(FIC) Four Time Dean and Castiel Loved Each Other, And One Time They Didn't
Four Times Dean And Castiel Loved Each Other and One Time They Didn’t.
Rating: Hard R
Genre: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 1111
When Castiel found Dean in Hell, he was horrified by the tarnish glistening on his soul. Dean didn’t even look at him at first, lost in filleting a woman’s thigh. It was only when Castiel seized Dean by the arm that Dean noticed him, and Castiel, with something that he would one day know as relief, looked into tortured, dangerous, and absolutely beautiful green eyes. Castiel pulled Dean up, and turned to fly away; Dean whimpered desperately as they broke from his rack, and Castiel cradled Dean’s tortured, dangerous, wounded, twisted, and still beautiful soul up out of Hell. Dean began to lose his grip on his physical shape, warping into a form of a glowing wispy sphere. Who? Dean whispered, curled into Castiel’s hand. I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord.
Thank you, said Dean, wrapping himself around Castiel’s wrist. Where?
I’m bringing you back to the world. Dean pulsed with gratitude, and Castiel could also feel his joy, his sadness, his regret, his fear, his guilt; a beautiful work of art that his Father had made. He held Dean close to him, and they reached up to the zenith of Hell; breaking back into the world together. Castiel held Dean’s damaged soul with his grace protectively as long as he could, until he sealed Dean back into his body.
Dean realized, as they bolted down the fire escape, that he was glad Castiel hadn’t lost his virginity to Chastity and her absent father. When Dean saw Castiel smile at him as they headed down the street, it helped him come to a decision. “Hey Cas?”
As they entered the car, he smile was still lingering on the angel’s face as he turned to look at Dean.
“Yes?” Dean leaned over to kiss Castiel, soft and easy enough to take back. He didn’t taste like hooker, he tasted clean, and almost sweet. “Did you kiss her?”
“No,” Castiel said softly. “…that makes you happy.”
“Yeah.” Dean kissed him again, one hand resting on Castiel’s thigh.
“Why?”
“I don’t want you kissing anyone who isn’t me.” And they kissed more, Dean’s hands running over Castiel’s body, cupping Castiel’s erection in his hand, kissing Castiel as he stroked him. Castiel hissed and groaned before burying his face in Dean’s neck. Dean tucked him back into his pants, and started the car. “Why-why are you stopping?”
“You’re not getting your cherry popped in the front seat of a car, Cas.” And as Castiel rested a hand on Dean’s thigh, they drove off.
Castiel, just as Raphael raised a hand to blast him into whatever end awaited him, thought of Dean. Every moment they spent together, from Hell to a few moments ago. He had cast himself from Heaven, to his death, for Dean’s sake. And the world’s, but this was for Dean. Only for Dean, and if he had to die to give Dean the world he wanted to live in, then he would.
Dean looked behind him as he ran down the hall. Just for a second, he would have sworn that Castiel was standing behind him. He wished that the angel could have come with him; there was no time for regrets, but later, he would ache at the loss of his only friend.
“Class, we have a new student,” the teacher droned. “This is Dean Winchester. Dean, please take a seat.” Most of the guys shot Dean death glares; every girl in the room leered at him in their own way. But there was one guy, by the windows, who smiled at him, and between the other guys and the girls, he was the friendliest face in the room. Dean sat behind him, and the guy just smiled again. “I’m Castiel,” he said. And damn, he was cute.
“Dean,” said Dean.
“Nice to meet you.”
There had to be something wrong with Castiel, because Dean liked him immensely, and he liked Dean right back. Soon they were happily outcasts together, until they were kissing in corners, holding hands (at Castiel’s quiet insistence) during assembly, and, on nights when their parents were out, having sex.
But then Dean had to move, and he told Castiel the night before he had to leave. Castiel had gotten extraordinarily angry and left, slamming Dean’s front door on the way out. But the next morning, as he slumped in the backseat of the Impala next to Sam, he saw Castiel by the side of the road, racing to catch up with the car.
“Good-bye,” Castiel called, and waved desperately as they drove out of town. Dean held that image in his heart until his junior year of college, when he transferred to a four-year school, and found Castiel sitting in his engineering class, and embraced him so tightly he heard Castiel gasp. “If you have a boyfriend, I’m killing him,” said Dean. When Castiel shook his head, Dean kissed him, to gasps, groans, and a few approving whoops.
“Hey, fearless leader,” Castiel drawled from his position on the floor. “What’re you doing in my humble abode?”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Dean snapped.
“I thought you liked it when I showed a little spark. Oh, no, I forgot, you just like my mouth open, right?”
Usually Dean would have hit him or said something sarcastic, but he just knelt and grabbed Castiel by the jaw. “That’s right.” Dean kissed him, biting his lips as he pushed him down to the floor, opening Castiel’s pants and starting to jerk him off.
“What, have you gone through all the girls here? Aren’t there any who still think they can fix you?” The bite in Castiel’s voice was swallowed by Dean’s hand on his cock; Dean still knew all his buttons. “None of them fuck like you,” Dean said, and it was almost sweet, until Dean turned him over and shoved him. It burned like Hell, and Castiel ached for the time when Dean dreamt of Hell and turned to him for comfort, when they curled together and stroke each other to completion, and Dean kissed him through his orgasm, and looked at him as if he couldn’t quite believe Castiel was real.
But Dean’s rough fucking shook him out of his yearnings, and he could feel his heart break a little more. There was half a bottle of whiskey and a full bottle of little blue pills waiting, and he hoped Dean would finish soon so that he could get to them. Because he wanted to cry.
Rating: Hard R
Genre: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 1111
When Castiel found Dean in Hell, he was horrified by the tarnish glistening on his soul. Dean didn’t even look at him at first, lost in filleting a woman’s thigh. It was only when Castiel seized Dean by the arm that Dean noticed him, and Castiel, with something that he would one day know as relief, looked into tortured, dangerous, and absolutely beautiful green eyes. Castiel pulled Dean up, and turned to fly away; Dean whimpered desperately as they broke from his rack, and Castiel cradled Dean’s tortured, dangerous, wounded, twisted, and still beautiful soul up out of Hell. Dean began to lose his grip on his physical shape, warping into a form of a glowing wispy sphere. Who? Dean whispered, curled into Castiel’s hand. I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord.
Thank you, said Dean, wrapping himself around Castiel’s wrist. Where?
I’m bringing you back to the world. Dean pulsed with gratitude, and Castiel could also feel his joy, his sadness, his regret, his fear, his guilt; a beautiful work of art that his Father had made. He held Dean close to him, and they reached up to the zenith of Hell; breaking back into the world together. Castiel held Dean’s damaged soul with his grace protectively as long as he could, until he sealed Dean back into his body.
Dean realized, as they bolted down the fire escape, that he was glad Castiel hadn’t lost his virginity to Chastity and her absent father. When Dean saw Castiel smile at him as they headed down the street, it helped him come to a decision. “Hey Cas?”
As they entered the car, he smile was still lingering on the angel’s face as he turned to look at Dean.
“Yes?” Dean leaned over to kiss Castiel, soft and easy enough to take back. He didn’t taste like hooker, he tasted clean, and almost sweet. “Did you kiss her?”
“No,” Castiel said softly. “…that makes you happy.”
“Yeah.” Dean kissed him again, one hand resting on Castiel’s thigh.
“Why?”
“I don’t want you kissing anyone who isn’t me.” And they kissed more, Dean’s hands running over Castiel’s body, cupping Castiel’s erection in his hand, kissing Castiel as he stroked him. Castiel hissed and groaned before burying his face in Dean’s neck. Dean tucked him back into his pants, and started the car. “Why-why are you stopping?”
“You’re not getting your cherry popped in the front seat of a car, Cas.” And as Castiel rested a hand on Dean’s thigh, they drove off.
Castiel, just as Raphael raised a hand to blast him into whatever end awaited him, thought of Dean. Every moment they spent together, from Hell to a few moments ago. He had cast himself from Heaven, to his death, for Dean’s sake. And the world’s, but this was for Dean. Only for Dean, and if he had to die to give Dean the world he wanted to live in, then he would.
Dean looked behind him as he ran down the hall. Just for a second, he would have sworn that Castiel was standing behind him. He wished that the angel could have come with him; there was no time for regrets, but later, he would ache at the loss of his only friend.
“Class, we have a new student,” the teacher droned. “This is Dean Winchester. Dean, please take a seat.” Most of the guys shot Dean death glares; every girl in the room leered at him in their own way. But there was one guy, by the windows, who smiled at him, and between the other guys and the girls, he was the friendliest face in the room. Dean sat behind him, and the guy just smiled again. “I’m Castiel,” he said. And damn, he was cute.
“Dean,” said Dean.
“Nice to meet you.”
There had to be something wrong with Castiel, because Dean liked him immensely, and he liked Dean right back. Soon they were happily outcasts together, until they were kissing in corners, holding hands (at Castiel’s quiet insistence) during assembly, and, on nights when their parents were out, having sex.
But then Dean had to move, and he told Castiel the night before he had to leave. Castiel had gotten extraordinarily angry and left, slamming Dean’s front door on the way out. But the next morning, as he slumped in the backseat of the Impala next to Sam, he saw Castiel by the side of the road, racing to catch up with the car.
“Good-bye,” Castiel called, and waved desperately as they drove out of town. Dean held that image in his heart until his junior year of college, when he transferred to a four-year school, and found Castiel sitting in his engineering class, and embraced him so tightly he heard Castiel gasp. “If you have a boyfriend, I’m killing him,” said Dean. When Castiel shook his head, Dean kissed him, to gasps, groans, and a few approving whoops.
“Hey, fearless leader,” Castiel drawled from his position on the floor. “What’re you doing in my humble abode?”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Dean snapped.
“I thought you liked it when I showed a little spark. Oh, no, I forgot, you just like my mouth open, right?”
Usually Dean would have hit him or said something sarcastic, but he just knelt and grabbed Castiel by the jaw. “That’s right.” Dean kissed him, biting his lips as he pushed him down to the floor, opening Castiel’s pants and starting to jerk him off.
“What, have you gone through all the girls here? Aren’t there any who still think they can fix you?” The bite in Castiel’s voice was swallowed by Dean’s hand on his cock; Dean still knew all his buttons. “None of them fuck like you,” Dean said, and it was almost sweet, until Dean turned him over and shoved him. It burned like Hell, and Castiel ached for the time when Dean dreamt of Hell and turned to him for comfort, when they curled together and stroke each other to completion, and Dean kissed him through his orgasm, and looked at him as if he couldn’t quite believe Castiel was real.
But Dean’s rough fucking shook him out of his yearnings, and he could feel his heart break a little more. There was half a bottle of whiskey and a full bottle of little blue pills waiting, and he hoped Dean would finish soon so that he could get to them. Because he wanted to cry.