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04 September 2010 @ 11:17 am
fic, SPN: stripped of my jacket and my vest (Dean/Castiel), NC17, for the five acts meme  
Or, this is the proof that I am very, very bad at this comment fic thing.

Title: stripped of my jacket and my vest
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3300
Warnings: roleplaying, if it's a warning.
Spoilers: until the S5 finale included.
Summary: “First time in a place like this?” Dean asks, and Castiel can’t help a small chuckle. “Let’s say that tonight I’m doing… a lot of things I never did.” Or, where for one time they're not themselves and Castiel has a lot to figure out.
A/N: written for catyuy at the five acts exchange; the main prompt was role playing. Considering that it ended up being 3300 words even if I had totally NOT planned on it, and that the idea of calculating how many comments I'd have needed to post it as comment fic made my head hurt, I decided I was just going to post the entire thing here. Comment fic, I fail at you. Using for sacred_20 #20, revelation (writer's choice). Title from this song.

Castiel stands outside the bar and takes a look at his watch, even if he wouldn’t need it to know what time is it. But if he is doing this, he figures, he should do it right.

“I do not see the point of it,” he had said, sincerely not getting it. “Why would we need to do such a thing?”

Dean had rolled his eyes, even if he was sparing Castiel a fond look rather than one of contempt.

It’s a quarter past nine; he nods and straightens his suit jacket (not his usual one, this is gray), he makes sure his shirt is tucked (not his usual one, this is red), then buttons up the black coat he’s really not adjusted to.

“Don’t go dressed like that,” Dean had said, “wear these. We’re supposed not to be ourselves, remember?”

Castiel pushes the door of the bar open; there are a few women and a lot of men, and he can see some looking at him in a way that he thinks is definitely appreciative. It doesn’t change much for him, though; this isn’t what he’s here for. He raises a hand to his nose, putting in place a pair of glasses that he doesn’t need. (They’re squared, with thin black edges. They look strange on him, but he can’t say he dislikes them.) He moves until the bar’s counter and then scans the crowd.

Dean is sitting not far, nursing an empty glass, not even glancing at a man obviously trying to get his attention. Castiel spends a handful of seconds looking at Dean; he’s wearing jeans that are new and clean and not ripped, and a dark green sweater with a turtleneck instead of his usual flannel. The leather jacket is nowhere to be seen.

Castiel eyes the empty place on Dean’s left and sits next to him, looks down at his hands, then at the rest of the crowd at the counter, then to Dean.

“I suppose you wouldn’t let me buy you a drink, would you?” he asks, trying to match his voice to the requirements.

“Why should we do it? To spice it up. It prevents boredom,” Dean said, and Castiel had known instantly that it wasn’t all the truth.

“Dean, why don’t you just tell me instead of avoiding it?”

Dean turns in his direction, a small smile on his lips, his elbow leaning against the counter. He looks comfortable and at ease, and Castiel has rarely ever seen him like this.

“And what makes you think that I’d accept when I just refused someone else?” Dean answers, smooth and warm and self-assured, and Castiel thinks that he’s starting to get what Dean had told him last night when he agreed to do this.

“Nothing,” Castiel replies sincerely, “but I figured I could… try my luck, if we want to say so.”

Dean nods and seems to ponder it for a second; then he gives Castiel a short, decisive nod. “Why not? At least you haven’t groped me first. I’ll have a Jack.”

Castiel orders two and then puts his left elbow on the counter, aware that he looks a lot less practiced than Dean.

“First time in a place like this?” Dean asks, and Castiel can’t help a small chuckle.

“Let’s say that tonight I’m doing… a lot of things I never did.”

“Fair’s fair,” Dean agrees as his glass of alcohol arrives. Castiel takes his own and sips from it; Dean drinks half of it in one go before placing it on the counter.

“So,” he says again, looking straight into Castiel’s eyes, “if we’re apparently sharing drinks, tell me something. Like your name. Or what you do,” he adds, and then gives Castiel a small wink.

“But, who should I be?” Castiel asked, still not convinced.

“Oh, whoever you want. Just, don’t tell me. Where’s the surprise if you do?”

“I am… a librarian. At the local community college. And my name is Castiel. What about yours?”

“Weird-ass name you got, uh? But hey, to each their own. I’m Dean. And, I’m a fireman and tomorrow is my free day,” he says, his voice getting lower during the last sentence, and Castiel feels a pleasurable shiver run down his back.

“A dangerous profession,” he remarks, taking another small drink from his glass. Dean’s is already over.

“Indeed, but hey, that’s what I wanted and I like it. And I’m not getting in any danger until the day after tomorrow. Good enough, right?”

“I suppose it is, yes,” Castiel says, and finishes his glass because he doesn’t want to stall this, whatever it is, wherever it’s going.

“So,” Dean says, “since you were so nice to pay for my drinks, I guess I could offer you a ride. My car’s a beauty, and I’m not exaggerating here.”

“That is very nice of you, but I am afraid that my sister is currently occupying the couch in my living room. And if you give me a ride home… I would be quite displeased since I couldn’t even offer you another drink upstairs.”

The words tumble easily out of his lips now, and he feels… he almost feels possessed. Right not he almost feels like it isn’t Castiel, angel of the Lord, currently stationed on Earth for the duration of his charge’s life, but Castiel-with-a-surname, librarian, who needs glasses and went out because he hasn’t kissed anyone for a year tops. Or that was what Castiel had come up with in the day he had to think about it.

“Damn,” Dean answers, “my brother’s at my place, too, and after last time I brought someone… geez, he bitched about me for ages.”

“Do you have a brother?”

“Yeah, name’s Sam, he’s about to graduate. Law. Smart as fuck but hey, he’s my little brother, it’s a category bound to be bitchy. And yours?”

“Anna? She’s an actress. In theater. Right now she’s there because she needs concentration to learn her new role and she says it’s the quietest place she knows. But… back to our former problem… maybe you could drive us elsewhere?”

There’s heat in Dean’s eyes, and Castiel can only hold the stare and give Dean a small smile, hoping he makes his point.

“Nice,” Dean says, “and what would this ‘elsewhere’ be?”

“Oh,” Castiel answers, “that should be a surprise.”

“Nice. Let’s go then,” Dean says standing up, and Castiel follows him out.

“See, it’s better when you’re not expecting what’s going to happen. Come on, Cas, I’m sure there’s enough imagination in you to surprise me,” Dean had said just above Castiel’s lips before kissing him, and well, Castiel had tried. He had.

Castiel pretends he never saw a car such as the Impala and he smiles as Dean starts praising it, pardon, her, exactly as he usually does; but he figures that it’s a trait that would never change, if Dean had another life. Any other life.

He climbs in the backseat and calmly gives direction, trying to ignore the way his stomach clenches. What if he chose the wrong place? What if this ends up in a disaster? Even if it has gone pretty smoothly, until now.

“So,” Dean asks, joking, “why were you out tonight? You said it wasn’t your thing.”

“I just… my last serious relationship ended a long while ago and… you might say I felt a bit lonely,” he says, quietly, and after all he’s just channeling what he felt during that year spent fighting to stop the Apocalypse. He felt lonely so often, back then. Except when he was with Dean or Sam. “And what about you? I would believe you wouldn’t need a bar to charm someone,” Castiel adds, trying to sound lighter than he usually would. Dean shakes his head and pushes on the accelerator.

“I’m crap at relationships. I haven’t had one that lasted enough. Or well, one did, and it ended badly. She said my work took too much of my time, but I really… doing what I do always was my dream and she didn’t get me much in the end, so why should I have not chosen it? But… even with one night stands, it gets lonely, too. I just… I guess I’m waiting for the one that in the end becomes something else, you know?”

Dean’s voice is painfully raw as he turns on his left when Castiel tells him to, and it sounds so sincere that Castiel wants to reach out and touch his shoulder, but… but it would ruin this, and they’re being more sincere than they usually are even if in theory they’re pretending, and now he gets it. He gets it fully.

“Dean, tell me the truth.”

Dean snorted and hid his face against the pillow, his back to Castiel, but then he did speak.

“It’s… fuck, once in a while I’d just like to be someone else. Not that I don’t like things now, I do, but… I think it’d be nice. To just do it like normal people. Just, Cas, you want to or not? If you don’t, it’s not a problem, but just fucking decide.”

And Castiel still hadn’t understood the prospect fully, but… since he realized how cruel of him had been leaving Dean in the car without even saying goodbye because he just didn’t know he was supposed to, and since he has been given the option to return, and since they started having this, he finds it difficult to ever say no.

“Alright. We will, tomorrow.”

Castiel motions at Dean to stop outside this hotel he decided on before, while having a small recognition walk around the city they’re in; it’s small and quiet, and from what he had seen, it had clean sheets changed every day, fresh flowers in each room, no insects in the bathroom and soft beds. He hopes it’s enough.

Dean stops in the small parking in front of the hotel, and he looks at Castiel in a way that is almost too intense for a second before getting out of the car. Castiel does, too, and then he gets inside. Dean follows him.

Castiel uses cash to pay for a room for two on the third floor; they get inside and yes, there are fresh flowers on the window, the comforter covering the bed is soft and should keep them warm, and there’s a smell of lavender permeating the air.

“Is this acceptable?” he asks, and Dean nods, looking at his surroundings in appreciation.

“Well,” he says, “considering that you didn’t choose a bad place at all, take this as a thank you.”

And then Dean is kissing him, slowly, carefully; Castiel thinks it’s the way a first kiss is supposed to be, from what he gathered during his time spent down here. (Theirs had been in the middle of an argument, heated and messy and fast and urgent. Not at all like this one.)

His hands reach forward and they cup Dean’s face; he feels Dean’s cheeks smooth under his fingers, he shaved himself and then washed his face with neutral soap, and Castiel wonders if he should have thought about that, too. But it’s too late to think about that, and so he keeps one hand on Dean’s cheek and one in his hair, and he hums in agreement when Dean’s hand starts unbuttoning his coat.

Clothes fall to the floor one item by one, no angel magic making them appear folded on a nearby chair; Castiel reaches out and as Dean slowly pushes him down on the bed, his hands try to touch the bare skin on Dean’s frame like it was the first time. Like he just wants to find out how it feels even if he put that same body back together a life ago. (Or maybe more; he died twice, since then.)

They’re never this slow, usually. Dean never lets Castiel move on top without fighting it, but now he just leans back and closes his eyes and arches his neck up. Castiel bends down to place a kiss on Dean’s pulse point, feeling Dean’s heart beating fast, almost rushing; the sheets inside the bed are soft and clean and Castiel likes how they feel under his legs and brushing his side as he moves and kisses Dean, deep, slow, trying to let it last.

When the kiss is over, Dean is almost out of breath.

“Woah. How did your last relationship exactly end?” he asks as he reaches down for his jeans, fallen on the side of the bed; he retrieves a packet of lube and a condom from his front pocket.

“The other person called it quits,” Castiel answers, a trace of bitterness in his voice. He figures that yes, the second he was forced back in Heaven the first time it was over, but he doesn’t mention that. Not now.

“Then they were some sorry son of bitches,” Dean whispers before bringing Castiel’s head down and kissing him again. Still slow and deep and thorough, but Castiel wants to moan inside Dean’s mouth and he can’t have enough of tasting the traces of Jack Daniels still lingering there.

It’s so much better, like this. He wonders why Dean never told him straight, if this was what he wanted, but he figures he’ll deal with it later.

He grabs the lube and Dean spreads his legs as soon as he realizes what is that Castiel is doing, and Castiel takes his time. He pushes one finger inside first, slow, even if Dean isn’t that tight (not when they’ve been doing this for months) while Dean’s hands clutch at his arms so hard that they’ll leave bruises.

Castiel doesn’t care, he always likes it when Dean leaves marks on him even if they never last, and adds a second finger along with the first. Dean moves his hips forward, almost trying to meet them, and he’s so hard that it looks painful. So Castiel takes pity on him and pushes a third finger in before leaning over Dean so that they could kiss, if needed.

Then he wraps his hand around Dean’s aching hard cock and Dean surges up against him, his entire body shaking in pleasure, his hands reaching up for Castiel’s head and bringing his head down for a kiss. All the while, Castiel keeps his fingers scissoring and bending and sliding from inside Dean (where it’s tight and wet and warm, and he moves his fingers knowingly because he knows what is that works for Dean, oh he does). He doesn’t hit Dean’s prostate all the time he slides his fingers forward, but every time he does Dean deepens the kiss and thrusts forward. Castiel just smiles against Dean’s lips and keeps his other hand’s pace steady. He rubs his thumb behind the head of Dean’s cock once in a while as his hand moves in quick and even strokes, and he’s hard, too. Almost as Dean, and so he moves his hand and searches friction, and Dean moans when Castiel’s erection comes in contact with his.

Dean is beyond coherence now, his cheeks flushed, his pupils blown, his hand tangled in Castiel’s hair pulling so hard that it’d hurt, if Castiel wasn’t still an angel, and it looks like Cas is taking him apart, but everything Castiel did since he raised him from perdition, was trying to put Dean back together. For a second he wonders if he should say it and ruin the whole pretense at the last second and then Dean is coming, over his stomach and Castiel’s stomach and it’s long and hard. Castiel can’t really resist anymore and follows suit, the strength of his orgasm almost surprising him because he wasn’t expecting his nerves to snap in pleasure and his Grace to pulse inside him like it wants to get free. Even if it won’t, Castiel won’t let it go anywhere now that he has it back, and then he’s beyond thinking and falling next to Dean on the bed.

“Oh. Alright. Good. I’m sure you won’t regret it,” Dean said.

And Castiel doesn’t, but as he brings the covers up (he got rid of the mess on the sheets before; right, he was supposed to be human, but by now he figures that they’re done and he likes to be comfortable when he’s in a bed) he really hopes that Dean comes to, soon, because he has to ask something.

He’s getting adjusted to the feeling of the clean, soft cotton sheet on his back when Dean opens his eyes, looking downright smug.

“Was that worth it?” he asks, and Castiel shakes his head in resignation.

“You win this one, it was.”

“Told you,” Dean answers, sounding very pleased with himself.

“Dean. Can I ask you something?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s gonna ruin the moment, but go ahead.”

“You know, if that is what you want, you just have to ask.”

Dean blinks and leans on one elbow. Now he seems confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I… I never said anything because it seemed to me like you were happy this way,” Castiel starts, meaning that now it’s him and Dean hunting things and saving people while Sam is trying to finish a degree in a small university near where Sarah Blake lives, casually, and the both of them visiting once each month. “But if you want us to stop and… be normal, I guess, you can say it.”

He could see it in Dean’s eyes all this evening. How he wants to have a bed with clean sheets instead of exchanging seedy motel with seedy motel, how he wants to still save people but without needing to hide it, how he wants them to last and how he’d like them to just stop somewhere. Castiel just wants to know why he never said it out loud.

Dean doesn’t even try to lie. “I… I think I’m tired of this. But I don’t know anything else and it isn’t like it worked when I spent one year at Lisa’s, right? I don’t know if I’m made for it. I don’t know if you’re, either. And I can’t exactly force you to clip your wings and take a job at a desk. It isn’t you. Or me.” He shrugs, not looking Castiel in the eyes, and Castiel just moves closer, so that there’s almost no space between them.

“That’s not what should concern you. Would you just… let yourself choose what you want and not what you think is best, for once? I will be fine either way. And who said we should take what you call desk jobs?” Castiel keeps his voice down to barely more than a whisper, and then Dean’s arm is around his waist and Dean is crushing him against his chest, and Castiel’s hands reach up to Dean’s shoulder. He remembers what happened the first time Dean did this. He just stood still because he didn’t have an idea of what he should have done.

Things have changed.

“You mean that?”

“I do. Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck, I… yeah. I’m done. Wherever. I don’t care. I just care about it having a bed without Magic Fingers. And I fucking can’t believe that I’m about to ask you to move in with me when I don’t even have a place,” Dean says against Castiel’s neck, and he’s half laughing and half sounding like he can’t believe what he’s saying.

“We can put a remedy to that.”

“You put lavender under the pillows or anywhere near the bed, I’m killing you.”

Castiel hadn’t thought that far, but well, he thinks as they lay back down and it’s warm under the covers, they will probably make it up as they go along.

feeling: rushedrushed
on rotation: random classical
the female ghost of tom joad: supernatural castieljanie_tangerine on September 5th, 2010 07:53 pm (UTC)
Ee, thanks so much! :D I'm so glad that you did. And ee, Dean, you need to learn to say things, y/y? ;) <3