gone and they were both shivering. Dean cleared his throat a few times before he was able to speak again. “How do you feel? Any different?”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he bit his lip once again. But then he shook himself and sniffed the air. “Willow pollen, geeseflowers, low levels of ozone.” He smiled at Dean. “I think I’m good.”

Dean mentally patted himself on the back. “But how do we find out if it cloaks you?”

Castiel cocked his head. “I know where to go to make sure.”

***

Even though he’d never been to the monastery, Dean instantly recognized it from his dream. This was the place Castiel had been hidden in and trained after they met that night in the forest all those years ago. Now, they were hiding in the shrubbery about a mile away, watching cloaked figures hurry to and from the main entrance gate.

“They’re nervous,” Castiel observed. “Good.”

Dean looked at him. He couldn’t quite shake the images from that night. The woman with the red hair, Anna, her lifeless eyes…

“Wait here.” Castiel rushed off without a glance back and Dean watched him follow two of the figures stealthily. They were off track, heading towards the forest Dean and Castiel had come from and before they even realized they were being followed, Castiel was on them. He broke the neck of the first person and tumbled down the second before they could even utter a sound. Dean was equal parts impressed as he was horrified. When the cloaks came off, Dean saw that one of them had been a woman with long, dark hair.

Castiel soon returned with the two cloaks under his arm and newly disguised, they were able to the monastery undetected. Dean stayed as close to his companion as possible without looking suspicious, but with his satchel hidden underneath the cloak, he wasn’t quite so harmless himself. Maybe he could blind some of them enough so they’d kill each other instead of them. Dean shuddered when he realized just how useless he would actually be in a fight and was grateful when Castiel led them trough mostly empty corridors. Through the cloak, he could make out the faint yellow glow, shining through his coating. It must be stronger now that they were surrounded. He wondered if Castiel could feel it, if adrenaline might cloud his judgement. And why did they think this was a good idea to begin with?

“How could you lose him? Tell me, Zachariah. It’s not like he could cut off his skin.” A voice boomed at them from a room at the end of the corridor.

“Maybe he’s dead?” Someone else suggested.

“I’ll believe he’s dead when you bring me his head on a stick!” The first person yelled.

“Maybe he’s found him.”

There was silence, then someone whispered, “Him?”

“His partner. The prophecy, it’s all coming together. When he finds his other half, he’ll be forever lost to us and it will be the beginning of the end. Maybe forever lost means that we can’t track him anymore.”

“Don’t be absurd, Gadreel. The prophecy would not be quite so literal.”

“Says who?”

“Nghaaaah!” Someone screamed in anger and there was a loud crash of things being knocked over.

Dean’s gaze fell on Castiel and he realized Castiel was preparing for battle. His cloak was half off and he was carrying a sword. Dean didn’t even wonder where he picked it up, he just knew this was a terribly bad idea. “Don’t,” he whispered, placing his hand on Castiel’s arm.

“I have to,” Castiel reasoned. “Now’s my chance.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s suicide. You think the two of us can take on this whole monastery?” Even Castiel wasn’t that good. With more time, Dean could prepare bombs and come up with a few battle potions, but as it was, they wouldn’t make it out alive.

Castiel’s eyes flicked back and forth between the room and Dean. Finally he relented, his arm lowering the sword. “You’re right.” He glanced back one last time. “We’ll come back though, yes?”

“We’ll be back. Armed and ready.” And Dean didn’t just say it, he meant it. It hadn’t just been Castiel who’d lost his home to those monks. Even though he didn’t know the definite fate of his friends and mentors at St. Lawrence, he was convinced at least some of them were dead.

Castiel nodded once and then masked his appearance again. He led them down different corridors this time and Dean stopped cold when they came upon a painting that appeared to be of Castiel and a green-eyed boy with short cropped hair that was looking a whole lot like Dean himself. There was scripture underneath, but Dean didn’t recognize the language.

“That’s us,” he marvelled out loud. But Dean hadn’t spotted the two monks on their same path until just now. They also stopped and were looking over.

Castiel shouted out an angry curse in a language Dean suspected was the same as the scripture’s. Then he waved two fingers at the painting and spat on the floor. Apparently it was the right thing to do, because the other two monks laughed and repeated the gesture. Seizing the moment, Dean and Castiel quickly made their exit.

Once they were safely back in the forest, they shed the cloaks and sought shelter for the night.

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Dean asked when they had settled down.

“It’s an old prophecy,” Castiel started. “A child will be born at midnight under a new moon and it will bring with it a stream of red.” He looked at Dean. “That’s me. My mother died in childbirth.”

Dean moved closer and wrapped a comforting arm around the other boy. “My mom died when I was very young.” It wasn’t the same, but…

Castiel smiled at him meekly. “Actually it’s all quite long and boring. To give you the short version, I am destined to wipe out the Angelics, a secluded but powerful cult. The sad thing is, if they hadn’t tried to kill me, if they hadn’t succeeded in killing those of their own who sought to protect me, who didn’t believe in the prophecy at first, then I’d have no reason to fulfil it.”

Dean pulled him in a little closer. “But that’s not all, is it?”

“The prophecy calls for a partner. A powerful wizard to aid the destroyer in his quest. That’s you, Dean.” Castiel turned to look him in the eye, to make sure he understood.

“But I’m not a powerful wizard.” Dean almost laughed. “I’m nobody.”

“Did you not cloak me with basically a handful of berries? You know how many monks tried what you just did instinctively when they found out the Angelics were able to track me?” Castiel reached up to cup Dean’s cheek. “You’re very powerful. I’m afraid before this is all over, you’ll find out just how far your limits go. And I am very sorry for dragging you into this, Dean. I really am.”

“But it’s not your fault,” Dean protested.

“If I hadn’t run into you, if I hadn’t accompanied you to your school…”

“Castiel, I saw my face on the painting. You didn’t create the prophecy.” Dean wrapped him up in a hug, only satisfied when Castiel returned the squeeze. “It’s not your fault.”

Castiel let out a deep breath and hugged him tighter before letting go. “So you’re with me?”

“Of course.” Dean took his hand and interlaced their fingers. “Where do we start?”

“We pick them up little by little, hunt them down like they have hunted me. And once their numbers have dwindled, we go back and we destroy the inner circle.” Castiel almost seemed happy at the prospect. “Revenge,” he whispered reverently.

“And then?” Dean asked.

“And then we’ll make our own destiny.” Castiel smiled at him.

Dean looked out into the dark forest, huddling close to his companion and seeking his warmth while considering all that had transpired in the past few days. Prophecies, destiny; him a great wizard. It all still seemed alien to him. But he couldn’t deny the pull he felt towards Castiel, the strong urge to help and protect him. It came with the knowledge that Castiel would do the same for him. They were each other’s refuge and together, they would be unstoppable.

If there was one thing Dean was still sure of, this was it. They’d get through this, just like Castiel had said. And in the end, they would find their own way, make their own destiny. Together.

Stop The Time (Dean/Cas, AU, NC-17)

2014-02-04T18:45:37Z

Title: Stop The Time
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 3.200
Spoilers/Warnings: tail!play, wing!play, teacher/student (age: 19)
Summary: In a universe where new celestial beings have a choice between angel and devil, Dean considers going devil. The trouble is? He’s in love with the angel Castiel.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on chef_geekier’s art prompt located HERE. Title snagged from an Adrian Glynn song. Thanks to ongiara for spell-checking.

=> AO3 <=

“I don’t get why we need to learn all this crap about portals,” Dean complained in a not so subtle whisper. “It’s not like I’m ever going to need it.”

Castiel clenched his teeth, the chalk creaking on the blackboard as he applied too much pressure. When would he ever learn not to let it get to him? Not let him get to him.

“Well,” Dean continued, getting louder. “At least the teacher is nice to look at.” He wolf-whistled, and Castiel cringed.

“Dean. I will see you after class.” Castiel’s gaze remained firmly fixed on the blackboard and he was proud of how steady his voice sounded.

Apparently that was all Dean had wanted, because he kept silent while Castiel finished his lesson. As soon as the choir chimed over the speakers to announce the end of class, the other students scurried out of the room. Dean propped his feet up on the table, his tail coming up to wave at Castiel suggestively.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. C?” Dean asked.

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you not to call me that. I am an angel, as you are fully aware. My name is Castiel. I do not require titles.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean leaned forward. “So, the usual?” He started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Dean. No!” Castiel held up a hand. “I meant to talk to you about your choice.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s made.” Dean stopped with his buttons and curled in on himself defiantly.

“You’re barely nineteen. You still have two full years to make up your mind. Nobody requires you to choose now. And even if you think you are ready, nobody will be mad if you change your mind in a year and become…” Castiel trailed off.

“What? An angel like you?” Dean scoffed. “You know why I…”

“No,” Castiel interrupted. “You can never become like me. I was created, you were born. That’s why you can become so much more, so much better. Dean, if you choose…”

“Don’t.” Dean sat upright. “I know you think I’m good and noble, but I’m not. Sammy is…”

”Your brother is an anomaly,” Castiel’s voice had become colder, he couldn’t help it. He knew Sam was Dean’s brother, but Sam was tainted.

“Just because he chose at fourteen and already went through the ritual doesn’t mean he’s a freak. It just means he’s sure of himself. And besides, he’s way too smart for normal education anyways.” Dean raised his chin, clearly proud of his brother.

Castiel sighed, thinking back to when he’d first met Dean. He’d transferred schools because they had been afraid of him at his other school, even the teachers. His brother had just gone through the ritual and had been chosen to be trained by the Morningstar himself. Most angels believed he was the Anti-Christ incarnated, but Castiel still had hopes for young Sam. Just because you chose to be a demon, did not mean you automatically had to become evil as well.

Then he’d met Dean. Behind all the gruff exterior and all the trouble he got himself into, Castiel could see his goodness, see how pure he was. He never picked on anyone younger than him. On the contrary, Dean had gotten in many a fight protecting the weak. He may also goof around in class frequently, but he was an avid student.

And Castiel had been drawn to him like a moth to the flame. Maybe he harboured a little bit of a saviour complex, or maybe Dean’s rebellious side spoke to him, reminded him of himself back in his younger years. Of course it was against regulations, but there was nothing wrong with what they shared. Dean opened up to him and Castiel finally learned what it truly meant to be born celestial, what it meant to have a choice.

Almost a hundred years ago, their breed was dying out. There were no new angels. There couldn’t be. But then Metatron came up with a spell and a potion and a new generation was born. The problem was angels were not the only celestial beings. Lucifer and his fallen angels had been cursed to become devils, but the same blood still ran through their veins. It soon became clear that the new breed of celestial beings stood before a choice and a ritual was created.

Until they turned twenty-one, they could learn, look at all the angles, the bad that came with the good and the good that came with the supposed pure evil and then decide what they truly wanted to become. There was a big coming-of-age ceremony and another potion to cement their new true form. Sam had been the first to challenge that rule. Castiel just hoped others wouldn’t follow. The age had been set at twenty-one for a reason. You just couldn’t grasp it all before and maybe even that was too young.

Castiel was brought out of his reverie by a tug on his wrist. Dean’s tail. Castiel couldn’t help a small smile as he let himself be pulled closer.

“Come on, Cas. I know you like it when I do this.” The tail came up under Castiel’s shirt and pushed it up, caressing his stomach in the process.

Castiel shivered, reaching down to take a hold of Dean’s tail to keep it from exploring further. “That’s not the point. I’m fine with whatever form you choose, if that is truly your choice.”

“This is my choice,” Dean replied stubbornly.

“I know you, Dean. I’ve flown with you when you had wings. Are you really going to tell me you’re not going to miss that?” Castiel itched to take off his shirt and unfurl his wings to remind him.

Dean looked wistful. “You could take me flying, couldn’t you?”

“You’re going be afraid of heights when you complete your transformation. You’ll strive to live underground. You’re creatures of dirt and fire. You can’t soar up high anymore, you’ll freeze to death.” Castiel stroked Dean’s tail lovingly. It wasn’t the form per se. He could get used to it. But they could never be.

“So you’ll get a heatstroke when you visit me in my underground cave?” Dean frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Dean, where do you think this is going?” Castiel asked, kneeling down in front of him. Dean’s wings had come out defiantly. But devils could only grow a perverted form, they wouldn’t support their weight. It was part of God’s punishment - to taunt them with what once had been.

Dean placed a hand in Castiel’s hair, caressing the silken strands. “I don’t know, Cas. As you said, I’m only nineteen…”

“So you’re old enough to choose what you want to be for the rest of your life, but not who you want to be with?” Castiel challenged.

“No, that’s not…” Dean trailed off. “You know I… you know I love you, Castiel.” Dean looked away as if he couldn’t bear to say the words. “And we’re already hiding. Nothing has to change.”

“Everything will change, Dean.” Castiel reached for Dean’s hand and kissed his palm. “Angels mate for life. You think I want to keep hiding you away for eternity? This is bad enough.”

“But dating a student is still acceptable? Dating a devil is not?” Dean pulled his hand back. “Now who’s being judgemental?”

“Neither is wrong in the eyes of God, as long as our love is pure. But if you become a devil, you will never be able to truly love me. To just love me.”

“Not all devils are promiscuous sluts. Seriously, Cas, you keep saying you’ll accept my choice, but do you even associate with devils?”

Castiel bit back his initial reply about them being amoral, devious creatures, the whole lot. “I’ll associate with you. And I’d like to meet your brother.”

Dean’s face brightened. “Sam’s coming to visit next week. I’ll introduce you. He’s not evil, you’ll see.”

Castiel smiled back. “That’s what prompted your sudden change in conviction though, isn’t it? You want to show your brother you’re just like him. You don’t want him to see you in your angel form.”

“Everything you said earlier.” Dean bit his lip. “He’s my brother. How can I become a different creature?”

“You’ll still share the same blood.” Castiel gripped Dean’s leg encouragingly. “It’s different for you. As I said before, you’re born, you have family, you have choices. But you’ll always be family, nothing can change that.”

“Still…”

”Dean. Just promise me one thing. Don’t rush this. Wait until you’re twenty-one, as is custom. In turn I promise to accept and support whatever choice you make.” He looked up hopefully.

“What is it to you, anyway?” Dean challenged.

“Because I love you, too, Dean. And I care for you. And…” Castiel blushed when Dean smirked at him. “And you know all of this.”

“I like to hear you say it.” Dean leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then he leaned back and let his tail sneak under Castiel’s shirt again. “Now where were we?”

“If you paid any attention in my class, you could create a portal and sent us to my bedroom.” Castiel winked.

“But that’s angel magic.” Dean’s tail drooped from where it had been nestled under Castiel’s shirt.

“Well you could always…” Castiel stopped himself when he saw Dean’s face. He shouldn’t trick him into changing forms. That would be wrong. Besides, he’d never admit it out loud, but Dean had a point earlier. The tail had a certain… charm. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll prepare it as per your instructions.”

Dean snorted. “Always the teacher, eh, Mr. C?”

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” Castiel complained.

“Because you’re cute when you get worked up.” Dean smirked and ruffled his hair.

Castiel had a reply on hand, but Dean actually looked at his notes and proceeded to talk Castiel through the spell.

When they landed in his bedroom, Castiel was rather proud. But if he told Dean that, it would spoil the mood. Besides, they were in his chambers now. Castiel wasn’t Dean’s teacher anymore. When they started out, this had been the rule. Castiel was just an equal outside the school, but inside the halls, there was a strict line. Of course Dean lived to break rules, and Castiel, it seemed, was powerless to his charms. Still. He felt better being in the privacy of his own four walls.

And he’d pushed Dean far enough for the day. Castiel sat down on his bed and opened his arms. “Alright, show me what you can do with that tail of yours, devil.”

Dean smirked and pushed at Castiel’s shirt again. Castiel helped him get it off all the way. “Show me your wings, angel.” Dean demanded.

With a sigh of relief, Castiel let them unfold and spread out widely. He flapped twice before pulling them back in a little. Dean looked at him in awe. He always got that look when looking at Castiel’s wings. But whenever he was in angel form himself, Castiel found he rarely seemed to admire himself. Maybe that was it. Dean didn’t think he deserved wings.

“Mmm,” Dean hummed. He knelt down on top of Castiel and carefully caressed the wings. “Can I?” he asked, tail wrapped around Castiel’s shoulder.

This was something they hadn’t done before. Dean was crafty with his tail, but he never strayed from Castiel’s skin. “Please,” he whispered in reply, a little nervous.

Dean hissed as soon as his tail was buried in Castiel’s wings. And Castiel could feel it, too. It burned, but not too badly. It was a weird kind of tingle. Not unpleasant, actually. He bit his lip and looked up at Dean, who looked equally stunned. He pulled him in for a deep kiss while Dean snaked through his feathers, exploring the structure of his wings with his tail. Castiel stroked back, welcoming him as best as he could.

The burn slowly spread and soon his whole body was tingling. Dean shivered against him and pulled his tail back. Castiel took a hold of it before Dean could hide it away and stroked it thoughtfully between his fingers. “Does it hurt?”

Dean shook his head. “It just got… too intense.”

Castiel let go and instead proceeded to kiss him. He unbuttoned Dean’s shirt the rest of the way and pushed it off his shoulders, bringing his wings forward to caress Dean’s naked back. Dean shivered again, but more pleasantly so. Castiel wrapped them up in a cocoon of white until Dean writhed against him restlessly.

Pulling his wings back, Castiel moved up the bed to give them more room. Dean’s tail was back, circling his nipples and pulling them gently. He moaned, his hands buried in Dean’s hair to keep him close. This he would miss, he had to admit.

Dean caressed Castiel’s back, going back to his wings ever so often. Meanwhile his tail had grown bolder and was trying to open Castiel’s pants unsuccessfully. They both broke apart on a laugh. “Much as you would like to pretend this is a third hand, devil, that’s not really how it works.” Castiel grinned and took pity on Dean, opening the buttons himself.

The tail immediately snaked inside his pants to wrap around his erection. Castiel let out a surprised yelp.

“Guess I’ll have to find other uses for it then, angel.” Dean nibbled at Castiel’s lower lip, his tail firmly wrapped around Castiel’s cock and moving forwards and backwards in a fluid motion.

Castiel gripped his shoulders. “Dean. Dean!” His fingernails raked down Dean’s back as he tried to get a hold of himself.

With a last squeeze, Dean let go. “Devil, one, angel, zero.”

With a sudden movement, Castiel wrapped his arms more firmly around Dean and used his wings to reverse their positions and hover over the bed for a second. He dropped Dean and fell down on top of him, pinning Dean’s hands above his head. He whispered a command and Dean’s hands were shackled above him.

Dean frowned. “Not fair using spells I haven’t learned yet.” He struggled futilely.

“Says who?” Castiel kissed his way down Dean’s chest, using his upper wing feathers to caress the skin his lips just left. Dean moaned and rolled a little to the side. When his tail came up to slap Castiel’s ass, Castiel knew why. “Brat,” He looked up at Dean, then bit down on Dean’s lower stomach, making him moan again.

Castiel unbuttoned Dean’s pants and slowly took them down. He paid close attention to the inside of Dean’s thighs, kissing and biting the sensitive skin. Dean writhed and eventually his tail let go of Castiel’s ass and came up to wrap around his own erection.

Castiel was about to snatch it away, but seeing the crestfallen look on Dean’s face, he didn’t. “So this is the real reason for the form, is it, Dean?” Castiel whispered. “More ways to get yourself off.” Castiel has never been a horny teenager, or actually, he’s never really been horny at all before he met Dean, but the deep blush on Dean’s cheeks still gave him some satisfaction.

Deciding to try something, Castiel fluttered his wings and caressed Dean’s cock along with the tail. Dean yelped and Castiel drew back. “Too much?”

“No,” Dean shook his head, biting his lip hard. “No, keep going. Just… please.”

Castiel carefully fluttered his wings again and if he could feel the slight burn, then so could Dean. He watched him carefully, his own erection painfully hard and getting harder with the way Dean was writhing and keening. When sweat broke out on Dean’s forehead, he decided it was enough.

Retracting his wings, Castiel swallowed Dean’s protests by replacing them with his lips instead. Now getting the attention he wanted, Dean’s tail made way for Castiel to engulf him fully. He slowly moved up and down, relaxing his throat and letting Dean hit the back of it.

He was so enraptured in Dean’s taste, that he didn’t even noticed the tail until it was back between his legs, poking at his entrance. Castiel let go with a shocked gasp.

“Too much?” Dean asked him this time and Castiel would bet he was now as equally flushed as Dean had been just minutes before.

He couldn’t say it though, he just shook his head and shucked out of his pants a little more.

Dean grinned at him. “You’re naughty, angel. Letting a devil do this to you.” His tail wormed its way forward, breeching Castiel’s entrance, and with a start, Castiel moved away. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t take it tonight.

Castiel whispered a new command and Dean’s restraints vanished. He moved up and placed his hands on Dean’s cheeks, holding him still for a deep, needy kiss. Then he turned them around so that Dean was on top again. “Next time,” Castiel promised, nipping Dean’s jaw.

“Whatever you say, angel.” Dean looked at him without mirth, stroking his cheek and leaning in for another, much softer kiss. And this was just the point Castiel had wanted to make. Dean was essentially good. He could have pushed and Castiel would have caved, but he didn’t.

Dean wrapped a hand around both of their erections and began stroking them. After a few paces, Castiel joined him, interlacing their fingers and creating a tunnel for the both of them to thrust through together.

They were kissing and panting, sharing each other’s breath until they both reached completion at the same time. Dean hummed in satisfaction and cuddled close. Castiel’s wings wrapped around them again, just as Castiel’s arms held Dean closely. Dean’s tail was back in his feathers, but now, for whatever reason, it just felt blissfully warm. No burn, just a comfortable pleasure.

“I’m sorry for pushing you, Cas.” Dean mumbled.

“Don’t be. You didn’t.” Castiel kissed his temple. “Besides, you know I need a good push every now and then.” It’s why Dean broke through his shell in the first place.

Dean chuckled softly. “Same here,” he admitted. “That’s why we’re so good for each other.”

There was no argument in that. Castiel let out a deep breath. “But what…”

“Don’t.” Dean interrupted him. “We’ll worry when the time comes.” There was a short pause. “Maybe… maybe when my brother is gone, I will make the switch again. You were right about the flying. I miss it. I should use every opportunity I still have, before I’m twenty-one.”

There were a lot of things Castiel could reply to that. But in the end, there was really only one thing to say. “Tomorrow, we’ll try to fly like this. Your tail certainly seems strong enough to hold on.”

Dean was silent. The expected chuckle didn’t come. Instead, he snuggled closer and placed a kiss upon Castiel’s heart. “I love you,” he whispered into his skin.

Castiel held on a little tighter and closed his eyes.

=> Art post <=

Come out from the Alamo (Coda to 9x09)

2013-12-29T22:25:57Z

Title: Come out from the Alamo
Author: Vera
Characters: Dean, Castiel, gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 2.000
Summary: Coda to 9x09: Holy Terror, takes place a few days after
Spoilers: You need to have seen 9x09 before reading this!
Author’s Note: Written for whithertits as part of the spn_j2_xmas gift exchange, based on her prompt/like ‘being depressed at Christmas’. Fic title stolen from “Wicked Calamity Jane” by Bethany Joy Lenz.

=> AO3 <=

Dean grabbed his duffel and took one last look around. Just a short while ago, the bunker had been a home to him. It’s not like nothing evil had ever happened here – Charlie died, for fuck’s sake- but Zeke had been there to fix it again. Zeke had made everything better. Fixed his brother, fixed Charlie, gave Dean a reason to keep going. Because alone…

He took a deep breath and turned his back. Alone. That’s what he was again. Zeke wasn’t Zeke, his brother was... was… temporarily abducted by an angel. That’s what he was. Dean couldn’t even think about the other options. Had he inadvertently banished his own brother with his own spell? No. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. That bastard tricked him. Sam was just sleeping. And as soon as he was better, he’d come out and cast that son of a bitch out. Hell, Sam had beaten Lucifer, what was one more angel on that list?

But this place, the false safety it exuded? That’s what had to change. Two days ago he’d set a pyre for Kevin. One more death on his conscience. One more death on the bunker. And this time, no angel could turn it around. Cas had taken one look at Kevin and Dean had read it all over his face. He never should have left his guard down, never should have believed everything could finally be good for them. Sure, the angels were all around, but Sam was okay, Kevin was safely warded in the bunker, they’d beat this. Dean should have known better.

Crowley was still here, left in the dungeons. But he could rot in there for all Dean cared. He hadn’t even gone in to see him after it all went down. Crowley would have known and Dean couldn’t have taken the taunts. He wasn’t quite ready yet to accept the truth. To have another person confirm that this was all his fault. That he was bad luck. There was never any happiness for Dean Winchester. Not in this lifetime and certainly not wherever he went after he finally died. Heaven, hell. Different sides of the same torture coin. And purgatory was closed to him. He was human. If option C existed, he’d have blown his brains out long ago.

He briefly considered lighting the bunker on fire to go out with a real bang, but Dean knew that when his brother was back, he’d scold him for destroying all this knowledge. And Sam would be back and then they’d return and while it would never again be home for Dean, maybe it could be for Sam. And that would be enough for Dean as well.

So instead he just climbed up the stairs, opened the door… and came face to face with a distraught looking Castiel clutching a wrapped present in his hand and fumbling for his phone with the other.

“Oh,” Castiel startled when he saw Dean. “Never mind then.” He slipped the phone back in his pocket. “I was looking for a doorbell when…”

”Cas?” Dean interrupted him.

“Yes.” Castiel stilled and cocked his head.

“I… what…why…?” And then he broke. Dean had pretty much kept it together up until that point, but seeing Cas after so many days of solitude, with only his sins to haunt him? His final and maybe most gruesome failure. If he hadn’t send Cas away, if only he’d listened to his gut and not false!Zeke. Maybe then Kevin would still be alive and Sam would still be around as well.

Dean didn’t cry, he just suddenly shook all over, his ears clogging up so all he could hear was his own blood rushing frantically and as his vision swam, his knees buckled and Castiel was there to hold him up.

“Dean,” he said. “I know.” His arms were wrapped firmly around him. “I know.” Dean’s duffel dropped and he wrapped his arms limply around Castiel. “I heard you,” Castiel whispered in his neck and Dean didn’t think it was meant for him to be understood, but Castiel’s voice pierced through the noise in his head and the fog cleared up and when Dean was finally able to catch a breath again, he noticed that his cheeks were wet. As was Castiel’s jacket.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, disentangling himself. And he didn’t just mean the jacket.

“It’s okay,” Castiel replied. “I understand.” There was hurt swinging with his voice and Dean knew he didn’t just talk about the jacket either. “Where are we going?” Castiel asked.

“Anywhere but here.” Dean was tempted to ask Cas if he had a lead on his brother, but he knew that if he did, he’d have said so already.

Castiel nodded and bent to pick up the strange package. Dean grabbed his duffel and they headed to the Impala wordlessly, Castiel settling down in the passenger seat. Where Sam would be cramped up, Castiel fit comfortable. And that somehow felt wrong. There should be a cramped up, complaining gigantor sitting next to him, not an angel with blue eyes staring at him in understanding, waiting for him to talk first.

It took him three towns and a gas station until Dean finally got it. It was Christmas Day and that was probably why Castiel kept clutching at that present of his. Dean eyed it properly for the first time. It was wrapped with care in colourful ornament paper, no bows or ribbons to adorn it. It was wrapped perfectly. He felt a pang, remembering exchanging hastily paper-wrapped Christmas gifts with his brother. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“I know.” Castiel said and there was a small smile playing his lips. “You can make it up to me on my birthday.”

Dean almost swerved the car. “You have a birthday?”

”Don’t be ridiculous, Dean.” Castiel left him hanging for a minute or two before he continued. “Of course not. Although one could have argued that the day my grace was stolen would be something of a birthday. But I didn’t stay human long enough to celebrate.”

“Do you miss it?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked at him, then away. “I can’t fight this war being human. I was of no help to you either.”

Dean wanted to protest, but he couldn’t. Maybe if Castiel had done his little trick and gotten his damn grace back earlier, then Sam would still be around and Kevin would still be alive. Why had he waited so long anyway, if he could have just taken any angel’s random grace? Sure, Cas had told him there’d be consequences, but so what? The consequences to having been human were far graver.

And maybe Dean was being an ungrateful ass, but whatever he could do to share the blame. Castiel could take it. Dean on the other hand wasn’t so sure how much longer he could keep carrying his burdens alone. His fingers itched for the flask in his jacket. He’d had his last drink at least an hour ago. It was starting to wear off and that was unacceptable.

“There seems to be a suitable motel just off on the next exit,” Castiel remarked

Dean glanced at the sign. “Rest Easy Motel”. No specials or extras proclaimed. He shrugged. Good as any.

They stopped and Dean got them a room, two queens like usual, even if he didn’t know how long Cas would stay and if he even still required sleep now. He’d hoped a little normalcy would feel good, but instead he was feeling that pang of wrongness again. He was here with Castiel while his brother was out there, getting mind raped by an angel.

There was a decorated Christmas tree in the corner on his way out, and Dean balled up a brochure to throw down the angel on top. The ornament fell with a clatter and Dean stepped on it to finish the job. The crunching noise made him feel better.

He went to join Cas who’d been waiting for him outside by the car and upon entering their room, Dean’s face actually lit up. “Hey, I know what I can get you for Christmas!” He fished in his wallet for coins and threw one at Castiel.

“Small currency? I do not understand.” Castiel looked at the dime in his hand doubtfully.

“Dude, it’s for the bed.” Dean pointed at the cash slot and hopped down on his, feeding the slot and closing his eyes. He let out a deep sigh when his bed started vibrating and got satisfied when about a minute later, he could hear Castiel’s bed vibrating as well.

“While I do not have sore limbs anymore, I can appreciate the gesture.” Castiel mumbled. “Thank you, Dean.”

”Shush,” Dean growled. “Don’t ruin it.”

For the next fifteen minutes, all he could hear was the vibrations of the bed – and Castiel moving around restlessly. But Sam would be equally as annoying, so the noise actually kind of made Dean happy.

When it stopped, he slowly sat up and found Castiel already upright and staring at him. He was still clutching his present and now held it out unceremoniously.

Dean couldn’t help a smile as he accepted and opened it. It was a hunting knife. Similar to the one Sam used, Ruby’s spelled demon slaying edition. He looked up hopefully. “Does it kill…?”

”Anything allergic to silver,” Castiel finished for him. “Nothing more. I’m sorry, Dean.”

”Don’t be,” Dean weighted it in his hand. As gifts went, this was pretty damn near perfect. And that sucked. He was overcome by guilt again. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I bought it with my own pay check,” Castiel explained proudly.

And that just made it worse. Dean cringed. “Do you still have your job at the Gas-N-Sip?”

“I don’t require nourishment anymore.” Castiel looked out the window.

“So no?” Dean prodded.

“It would be imprudent of me. Besides, I have a job. I’ll find a way to open heaven and bring peace for my brother and sisters again.” Castiel looked determined.

Dean made a noise somewhere between a snort and a growl. “Maybe we should think about killing them, once and for all.”

“The angels? You want to kill the angels?” Castiel had gone still.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but your brothers and sisters? They’re all dicks. And they can all go to hell for all I care.” Dean’s hand clenched around the knife. There really was no difference between demons and angels. None of them should be walking the earth.

“But that’s not what happens, Dean. We vanish out of existence.”

“Well good riddance.” Dean glared at him.

“Dean.” Dean was surprised to find a look full of anger on Castiel’s face. It was soon replaced by disappointment before it smoothed back into Castiel’s usual non-committal blank stare. “I should leave you alone. If I hear about Sam, I will let you know.”

”Yeah, okay.” Dean slumped back down on the bed, closing his eyes. ‘Stay,’ he wanted to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ he should beg. ‘I didn’t mean all angels.’ But that would be a lie. At this point, he meant it. All of them. The whole damn lot has brought him nothing but pain and misery. And it’s caused him to inflict more pain and misery unto others. Maybe he should have stayed in hell. At least the souls he tortured there had deserved it. But Kevin? Sam? Benny, Frank and Bobby and countless others. They all had suffered because of him.

When he was certain Castiel had disappeared, he got out his flask and took a gratuitous sip. Then he fed the slot again and closed his eyes, letting the vibrations lull him into a short, but blissfully dreamless slumber, his right hand still clutching his new knife tightly.

Tomorrow he’d get up and start hunting them down. One of them had to know where his brother was. And if anyone knew ways to get people to talk, it was Dean Winchester. And if they wouldn’t talk? There were plenty of other angels around these days and Dean also knew how to kill them.

Insurgence 5

2013-06-19T20:20:36Z

It's just so sad what happened with Gabe Tigerman's wife. I hope people will have some money left to donate for her, what with so frigging many fundraisers and kickstarters happening right now.

And I really have to rectify my other post. That Vampire Diaries convention in Birmingham was awesome!! The amount of short-dressed high-heeled girlies was super low. Instead I met so many super nice people. Almost every time I was queueing for something, someone turned around, asked me if I was alone and then proceeded to talk to me until we got to what we had lined up for. That was really awesome! The only thing that sucked was that a lot of them were reserving seats for a whole bunch of people. Without putting anything on the seat. So I'd go to a row, happy to find an empty seat, only to then get informed "oh, no, those seats are ALL taken". After five rows with the same answer, every goddamn time before a panel, you start to get slightly pissed off.

Also, people have been littering like there's no tomorrow. If you looked down the seats, you'd find a whole bunch of food wrappers, but also glasses - broken or not - batteries, bottles... just huge amounts of trash. Seeing how just about everybody was sucking up to Ian about ISF and how awesome it is and yes, let us all be active and do something for our future, waste management would be a good way to start, you morons. Just saying. I packed my food wrappers in my bag and then threw then in the trash can later. Unless it would have been batteries. Those are toxic waste. But whatever. "I donated money, so now my conscience is clean." o.O

But yeah, that aside, it was a bunch of lovely people. And the panels were super inspiring. Just about all of them, but especially Ian and Nate, kept telling us to follow our dreams, to chase them, to never give up, to be persistent and to find the thing that makes us happy. I was all woeful at the end of it all, because I know what makes me happy, and I've been neglecting it like the lazy "giver-upper" I am. Though Ian warned us about resolutions, because those wopuld set us up to fail and be unhappy. He also warned about thinking that you had to know just what you want to do with the rest of your life with 18, because that would rarely happen. And right he is. I was super insecure back at that age, because everybody in my class was all "and I want to become ..." when asked and my answer was just "uhm, I dunno. I wanna write for a TV mag?" (Which, just for the record, is still my dream job. LOL.)

Nate brought me to tears when he talked about his past and his mom. He asked us not to share it, so I won't. Even though I'm pretty sure it's all over the internet anyways. Ian seemed a little depressed about everything, candice was a little less depressed about the downside of being an actress than last week, but overall none of them made you wish you had their jobs. That was also kind of awesome, especially today with the instant fame of some reality show folks. None of the kids at that con got exposed to "and omg, my life is so awesome. Party 24/7. Fame, you guys, FAME." Instead all of them told us what hard work it is and how emotionally draining work on TVD can be. And let's not forget Nate with his 5-years of fruitless job search - and it's not like he has a nice cushion now. He was in how many episodes? Three? - But he was still happy and grateful. That's what I mean about inspiring. The job kinda sucks and it's a struggle, but it's what they want to do, so they work hard.

Ian seemed really unhappy with Damon lately. He misses the old days, when Damon was actually scary and unpredictable. Apparently Paul was also really unhappy with his storyline lately. So Ian is happy Paul will get some better stories next season.

Seb got so weepy that this was not the Supernatural cast, he played them all the SPN Harlem Shake and con videos backstage and insisted they all do it. Thank you, Seb, because now we got some real nice Matt, Nate and Seb dancing. :) Kat insisted this was not the Harlem Shake and showed us the proper 90s dance move by that name, but I don't think she actually knew what the internet Harlem Shake is. Because who the fuck cares what that was in the 90s? ;)

Seb also made a lot of fun of Rick, and he didn't apologize for it (he also made fun of Paul, but always apologized and added what an awesome guy he was), so IMO, he has the same impression of Rick that I have.

And the scrapbook is currently not properly loading, so photo ops tomorrow. Also maybe more, I stopped my report when a colleague entered the office. *coughs*

Drabble: Meanwhile At The Ackles'

2013-06-12T12:28:36Z

Meanwhile at the Ackles‘

“Goodnight, J,“ Jensen said with a warm smile, looking up when his wife entered the kitchen.

“Goodnight, J!” She joined in, loud enough to be heard on the other end of the receiver.

“Goodnight, J,” Jared replied before disconnecting the call.

Jensen stood up, kissing Danneel on the cheek and together they entered their daughter’s room. “Goodnight, J,” Jensen leaned down to stroke over her cheek.

“Goodnight, J,” Danneel repeated softly, tucking their already sleeping daughter a little tighter into her blankets.

On their way to the master bedroom, they passed their friend Jason, who had passed out on the couch a little earlier. “Goodnight, J,” Danneel chirped before kissing his forehead and chuckling, when Jason tried to slap at the irritation.

“Goodnight, J,” Jensen flicked at Jason’s ear.

“G’night, J,” Jason mumbled, hand fumbling blindly to shoo away the invisible fly.

Jensen and his wife grinned at each other and, hands linked, they made their way into their own bed.

“Goodnight, J,” Danneel cooed, giving Jensen a brief kiss on the lips.

“Goodnight, Danneel,” Jensen emphasized her name and winked.

“Oh, that’s it, you fuckers!” She slapped his shoulder. “I’m officially changing my name to Jessica.”

Jensen bit his lip, a dreamy look entering his eyes. “I always had the biggest crush on Jessica Rabbit.”

Danneel groaned. “I know. You and every other male on this planet. It’s why my agent even suggested it when I first came out here.”

“Seriously?” Jensen couldn’t stifle his laughter. “You never told me that.”

“It’s embarrassing, that’s why. I’m not a cartoon character,” she huffed.

“Goodnight, J,” he teased her, picturing Danneel in Jessica’s dress, maybe singing to him in a half-lit room.

“Goodnight, Roger.” Danneel ruffled his hair, knowing him well enough by now to understand the look on his face. “I’ll wear it if you put on rabbit ears,” she whispered in his ear, sidling up close. “Uuuh, and a rabbit’s tail.” He couldn’t see it in the dark, but she was blushing.

“Deal.” Jensen sealed it with a kiss.

Fandoms. Why mine is better than yours. For me.

2013-06-11T16:25:16Z

I tried AROHA today, in a sports class offered by my employer. It didn't sound as brutal as it was. Apparently the guy who developed it learned from the Maori, and it was a lot of those Haka steps, or well, that is just what it was. The whole time. It just increased in speed and the arm movements changed a few times, but it was deep steps without any pause. And she didn't warn us or have us stretch. So after 20 minutes, my untrained leg muscles started cramping, nevermind that my whole legs were one shivering mess anyways. So I gave up and left. To my great shame, since the co-workers stayed. But... I need my legs fully functioning and not hurting this weekend, thank you very much.

I should have questioned it when I found out there's only one website about it, it's only in German, and it's ridiculously amateurish coding.

Anyways. The Vampire Diaries con last weekend. I went to Rogue Events' con in Bad Wildungen, so the one without Ian and Paul, hence the smaller one with less crazy fans than last year. Nevertheless there was still a significant difference to the Supernatural fans I am used to.

Your average SPN fangirl vs. your average TVD fangirl.

It starts with Age. While there has been an increasing number of young newbies at the Supernatural cons this year as well, the majority is still older. I don't know if it's that the show is on for a longer time or if it's the darker nature of the show - and its stars, but well, I felt really old at this con. Poor Sebastian Roché kept running into girls who claimed "I'm only 17!" when he got physical with them. (You know how he sometimes likes to go into the audience and sit down on girls' laps? That.) He also toned it down a tiny bit. He still talked about the importance of foreplay and kept mentioning how he was killed by that huge dildo thrust in his chest, but he only briefly mentioned Lord of the Cockrings, but didn't run his whole 'Oooh, Mr. Frodo' show.

I love him for starting his first panel by saying that TVD is short for an STD. I think people have forgotten about this by now. Google certainly has, because I just wanted to look up whet exactely it was again.

So, younger fangirls. Also, way more dolled up fangirls. Long, flowy hair, messy locks, vintage pins in it. Babydolls or other flowery short, shooort dresses. Highheels. Carrying around those ridiculously unpractical handbags. (They're huge so it's one big mess inside, you have to hang it from your underarm, it keeps poking people next to you. What male asshat invited those anyways?) Skinny. Like, everybody was ridiculously skinny and ridiculously pretty, doll-face make-up well-done, and just... argh! I felt so old and fat and out of place. Usually SPN cons make me feel normal and admittedly a lot of the times 'hey, at least I am not as fat as that girl in the super tight shirt with Jensen's face on it'. Because let's face it, while it's mean and all, we're all judgy bitches sometimes. - But hey, at this con at least I got to LOL about some girls who really could not walk in their pretty heels. While simultaneously feeling bad for them, because their legs must have been killing them by the end of the day. - And they got to look at me and think 'hah, at least I'm not old and fat and pathetic enough to still watch teenie shows.'

However a lot of the new people I met at this con have been super nice. In fact, I haven't met a single person I didn't like at all. Nobody was wanking or mean-spirited or telling me what a bitch Gen is (or respectively one of the other girls). So kudos TVD fandom for being pretty awesome about liking all of the stars and their respective others. It just felt so shiny happy.

The panel questions. Asking about the show was a rarity. Almost nobody ever talked about a specific scene and what did that mean / how did your character feel / why did they do that? Instead they asked the girls whose wardrobe they preferred, what perfume they liked best, what was their favorite color, and so on. I missed just about all of Michael's and Matt's panel, so no idea what the boys were asked. Nate was mostly just asked for hugs. Like, blatently so until he told them they had to actually ask a question first. Which then usually was along the lines of 'what's your favorite color' or 'would you like to appear in The Originals'? Seb wasn't really asked much either, but that's because he's an entertainer and he doesn't need questions. The first question he got was 'will you be my sugar daddy?' *ahem* Supernatural fans have too much self-respect to ask a question like that. We're questioning feminism on the show and shouldn't the female characters be stronger / survive longer? The TVD fans ask about pretty dresses and perfume. I find that kinda funny. And sad at the same time.

Nobody asked a single slash questions. They asked a lot of Caroline/Klaus shipper questions and Bonnie/Damon. Or Bonnie/Kol. What about Damon/Stefan, you guys? Alaric/Damon? That's so much more fun! The only slightly tabu ship was brought up by Nate himself, who answered every 'favorite' question with "Daniel Gillies" or "why does Rebecca have to be my sister? We have so much chemistry!" Again followed by "Daniel Gillies. Daniel Gillies. Daniel Gillies." You've gotta love a guy who ships the gay and incest for you, while the majority of fans seem to be focused on Kol/Bonnie.

Similarities. There also seem to be a lot of funny bloopers and shenanigans going on at the set. And the actors all hang out together when shooting is done. Nate was sitting in the back, watching Seb's panel. When Seb spotted him, he got up to the microphone, pretended to be a fan, and asked a question in a mock-Russian accent. It was so very Misha, it's uncanny. He either saw that happening at Dragon con or he watched panel videos, or they are just that alike. Which might just be it. I've been discussing it with gwaevalarin the whole weekend. Nate and Misha have so much in common! Give Nate two years and he has the appropriate level of snark to be Misha.

Speaking of Dragon Con. I think that was the con the SPN stars often speak of, when they saw the TVD photo ops and started mocking their poses. At the same time, the TVD stars made up a drinking game for Seb's panel. One shot whenever he makes a sexual reference. Hah! So while the SPN stars mocked them, they were mocking right back. (Of course this was a blank, seeing how Seb is part of their fandom just the same.)

Oh, another big difference. Photo ops. The SPN stars are all happy to hug and squeeze and pose with you. (Mark Sheppard aside, but even he hugs.) The TVD stars are mostly too cool for that. That's a little sad. I already got a super bad impression with Zach Roerig last year, who had both hands in his pockets and wouldn't touch you at all, but this time, Michael Trevino looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the room, Candice was nice burt reserved, Matt Davis had his hand firmly in his pocket even when asked for (and agreeing to???) a hug (they cut the lower part out of the pic, so my photo op looks a lot nicer than it actually was). Kat Graham was the only one who readily posed and hugged and tried something new with each picture. Nate was also okay with poses and hugs, although he has the same 'Paul Wesley TM' look in all of his ops. - But it didn't feel awkward and he was really nice and gracious. He even gave us all a hug at the end of his coffee lounge, shocked to hear we paid €25 for it, so he'd give us "something worth the money". (Does he know what the other organizer charged for the m&g with Paul Wesley? I think not. - It was €350, in case you didn't know.)

So Nate = mix between Misha and Matt Cohen. He really was a super awesome guest. I did not care for him at all before, I can't even recall a single Kol scene, to be honest, but he stole my heart. Kat Graham did the same. I don't like Bonnie, but she was awesome. Candice was sweet. I think she's a hidden geek, because she admitted to being a TV junkie and she grew up to Dawson's Creek (lots of happy gasps from the audience, myself included). Otherwise she didn't really open up and stayed in her shell a bit. But it was okay. I think she was just rather shy and not "above us". A feeling I got from Michael and Matt and Zach last year.

I think it's the age difference again. A lot of those actors got casted pretty early in their carrer, so they never really had to struggle. They don't really have anything to be grateful for. I might be really wrong here, but that's what it felt like to me. Exception being Nate Buzolic, who had a really hard 5 years before he got the part, nevermind a poor childhood (=> see also: Misha Collins). So he was grateful and gracious and happy to be there. I'm not saying 'we pay them so they have to be our property for the weekend', but just a few smiles to fans go a long way. Then I don't feel like you're just there because you wanted the paid Euro vacation to get drunk with your buddies.

I never once felt like that with any of the SPN actors. Some I didn't like as much as others, but basically, the only two guests so far who I ended up disliking (Jim Michael, Rick Worthy) are drunk, grabby, sleazy old guys who behaved like we were the property. Nobody ever made me feel like I was a sleazy fangirl who just wants to cop a feel. - None of the Supernatural stars, that is.

Okay, now this all got more negative than I intended it to go. The thing is just, I was really disappointed with the photo ops last year already and now I got to add two more actors to that list. Nate was really great (not like Misha doesn't have his Misha face TM as well. It's just funny that Nate has the 'Paul Wesley' down to a T.) and Ian is always pehomenal. But Ian has been around for a while. I am pretty sure that he is damn grateful for what he's got with the show. And if the other guys don't want to be at the actual convention and can't stand the photo ops and ugh, to write all those many autographs, then they should just stay the hell at home and not go to the cons at all.

Oh, another big difference: no cosplay at the TVD con. Then again, who should they dress-up as? There's no real significant clothing here. The TVD kids have actaul closets and extensive wardrobe. They don't live out of a duffel bag or worse, are stuck in the one trenchcoat. ;) And a lot of them did look like Caroline or Nina Dobrev in her time off. Maybe dolling-up is their cosplay. Also lots of Somerhalder hats around. So yeah, I take it back. Cosplay just looks different here.

To sum it all up: The Vampire Diaries fandom is not my fandom. I don't belong in it and I don't even want to be in it. The shiny happy part is kinda cool, but my hippie phase is over. I want to discuss mythology and why Dean is so broken and can Cas ever find a balance between his human side and heaven? I don't want to say 'OMG, and then Stefan got locked in a coffin and dumped and when Elena force-fed Katherine the cure!!! OMG!!' (= conversation I actually overheard.) I'm too old for this. I just think "dude, we saw that on Angel already. And another doppelganger? Really? LOLZ, this season is shit."

Next year, I'm only going to Insurgence Germany if there a) is one b) gwaevalarin is going c) Nate is coming d) Daniel Gillies is also coming. (He was super nice at Ring Con last year! So it's not the whole cast, it's just the kids who bug me.)

Insurgence Germany Pictures

2013-06-10T21:30:30Z

Pictures from Insurgence Germany. They still had reserved seating on Saturday morning when we went for coffee lounge tickets, so we bought it and on Sunday we queued up early, so, yeah. However the lighting was weird and I missed all of Michael's panel and when I came in for Matt's, some asshole was in my seat, so no pictures there. Just a few ones taken from the group panel later that day.

There are a lot from Nate. I had good seats for both his panels and he was sitting on the steps instead of the chair on stage, so, better pictures. I didn't sort through them again, so lot of the same ones, I guess, but... bear with me.

Disclaimer: If you want to repost or modify and then post any of these pictures, like, say on tumblr where those would be better off, but I don't really have an account yet, go right ahead. A link back would be nice, but it's not mandatory. I didn't take those pictures for myself. I was present. ;) I'm just happy if anyone can do anything with them / will be happy to view them.

Nathaniel Buzolic
Candice Accola
Kat Graham
Matt Davis & Michael Trevino
Sebastian Roché
Mixed & Group

My photo ops (should be friends only)

I'll try and write up a post about the con tomorrow.