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spn_springflingTitle: The squawking birds won't quit (building nothing, laying bricks)
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Any warnings: set vaguely in S5, otherwise nothing.
Written by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brokentoy for geckoholic!
Dean dreams.
He never remembers until much later in the day, but when he does it's an assault of sensations and vivid images he could very well do without when he's trying to decide if they need more salt for their hunts.
He doesn't mind waking up hard and aching without knowing why, really, but remembering in the middle of a shopping run that it was in fact the ghost of Cas' hands on his body giving him an erection? That's just too much of a shock to be pleased about it.
It's easy to dismiss it as a one time thing, until it starts happening twice, then three times in a week.
When Dean wakes up squirming with a hand around his cock and his brain fogged with vivid thoughts of Cas' mouth around himself, he is confused and doesn't know who to blame for it. He lies in bed for half an hour and hates himself a little, but he shoves it down and clears his head before a shower, feelings of Castiel and the sweet, phantom weight of his body upon himself forgotten.
As long as he's the only one to know, he can bury it deep inside himself and play innocent; he can keep getting drunk, pick up random girls in bars and lock Sam out of their room as he fucks them deep and fast enough to keep him getting lost in thoughts of Cas.
Sam looks at him strange, like this newfound need to hook up with anything that moves surprises him, but Dean just grins and tries his best to act nonchalant.
And then he starts avoiding Cas.
He stops calling him for help and he leaves Sam to deal with the news about Castiel's search for God; his brother is not stupid, but he takes Dean's excuses and does as he's told, and Dean is grateful for that.
He keeps thinking that if he sees less of Cas then maybe these feelings will go away; lust and desire will eventually die down if he doesn't act on them, and he'll be able to keep going without his skin feeling like a hot, tight cage around his body any time Cas appears.
He doesn't want this and he sure as hell doesn't need it. Wanting something he can't have is okay, but wanting someone he really, really shouldn't? Dean is not a fan of that.
Cas is not a fool either and Dean is not stupid. He knows the angel thinks something is going on with him, sees it in the frown above his eyes every time he looks at Dean when he shows up unannounced, but he never says anything and Dean's glad for it.
As long as he's concerned, Dean could go on pretending forever, so he sets his mind at peace and he tries just that.
*
The real trouble starts when Cas decides he wants to be more of a constant presence in their life, and avoiding him starts to be a bit too complicated for Dean's liking.
He starts getting a room of his own, pretending it's to let Sam sleep as he has his way with his random girls, but Dean knows Sam is aware he stopped fucking around within the first three weeks of his stupid crisis.
He keeps having dreams, keeps wanting with a force that scares him and he just hasn't got it in him to go out and look for someone when all he can think about is someone he has no right to have. He can't even kiss a girl now without his mind supplying thoughts of Cas. His presence settles heavy all around him and threatens to burn him from the inside, and even Dean is not that much of an asshole to go on and fuck someone when his mind is completely elsewhere.
Cas' unsubstantial presence is heavier every night, engulfing Dean completely in a bubble of warm, liquid want. Dean comes awake and there's a foreign taste on the tip of his tongue, his brain supplying sensory stimulation where no tangible alternative is available. He always sighs, always lets it slip away, willing his morning routine to wash away the memory before breakfast.
But now Cas is there, feeling a bit more human as time goes by and sharing his time on earth with them like the Winchesters are the only people he knows.
Dean cringes as he thinks that's probably the case now and that his stupid dick is in the way of him being the friend Cas needs now that his powers keep him tethered more and more to Earth and all its questions.
He doesn't like himself so much right now, fighting between being the loyal friend to someone who's sacrificed so much for him and being a horny sonofabitch, so he takes a deep breath and locks the door behind him, telling himself isolation is for the better.
He can hear Sam and Cas talking from the other side of the wall in Sam's room and he goes to take a shower hoping all is calm and well when he gets out.
What he doesn't need, what he really, really doesn't want, is for Cas to be there, sitting on his bed and waiting for him when he walks back into the room in just a pair of boxers and toweling his hair dry.
He jumps a little when he sees him, and flushes deep and warm as he feels Cas' eyes rake up and down his body. He moves to take a step back to the bathroom again, but Castiel stands and talks, stopping him in his tracks.
“Dean. Is there something wrong?”
It's so out of the blue — and still no, not really — that Dean doesn't know what to say, so he keeps his eyes trained on the floor and says nothing for a second.
“Don't think I didn't notice you avoiding me,” Cas says, his voice betraying nothing but a little touch of disappointment. “Is there something you'd like to tell me?”
Dean shakes his head, eyes finally meeting Cas', and clears his voice. He feels exposed, semi-naked and still wet from his shower, but he refuses to back down and admit defeat.
“No Cas. I just need some time alone.”
Castiel doesn't reply. It's clear he doesn't believe a word Dean says, but he takes a step back and nods, looking at the door.
“Your brother is worried about you.”
Dean smiles a little, because of course Sam would talk about it with Cas, trying to figure out what's suddenly gotten into Dean.
“There's nothing for him to worry about, man. I just need some space for a while. That's it.” Dean walks to his duffel and picks up some clothes, feeling too much and needing to put something in the way between his skin and Cas' gaze. “Do you mind now?” he says, nodding to the pair of pants in his hand and then the door, “I'm kind of beat.”
“Of course,” Cas says, backing up in small steps but still frowning. He stops and looks at him one last time: “I hope you know you can always talk to me if you need, Dean.”
Dean snorts at that, because it's hilarious and ironic and still so sad, and he takes a step forward to pat Cas on his back as he gently pushes him towards the door, hand lingering for a second on his shoulder. “Yeah, dude, thanks but no thanks.”
Castiel nods again, a sad little smile on his lips as he gets out.
Dean sighs and sits on the bed, lets his head fall between his knees, hands folding on the back of his neck as he wills it all to go away so things can get back to normal.
*
“Dean.”
He wakes bathed in sweat, hot all over and aching; his heart beats fast as he pants, the last vestiges of his dream slipping away as he can still feel the weight of dream-Cas moving languorously in his lap. His hips strain up in the air as he looks for friction, and he relaxes his fists from the tangled sheets as he tries to collect his bearings.
“Dean.” Castiel speaks again, and Dean jumps because it's not the voice of dream-Cas, but Cas himself standing by the side of his bed and looking down at him in concern.
“C-Cas.” Dean stammers. He feels his heart rate pick up again, his cock hard and full pressing to the fabric of his shorts, and suddenly he can't do this. Not at night when he's supposed to be alone and reach for what he wants when he's not causing any trouble, when he can take it without tainting something pure and beautiful with his touch.
“Dean, are you okay?”
Cas' voice is deep and close, and as sleep bleeds away, Dean realizes that the angel is leaning into his space, one of his hands dangerously close to Dean's face.
“Wha—yes. Yes, Cas, I'm okay,” Dean pants, and as he tries to keep his body under control anger seeps in and he needs to let it out. ”What the fuck are you doing here anyway?” he says, and it hurts to see Cas reel back, take his hand aways as if being burned without even the satisfaction of a touch. But Dean can't, not like this.
“I was worried about you. I thought you might be having dreams of Hell, wanting to deal with them on your own. I kept vigil while you slept, but then you started thrashing and calling my name and—“
“Cas.” Dean stops him because he really can't let this go on any longer. He needs Cas to go and he has to go now. “You should just go.”
“Dean—”
“Cas, just go. Please.” He doesn't want to sound pathetic but Dean doesn't feel strong enough, exposed and so ready to break he just wants to crawl under the covers and forget everything.
He closes his eyes shut, waiting for the telltale sound of flapping wings to tell him Cas left him alone, but the bed dips by his side and he takes a shuddering breath as he feels him getting closer.
“Dean.” Cas repeats in a gentle tone, soothing and warm and everything Dean wants.
He feels Cas' hands on him, threading in his hair — damp with sweat just as the rest of him — and Dean feels a rush of warmth as Castiel's fingers scrape the nape of his neck. He wants to reach out, feels his body trembling with the need to grab Cas' body and bring him near, but he can't will his muscles to move and stain something so perfect beyond the damage he's already done. Cas is so much more human than he should be, and Dean hates that it's his fault.
He feels raw and on edge, his breathing picking up again as Cas' hands travel on his skin and he frames Dean's head with his palms. Dean feels him getting closer, and he thinks hard, wills Cas to read his mind just for once, and asks him to back off. But Cas doesn't do telepathy anymore or just ignores him, because what Dean feels next is Cas' breath skittering along his ear as he starts talking again.
“Dean, stop it,” Cas says, and his lips are barely there upon Dean's skin but still more real than whatever dream he might have had. “I might be inexperienced, but I'm not stupid. I know what this is about.”
Dean's eyes shoot open at that and he tenses. He suddenly wants out of here like he never wanted before, but Cas still holds his head and Dean has no choice but stay. He can't talk, doesn't want to admit to anything and be judged by it, so he keeps his silence and hopes for the best.
“I know what you think about it, and I wish so much you'd stop.” Cas kisses him sweetly on the spot under his earlobe and suddenly all Dean wants to do is cry. He doesn't deserve this tenderness and still his heart swells with the need for more. Cas' breath falls upon his skin as he faces him, looks into his eyes and says: “I'm not as far above you as you think I am, neither have I sank so low as you seem to fear. I am here, just as you are.”
Dean closes his eyes again as Cas gets closer still, his lips brushing the tip of Dean's nose.
“You are loved,” Cas kisses him softly on his cheek, “and cherished,” and then on the side of his lips. “And you are deserving of everything you want.” Castiel's lips brush over Dean's, and it's delicate and sweet.
“Look at me, Dean.”
Dean has no choice but to comply, and Cas' gaze is serene and calm as he holds Dean's locked.
“If what you want is something I can give you, go on and take it. I'm nothing you can't have.”
Cas smiles, sweet and perfect and surreal in the dark room, and the light of it takes a weight off Dean's soul that makes him feel a little bit more relaxed, a little bit more human.
“Yeah?” Dean asks, and his voice is hushed and low, almost scared.
“Yes.” Castiel nods.
“But I don't—”
“Yes, Dean, you do.” Castiel kisses him again, firm and almost insistent now, and Dean has no choice but sigh contentedly and go with it.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Any warnings: set vaguely in S5, otherwise nothing.
Written by
brokentoy for geckoholic!Dean dreams.
He never remembers until much later in the day, but when he does it's an assault of sensations and vivid images he could very well do without when he's trying to decide if they need more salt for their hunts.
He doesn't mind waking up hard and aching without knowing why, really, but remembering in the middle of a shopping run that it was in fact the ghost of Cas' hands on his body giving him an erection? That's just too much of a shock to be pleased about it.
It's easy to dismiss it as a one time thing, until it starts happening twice, then three times in a week.
When Dean wakes up squirming with a hand around his cock and his brain fogged with vivid thoughts of Cas' mouth around himself, he is confused and doesn't know who to blame for it. He lies in bed for half an hour and hates himself a little, but he shoves it down and clears his head before a shower, feelings of Castiel and the sweet, phantom weight of his body upon himself forgotten.
As long as he's the only one to know, he can bury it deep inside himself and play innocent; he can keep getting drunk, pick up random girls in bars and lock Sam out of their room as he fucks them deep and fast enough to keep him getting lost in thoughts of Cas.
Sam looks at him strange, like this newfound need to hook up with anything that moves surprises him, but Dean just grins and tries his best to act nonchalant.
And then he starts avoiding Cas.
He stops calling him for help and he leaves Sam to deal with the news about Castiel's search for God; his brother is not stupid, but he takes Dean's excuses and does as he's told, and Dean is grateful for that.
He keeps thinking that if he sees less of Cas then maybe these feelings will go away; lust and desire will eventually die down if he doesn't act on them, and he'll be able to keep going without his skin feeling like a hot, tight cage around his body any time Cas appears.
He doesn't want this and he sure as hell doesn't need it. Wanting something he can't have is okay, but wanting someone he really, really shouldn't? Dean is not a fan of that.
Cas is not a fool either and Dean is not stupid. He knows the angel thinks something is going on with him, sees it in the frown above his eyes every time he looks at Dean when he shows up unannounced, but he never says anything and Dean's glad for it.
As long as he's concerned, Dean could go on pretending forever, so he sets his mind at peace and he tries just that.
*
The real trouble starts when Cas decides he wants to be more of a constant presence in their life, and avoiding him starts to be a bit too complicated for Dean's liking.
He starts getting a room of his own, pretending it's to let Sam sleep as he has his way with his random girls, but Dean knows Sam is aware he stopped fucking around within the first three weeks of his stupid crisis.
He keeps having dreams, keeps wanting with a force that scares him and he just hasn't got it in him to go out and look for someone when all he can think about is someone he has no right to have. He can't even kiss a girl now without his mind supplying thoughts of Cas. His presence settles heavy all around him and threatens to burn him from the inside, and even Dean is not that much of an asshole to go on and fuck someone when his mind is completely elsewhere.
Cas' unsubstantial presence is heavier every night, engulfing Dean completely in a bubble of warm, liquid want. Dean comes awake and there's a foreign taste on the tip of his tongue, his brain supplying sensory stimulation where no tangible alternative is available. He always sighs, always lets it slip away, willing his morning routine to wash away the memory before breakfast.
But now Cas is there, feeling a bit more human as time goes by and sharing his time on earth with them like the Winchesters are the only people he knows.
Dean cringes as he thinks that's probably the case now and that his stupid dick is in the way of him being the friend Cas needs now that his powers keep him tethered more and more to Earth and all its questions.
He doesn't like himself so much right now, fighting between being the loyal friend to someone who's sacrificed so much for him and being a horny sonofabitch, so he takes a deep breath and locks the door behind him, telling himself isolation is for the better.
He can hear Sam and Cas talking from the other side of the wall in Sam's room and he goes to take a shower hoping all is calm and well when he gets out.
What he doesn't need, what he really, really doesn't want, is for Cas to be there, sitting on his bed and waiting for him when he walks back into the room in just a pair of boxers and toweling his hair dry.
He jumps a little when he sees him, and flushes deep and warm as he feels Cas' eyes rake up and down his body. He moves to take a step back to the bathroom again, but Castiel stands and talks, stopping him in his tracks.
“Dean. Is there something wrong?”
It's so out of the blue — and still no, not really — that Dean doesn't know what to say, so he keeps his eyes trained on the floor and says nothing for a second.
“Don't think I didn't notice you avoiding me,” Cas says, his voice betraying nothing but a little touch of disappointment. “Is there something you'd like to tell me?”
Dean shakes his head, eyes finally meeting Cas', and clears his voice. He feels exposed, semi-naked and still wet from his shower, but he refuses to back down and admit defeat.
“No Cas. I just need some time alone.”
Castiel doesn't reply. It's clear he doesn't believe a word Dean says, but he takes a step back and nods, looking at the door.
“Your brother is worried about you.”
Dean smiles a little, because of course Sam would talk about it with Cas, trying to figure out what's suddenly gotten into Dean.
“There's nothing for him to worry about, man. I just need some space for a while. That's it.” Dean walks to his duffel and picks up some clothes, feeling too much and needing to put something in the way between his skin and Cas' gaze. “Do you mind now?” he says, nodding to the pair of pants in his hand and then the door, “I'm kind of beat.”
“Of course,” Cas says, backing up in small steps but still frowning. He stops and looks at him one last time: “I hope you know you can always talk to me if you need, Dean.”
Dean snorts at that, because it's hilarious and ironic and still so sad, and he takes a step forward to pat Cas on his back as he gently pushes him towards the door, hand lingering for a second on his shoulder. “Yeah, dude, thanks but no thanks.”
Castiel nods again, a sad little smile on his lips as he gets out.
Dean sighs and sits on the bed, lets his head fall between his knees, hands folding on the back of his neck as he wills it all to go away so things can get back to normal.
*
“Dean.”
He wakes bathed in sweat, hot all over and aching; his heart beats fast as he pants, the last vestiges of his dream slipping away as he can still feel the weight of dream-Cas moving languorously in his lap. His hips strain up in the air as he looks for friction, and he relaxes his fists from the tangled sheets as he tries to collect his bearings.
“Dean.” Castiel speaks again, and Dean jumps because it's not the voice of dream-Cas, but Cas himself standing by the side of his bed and looking down at him in concern.
“C-Cas.” Dean stammers. He feels his heart rate pick up again, his cock hard and full pressing to the fabric of his shorts, and suddenly he can't do this. Not at night when he's supposed to be alone and reach for what he wants when he's not causing any trouble, when he can take it without tainting something pure and beautiful with his touch.
“Dean, are you okay?”
Cas' voice is deep and close, and as sleep bleeds away, Dean realizes that the angel is leaning into his space, one of his hands dangerously close to Dean's face.
“Wha—yes. Yes, Cas, I'm okay,” Dean pants, and as he tries to keep his body under control anger seeps in and he needs to let it out. ”What the fuck are you doing here anyway?” he says, and it hurts to see Cas reel back, take his hand aways as if being burned without even the satisfaction of a touch. But Dean can't, not like this.
“I was worried about you. I thought you might be having dreams of Hell, wanting to deal with them on your own. I kept vigil while you slept, but then you started thrashing and calling my name and—“
“Cas.” Dean stops him because he really can't let this go on any longer. He needs Cas to go and he has to go now. “You should just go.”
“Dean—”
“Cas, just go. Please.” He doesn't want to sound pathetic but Dean doesn't feel strong enough, exposed and so ready to break he just wants to crawl under the covers and forget everything.
He closes his eyes shut, waiting for the telltale sound of flapping wings to tell him Cas left him alone, but the bed dips by his side and he takes a shuddering breath as he feels him getting closer.
“Dean.” Cas repeats in a gentle tone, soothing and warm and everything Dean wants.
He feels Cas' hands on him, threading in his hair — damp with sweat just as the rest of him — and Dean feels a rush of warmth as Castiel's fingers scrape the nape of his neck. He wants to reach out, feels his body trembling with the need to grab Cas' body and bring him near, but he can't will his muscles to move and stain something so perfect beyond the damage he's already done. Cas is so much more human than he should be, and Dean hates that it's his fault.
He feels raw and on edge, his breathing picking up again as Cas' hands travel on his skin and he frames Dean's head with his palms. Dean feels him getting closer, and he thinks hard, wills Cas to read his mind just for once, and asks him to back off. But Cas doesn't do telepathy anymore or just ignores him, because what Dean feels next is Cas' breath skittering along his ear as he starts talking again.
“Dean, stop it,” Cas says, and his lips are barely there upon Dean's skin but still more real than whatever dream he might have had. “I might be inexperienced, but I'm not stupid. I know what this is about.”
Dean's eyes shoot open at that and he tenses. He suddenly wants out of here like he never wanted before, but Cas still holds his head and Dean has no choice but stay. He can't talk, doesn't want to admit to anything and be judged by it, so he keeps his silence and hopes for the best.
“I know what you think about it, and I wish so much you'd stop.” Cas kisses him sweetly on the spot under his earlobe and suddenly all Dean wants to do is cry. He doesn't deserve this tenderness and still his heart swells with the need for more. Cas' breath falls upon his skin as he faces him, looks into his eyes and says: “I'm not as far above you as you think I am, neither have I sank so low as you seem to fear. I am here, just as you are.”
Dean closes his eyes again as Cas gets closer still, his lips brushing the tip of Dean's nose.
“You are loved,” Cas kisses him softly on his cheek, “and cherished,” and then on the side of his lips. “And you are deserving of everything you want.” Castiel's lips brush over Dean's, and it's delicate and sweet.
“Look at me, Dean.”
Dean has no choice but to comply, and Cas' gaze is serene and calm as he holds Dean's locked.
“If what you want is something I can give you, go on and take it. I'm nothing you can't have.”
Cas smiles, sweet and perfect and surreal in the dark room, and the light of it takes a weight off Dean's soul that makes him feel a little bit more relaxed, a little bit more human.
“Yeah?” Dean asks, and his voice is hushed and low, almost scared.
“Yes.” Castiel nods.
“But I don't—”
“Yes, Dean, you do.” Castiel kisses him again, firm and almost insistent now, and Dean has no choice but sigh contentedly and go with it.
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Date: 2012-06-11 12:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-24 10:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-11 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-24 10:47 am (UTC)the problem with Dean is that even if he's no good at hiding he still keeps trying. He must be frustrating to live with!
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Date: 2012-06-11 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-24 10:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-12 05:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-24 10:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-23 07:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-24 10:50 am (UTC)thank you for reading bb <3