[FIC] An Awful Lot Like Love for made_of_tin
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: An awful lot like love
Author: Anonymous
Recipient: made_of_tin
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Spoilers: 6x03
Wordcount: 2730
Summary: Sam is investigating a haunted amusement park. Dean just wants some alone time with Cas.
Author notes: This story takes place in an AU post-5x22- the apocalypse is over, Heaven is in disarray, but Sam didn’t end up in the cage with Lucifer.
As soon as the door closes behind Sam, Dean fumbles for his cell phone and taps out a message. Alone at last, he thinks triumphantly, tossing the phone onto the nightstand. It’s been too long, way too long, since they’ve had any alone time together, and Dean intends to make the most of the evening.
By the time he finishes pulling his shirt over his head, body already thrumming with arousal, Cas has arrived.
“Hello, Dean,” he says, voice low and gravelly.
“Cas,” Dean acknowledges. In two long strides, he crosses the room. Castiel reaches for him, and Dean’s mouth finds his, hungry, devouring. Dean yanks at Cas’s tie and pushes the trenchcoat off his shoulders, desperate to feel skin on skin.
“Where’s Sam?” Cas mumbles against Dean’s mouth. "When will he return?" He tilts his head to the side, inviting Dean to kiss his neck. Dean nips at the tendons instead, eliciting a gasp.
“Went to interview a witness. At a haunted-oh God,” he moans as Cas squeezes him through his pants-“haunted amusement park. People get on rides and don't get off.” He yanks at Cas’s shirt and a button goes flying.
Dean can feel Cas’s cock pressed up against his hip and he groans, rocking into it. “C’mon, bed,” he grits out, dragging Cas down in a jumble of arms and legs. He settles into the space between Cas's legs, grinding their lower bodies together. Cas arches up into the pressure and runs his hands down Dean's back.
Through the haze of desire, Dean hears a noise. They freeze, but too late as Sam unlocks the door.
“I forgot the map,” Sam is saying. “Were you able to track down the number for-“ He trails off when he sees Dean in the bed. Dean braces himself for the inevitable bitchfit.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Sam says with disgust, voice rising into what Dean privately calls the prissy register. “I leave for twenty minutes-to do work, mind you-and you’re hooking up back in the room?”
Dean sighs. This isn't going to be fun. It’s not that he and Cas wanted to keep this thing between them secret per se, it’s just that it’s new and weird and undefined. But no help for it now. He sits up, revealing Cas beneath him.
“Um, hey Sam,” Dean says with a sheepish smile.
“Cas?” Sam responds, voice cracking in disbelief.
Castiel disentangles himself from Dean and sits up with as much dignity as a half-naked angel of the Lord can muster. “Hello, Sam,” he says, straightening his tie.
Sam gapes at them, mouth open, eyes comically wide. Dean runs a hand through his hair, awaiting the oncoming explosion.
“What the fuck, Dean,” Sam begins, letting loose with a barrage of blah, blah, blah. Dean is half hard in his pants and he’d really like to get through the anger, through the inevitable sharing and caring makeup and back to the sex before Cas has to take off.
“And you said that I was keeping things from you when I didn’t tell you about Ruby and how do you expect me to feel now that…” Dean tries to zone out, but Sam’s voice fades on its own as the motel walls melt away. Suddenly Dean is fully dressed and standing on a dock in some kind of tunnel. Tethered to the dock is an ornate wooden gondola with a faux-Viking dragon head. Cas is standing next to him, his clothing also intact once more.
“Where did you take us?” Dean asks, equal parts grateful and irritated. Sam’s going to be even more righteously annoyed that he ran out on their fight and besides, no matter how much he wants sex, Dean doesn't really want to deal with a week's worth of constipation.
Cas is scrutinizing their surroundings, or what he can see of them in the dim light. “I didn’t do this, Dean.”
“Well, get us out of here, then. Wherever here is.”
Castiel squints up at the ceiling. “I'm unable to teleport.” He examines the dragon’s head.
“Well, that’s just great,” Dean says, disgusted. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”
In answer to Dean’s question, a spotlight flicks on over the dock, illuminating a giant heart-shaped sign. Tunnel of Love! it reads. Step right up for love’s greatest adventure! 1 token apiece.
“You have got to be shitting me,” Dean says. This is so not how he wanted to spend his evening. He glances at the water. It’s brownish and polluted, and as he watches, a used condom floats by. Perfect.
Feeling something hard in his pocket, he fishes around and pulls out a small gold coin. Admit one is engraved on one side, a creepy clown face on the other.
“Cas, check your pockets,” Dean says. Castiel pulls out a matching token and, to Dean’s surprise, a gun. Cas stares at it like he’s never seen it before.
"This isn't mine," he says, passing it to Dean. Sweet, Dean thinks when he confirms that it’s loaded.
Dean doesn't particularly want to get in the haunted boat, but there are no visible exits anywhere, just water and the tunnel. “This isn’t the tunnel of love I wanted to explore tonight, but let’s get this over with,” he mutters, gratified when Cas rolls his eyes and climbs into the boat. It rocks wildly as he sits down and for a second, Dean thinks they’re both gonna end up in the dirty condom water.
As they settle, the rope tethering the boat to the dock dematerializes, and they lurch forward to the dulcet tones of muzak “That’s Amore.”
"In tenth grade I got to second base with Susan Keller on one of these things," Dean offers.
Cas glances over at him. “I don’t understand the appeal of this attraction.”
“It’s mostly for kids who need an excuse to feel each other up in the dark. Can you tell what’s keeping us here?”
Cas is silent for a moment. “It’s too powerful to be a ghost,” he finally responds. “No spirit could prevent me from using my powers.”
They sail through a heart-shaped doorway. “Welcome to the land of love,” a solemn voice intones. “Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride and each other. Please keep your hands and feet inside the boat for the duration of the ride, and remember, flash photography is not permitted.
“Could it be a byproduct of last year?” Dean asks. Monsters have been acting strangely in the aftermath of the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t.
Before Cas can answer, the boat slows and a tableau lights up. A plastic woman stands on a cardboard balcony, dressed in a long pink gown. Beneath her, a male mannequin gazes up at her with vacant adoration. Beside the figures, a spotlight shines on a placard: GREAT LOVERS OF THE WORLD- ROMEO AND JULIET.
“How does this place stay in business?” Dean wonders. “Kids really must be desperate if they’ll come here to get off.”
As they watch, plastic Juliet’s mouth opens and closes, her arms moving in creepy animatronic jerks. “Romeo, O Romeo,” she says in a high-pitched voice.
Meanwhile, plastic Romeo walks towards them in jerky movements. For a second, Dean is a tiny bit impressed-this is a little higher-budget than he’d been expecting-but then he’s fumbling for the gun as Romeo pulls a dagger out of his belt loop and flings it in their direction. Dean flinches but Cas moves in front him, quicksilver fast. The knife hits him square in the chest.
“Fuck,” Dean shouts, shooting until the mannequin falls over, motionless.
Keeping one eye on Juliet, who's still performing her soliloquy, Dean turns back to Cas. He breathes a sigh of relief that Cas is merely looking down at the dagger with an expression of annoyance.
“You okay, Cas?” He sticks his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to run his hands over Cas’s body for reassurance.
Cas pulls the knife out of his chest. “Yes. My ability to heal hasn't been affected.”
Dean allows himself to pat Cas on the arm. “Good,” he says gruffly.
The boat begins to move again and they’re forced to sit. Dean glances back, still on high alert, but Romeo is just lying on the ground. The spotlight goes out over the scene.
They sail through another heart-shaped door and come to a halt before a second tableau, a plump plastic cherub sitting on a wooden platform decorated with dirty cotton balls.
“Fuck me,” Dean mutters, bracing himself for the inevitable attack. Sure enough, the cherub shoots into the air, hissing as it bares terrifyingly sharp little plastic teeth.
With a flick of his wrist, Castiel tosses Romeo’s dagger, hitting the cherub solidly in the neck. It falls to the floor with a thunk.
“That was kinda hot,” Dean says. Cas’s mouth turns up at the corners, and despite the danger, Dean feels a flash of frustrated arousal. All he wanted was for once, just once, to spend a quiet evening in bed with Cas, no Sam, no hauntings, no distractions. Was that really too much to ask for?
The boat starts to move again. “No. Oh no,” Dean grits out. “I am not spending the rest of my night dodging murderous hunks of plastic. This is not a freaking episode of Scooby-Doo.” He stands up in the boat and reaches for the cherub’s platform. “Do you hear me?” he shouts at the ceiling. “I’m done.”
“Dean, stop rocking the boat,” Castiel warns him, but it’s too late. They tilt sharply to the side and Dean hits the water flailing. He finds his feet and stands up sputtering in the waist-deep water. The disgusting brown condom water. “Goddammit,” he shouts, mentally calculating the date of his last tetanus shot.
Castiel, meanwhile, is standing on the platform, completely dry, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I don’t want to hear it,” Dean says. He clambers onto the platform, dripping and angry. “Dry me off-“ he starts to say, but Cas cuts him off with a sharp hand gesture.
“This isn’t right,” Cas says. He stretches out his left arm and begins to chant in Enochian.
The last time Cas performed this ritual in front of Dean, it ended in a stealth hug attack. Bracing himself for contact, Dean fumbles for the knife among the cherub’s plastic remains. “Don’t tell me this ride is being haunted by a fucking rogue Cupid,” he says. “I knew that guy was a dick, but come on!”
“It’s not a Cupid. It’s much stronger. If I didn’t know any better-“ he pauses. “Show yourself,” he commands.
They wait in silence. Dean fidgets in his uncomfortably wet jeans. If they make it out of here alive, he intends to take the longest shower known to man.
Then comes the voice behind them. “Hey little bro!” Dean and Castiel spin around.
“Gabriel?” Cas asks in disbelief.
“In the flesh,” Gabriel responds with a grin.
“We thought you were dead,” Castiel tells him.
“We saw your wings," Dean adds.
“Hey, you don’t think you’re the only one God brought back, do you?” Gabriel snaps his fingers and instantly he’s sitting on a giant golden throne. “Welcome to my secret underground lair.”
Dean is tired and cold and wet and he’s probably covered in botulism. “So you've come back from the dead just to be a douche?" he snaps.
“Nice to see you, too, Dean. I see you haven’t changed a bit. And here I was worried you’d be less of a dick after our little bonding experience.”
“What are you doing?” Castiel asks in a weary voice. “Heaven is in disarray, Raphael is seeking supreme power, and you’re haunting an amusement park?”
Gabriel sighs. “Just because I was part of the war-reluctantly, I remind you-doesn’t mean I want to be part of the cleanup.”
“This is beneath you, brother.”
They stare at each other in silence. Then Gabriel grins. “Well, I’m not the only one shirking his duties, am I, Castiel? What’s this I hear about you shacking up with good old Dean, here? I gotta tell you, I always thought you’d have better taste.”
Castiel tenses. “Where did you hear that?”
Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “A gentleman never reveals his sources.”
“So you’ve brought us here to teach us another of your stupid lessons?" Dean asks, fed up. "Let me guess: love is deadly?”
“Got it in one! And so very true. Or didn’t Castiel tell you that he risks his life every time you get together?”
Dean looks over at Castiel. A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he’s otherwise preternaturally still. “What's he talking about, Cas?"
“Gabriel is mistaken,” Castiel answers. He isn't making eye contact, though.
“Oh, it’s true,” says Gabriel. “Most angels don't approve of fraternizing with humans, you know. He's in danger of falling every time he sees you, not to mention the fact that your little affair is making his heavenly clean-up project that much harder. Especially with Raphael fighting for power.”
Dean starts to back up, almost involuntarily-- he won't be responsible for Cas's fall-- but Cas grabs his wrist, hard. “It’s worth it, Dean,” he says, looking him straight in the eye with an intensity that leaves Dean speechless.
Behind them, Gabriel begins to clap. “Aww, so beautiful. I could cry.”
Dean turns back to him, embarrassed and angry. “So are you gonna let us out of here or what? Not that we don’t enjoy your company, but Cas and me, we got plans for tonight. Plus Sam will be so sorry he missed you.”
Gabriel chuckles. “Oh, he didn’t miss me.” He snaps his fingers and the boat dissolves into a very wet, very angry-looking Sam.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Sam explodes. “First I walk in on my brother banging an angel. And now this?” He clambers out of the water, dripping everywhere. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”
Gabriel grins. “It’d be a crime not to mess with you. You guys are just so easy." He sobers. "And thick-headed. You survived the freaking Apocalypse, and what do you do? Instead of taking time out to enjoy the triumph, you jump right back into the line of fire, and all for the sake of a little inter-species nookie. Take it from me kids: it's not worth it. Savor your victory and be safe." With a snap of his fingers, he’s gone.
“Douchebag,” Dean mutters. Then something occurs to him, and he points at Sam. “You tipped me into the water on purpose!”
Sam doesn’t deny it. “You spent the evening riding on my back. You probably made out with Cas on top of me. And you didn’t tell me about this thing-whatever-between you. Thanks a lot, by the way, my eyes will never be the same.”
"I didn’t know I needed your permission," Dean snaps. At the look on Sam's face, he sighs and relents. "It’s just, it’s new, you know? We were going to tell you eventually.” He wrings water out of his shirt. “If we have to have this fight, can we do it back at the motel, with clean clothes? Cas, can you get us out of here?”
“I think so.” A second later, they’re back in the motel room. Dean lets Sam have the first shower as a peace offering. Meanwhile, Cas cleans Dean up. When he touches Dean's forehead, Dean reaches out and pulls him into a kiss. Castiel’s arms close around him and they lean into each other, foreheads touching, eyes closed.
That night, Dean and Cas don’t say “I love you.” But when they’re pressed together, naked and satisfied in the back of the Impala, Dean has to admit that whatever this thing is, it feels an awful lot like love.
Title: An awful lot like love
Author: Anonymous
Recipient: made_of_tin
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Spoilers: 6x03
Wordcount: 2730
Summary: Sam is investigating a haunted amusement park. Dean just wants some alone time with Cas.
Author notes: This story takes place in an AU post-5x22- the apocalypse is over, Heaven is in disarray, but Sam didn’t end up in the cage with Lucifer.
As soon as the door closes behind Sam, Dean fumbles for his cell phone and taps out a message. Alone at last, he thinks triumphantly, tossing the phone onto the nightstand. It’s been too long, way too long, since they’ve had any alone time together, and Dean intends to make the most of the evening.
By the time he finishes pulling his shirt over his head, body already thrumming with arousal, Cas has arrived.
“Hello, Dean,” he says, voice low and gravelly.
“Cas,” Dean acknowledges. In two long strides, he crosses the room. Castiel reaches for him, and Dean’s mouth finds his, hungry, devouring. Dean yanks at Cas’s tie and pushes the trenchcoat off his shoulders, desperate to feel skin on skin.
“Where’s Sam?” Cas mumbles against Dean’s mouth. "When will he return?" He tilts his head to the side, inviting Dean to kiss his neck. Dean nips at the tendons instead, eliciting a gasp.
“Went to interview a witness. At a haunted-oh God,” he moans as Cas squeezes him through his pants-“haunted amusement park. People get on rides and don't get off.” He yanks at Cas’s shirt and a button goes flying.
Dean can feel Cas’s cock pressed up against his hip and he groans, rocking into it. “C’mon, bed,” he grits out, dragging Cas down in a jumble of arms and legs. He settles into the space between Cas's legs, grinding their lower bodies together. Cas arches up into the pressure and runs his hands down Dean's back.
Through the haze of desire, Dean hears a noise. They freeze, but too late as Sam unlocks the door.
“I forgot the map,” Sam is saying. “Were you able to track down the number for-“ He trails off when he sees Dean in the bed. Dean braces himself for the inevitable bitchfit.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Sam says with disgust, voice rising into what Dean privately calls the prissy register. “I leave for twenty minutes-to do work, mind you-and you’re hooking up back in the room?”
Dean sighs. This isn't going to be fun. It’s not that he and Cas wanted to keep this thing between them secret per se, it’s just that it’s new and weird and undefined. But no help for it now. He sits up, revealing Cas beneath him.
“Um, hey Sam,” Dean says with a sheepish smile.
“Cas?” Sam responds, voice cracking in disbelief.
Castiel disentangles himself from Dean and sits up with as much dignity as a half-naked angel of the Lord can muster. “Hello, Sam,” he says, straightening his tie.
Sam gapes at them, mouth open, eyes comically wide. Dean runs a hand through his hair, awaiting the oncoming explosion.
“What the fuck, Dean,” Sam begins, letting loose with a barrage of blah, blah, blah. Dean is half hard in his pants and he’d really like to get through the anger, through the inevitable sharing and caring makeup and back to the sex before Cas has to take off.
“And you said that I was keeping things from you when I didn’t tell you about Ruby and how do you expect me to feel now that…” Dean tries to zone out, but Sam’s voice fades on its own as the motel walls melt away. Suddenly Dean is fully dressed and standing on a dock in some kind of tunnel. Tethered to the dock is an ornate wooden gondola with a faux-Viking dragon head. Cas is standing next to him, his clothing also intact once more.
“Where did you take us?” Dean asks, equal parts grateful and irritated. Sam’s going to be even more righteously annoyed that he ran out on their fight and besides, no matter how much he wants sex, Dean doesn't really want to deal with a week's worth of constipation.
Cas is scrutinizing their surroundings, or what he can see of them in the dim light. “I didn’t do this, Dean.”
“Well, get us out of here, then. Wherever here is.”
Castiel squints up at the ceiling. “I'm unable to teleport.” He examines the dragon’s head.
“Well, that’s just great,” Dean says, disgusted. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”
In answer to Dean’s question, a spotlight flicks on over the dock, illuminating a giant heart-shaped sign. Tunnel of Love! it reads. Step right up for love’s greatest adventure! 1 token apiece.
“You have got to be shitting me,” Dean says. This is so not how he wanted to spend his evening. He glances at the water. It’s brownish and polluted, and as he watches, a used condom floats by. Perfect.
Feeling something hard in his pocket, he fishes around and pulls out a small gold coin. Admit one is engraved on one side, a creepy clown face on the other.
“Cas, check your pockets,” Dean says. Castiel pulls out a matching token and, to Dean’s surprise, a gun. Cas stares at it like he’s never seen it before.
"This isn't mine," he says, passing it to Dean. Sweet, Dean thinks when he confirms that it’s loaded.
Dean doesn't particularly want to get in the haunted boat, but there are no visible exits anywhere, just water and the tunnel. “This isn’t the tunnel of love I wanted to explore tonight, but let’s get this over with,” he mutters, gratified when Cas rolls his eyes and climbs into the boat. It rocks wildly as he sits down and for a second, Dean thinks they’re both gonna end up in the dirty condom water.
As they settle, the rope tethering the boat to the dock dematerializes, and they lurch forward to the dulcet tones of muzak “That’s Amore.”
"In tenth grade I got to second base with Susan Keller on one of these things," Dean offers.
Cas glances over at him. “I don’t understand the appeal of this attraction.”
“It’s mostly for kids who need an excuse to feel each other up in the dark. Can you tell what’s keeping us here?”
Cas is silent for a moment. “It’s too powerful to be a ghost,” he finally responds. “No spirit could prevent me from using my powers.”
They sail through a heart-shaped doorway. “Welcome to the land of love,” a solemn voice intones. “Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride and each other. Please keep your hands and feet inside the boat for the duration of the ride, and remember, flash photography is not permitted.
“Could it be a byproduct of last year?” Dean asks. Monsters have been acting strangely in the aftermath of the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t.
Before Cas can answer, the boat slows and a tableau lights up. A plastic woman stands on a cardboard balcony, dressed in a long pink gown. Beneath her, a male mannequin gazes up at her with vacant adoration. Beside the figures, a spotlight shines on a placard: GREAT LOVERS OF THE WORLD- ROMEO AND JULIET.
“How does this place stay in business?” Dean wonders. “Kids really must be desperate if they’ll come here to get off.”
As they watch, plastic Juliet’s mouth opens and closes, her arms moving in creepy animatronic jerks. “Romeo, O Romeo,” she says in a high-pitched voice.
Meanwhile, plastic Romeo walks towards them in jerky movements. For a second, Dean is a tiny bit impressed-this is a little higher-budget than he’d been expecting-but then he’s fumbling for the gun as Romeo pulls a dagger out of his belt loop and flings it in their direction. Dean flinches but Cas moves in front him, quicksilver fast. The knife hits him square in the chest.
“Fuck,” Dean shouts, shooting until the mannequin falls over, motionless.
Keeping one eye on Juliet, who's still performing her soliloquy, Dean turns back to Cas. He breathes a sigh of relief that Cas is merely looking down at the dagger with an expression of annoyance.
“You okay, Cas?” He sticks his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to run his hands over Cas’s body for reassurance.
Cas pulls the knife out of his chest. “Yes. My ability to heal hasn't been affected.”
Dean allows himself to pat Cas on the arm. “Good,” he says gruffly.
The boat begins to move again and they’re forced to sit. Dean glances back, still on high alert, but Romeo is just lying on the ground. The spotlight goes out over the scene.
They sail through another heart-shaped door and come to a halt before a second tableau, a plump plastic cherub sitting on a wooden platform decorated with dirty cotton balls.
“Fuck me,” Dean mutters, bracing himself for the inevitable attack. Sure enough, the cherub shoots into the air, hissing as it bares terrifyingly sharp little plastic teeth.
With a flick of his wrist, Castiel tosses Romeo’s dagger, hitting the cherub solidly in the neck. It falls to the floor with a thunk.
“That was kinda hot,” Dean says. Cas’s mouth turns up at the corners, and despite the danger, Dean feels a flash of frustrated arousal. All he wanted was for once, just once, to spend a quiet evening in bed with Cas, no Sam, no hauntings, no distractions. Was that really too much to ask for?
The boat starts to move again. “No. Oh no,” Dean grits out. “I am not spending the rest of my night dodging murderous hunks of plastic. This is not a freaking episode of Scooby-Doo.” He stands up in the boat and reaches for the cherub’s platform. “Do you hear me?” he shouts at the ceiling. “I’m done.”
“Dean, stop rocking the boat,” Castiel warns him, but it’s too late. They tilt sharply to the side and Dean hits the water flailing. He finds his feet and stands up sputtering in the waist-deep water. The disgusting brown condom water. “Goddammit,” he shouts, mentally calculating the date of his last tetanus shot.
Castiel, meanwhile, is standing on the platform, completely dry, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I don’t want to hear it,” Dean says. He clambers onto the platform, dripping and angry. “Dry me off-“ he starts to say, but Cas cuts him off with a sharp hand gesture.
“This isn’t right,” Cas says. He stretches out his left arm and begins to chant in Enochian.
The last time Cas performed this ritual in front of Dean, it ended in a stealth hug attack. Bracing himself for contact, Dean fumbles for the knife among the cherub’s plastic remains. “Don’t tell me this ride is being haunted by a fucking rogue Cupid,” he says. “I knew that guy was a dick, but come on!”
“It’s not a Cupid. It’s much stronger. If I didn’t know any better-“ he pauses. “Show yourself,” he commands.
They wait in silence. Dean fidgets in his uncomfortably wet jeans. If they make it out of here alive, he intends to take the longest shower known to man.
Then comes the voice behind them. “Hey little bro!” Dean and Castiel spin around.
“Gabriel?” Cas asks in disbelief.
“In the flesh,” Gabriel responds with a grin.
“We thought you were dead,” Castiel tells him.
“We saw your wings," Dean adds.
“Hey, you don’t think you’re the only one God brought back, do you?” Gabriel snaps his fingers and instantly he’s sitting on a giant golden throne. “Welcome to my secret underground lair.”
Dean is tired and cold and wet and he’s probably covered in botulism. “So you've come back from the dead just to be a douche?" he snaps.
“Nice to see you, too, Dean. I see you haven’t changed a bit. And here I was worried you’d be less of a dick after our little bonding experience.”
“What are you doing?” Castiel asks in a weary voice. “Heaven is in disarray, Raphael is seeking supreme power, and you’re haunting an amusement park?”
Gabriel sighs. “Just because I was part of the war-reluctantly, I remind you-doesn’t mean I want to be part of the cleanup.”
“This is beneath you, brother.”
They stare at each other in silence. Then Gabriel grins. “Well, I’m not the only one shirking his duties, am I, Castiel? What’s this I hear about you shacking up with good old Dean, here? I gotta tell you, I always thought you’d have better taste.”
Castiel tenses. “Where did you hear that?”
Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “A gentleman never reveals his sources.”
“So you’ve brought us here to teach us another of your stupid lessons?" Dean asks, fed up. "Let me guess: love is deadly?”
“Got it in one! And so very true. Or didn’t Castiel tell you that he risks his life every time you get together?”
Dean looks over at Castiel. A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he’s otherwise preternaturally still. “What's he talking about, Cas?"
“Gabriel is mistaken,” Castiel answers. He isn't making eye contact, though.
“Oh, it’s true,” says Gabriel. “Most angels don't approve of fraternizing with humans, you know. He's in danger of falling every time he sees you, not to mention the fact that your little affair is making his heavenly clean-up project that much harder. Especially with Raphael fighting for power.”
Dean starts to back up, almost involuntarily-- he won't be responsible for Cas's fall-- but Cas grabs his wrist, hard. “It’s worth it, Dean,” he says, looking him straight in the eye with an intensity that leaves Dean speechless.
Behind them, Gabriel begins to clap. “Aww, so beautiful. I could cry.”
Dean turns back to him, embarrassed and angry. “So are you gonna let us out of here or what? Not that we don’t enjoy your company, but Cas and me, we got plans for tonight. Plus Sam will be so sorry he missed you.”
Gabriel chuckles. “Oh, he didn’t miss me.” He snaps his fingers and the boat dissolves into a very wet, very angry-looking Sam.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Sam explodes. “First I walk in on my brother banging an angel. And now this?” He clambers out of the water, dripping everywhere. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”
Gabriel grins. “It’d be a crime not to mess with you. You guys are just so easy." He sobers. "And thick-headed. You survived the freaking Apocalypse, and what do you do? Instead of taking time out to enjoy the triumph, you jump right back into the line of fire, and all for the sake of a little inter-species nookie. Take it from me kids: it's not worth it. Savor your victory and be safe." With a snap of his fingers, he’s gone.
“Douchebag,” Dean mutters. Then something occurs to him, and he points at Sam. “You tipped me into the water on purpose!”
Sam doesn’t deny it. “You spent the evening riding on my back. You probably made out with Cas on top of me. And you didn’t tell me about this thing-whatever-between you. Thanks a lot, by the way, my eyes will never be the same.”
"I didn’t know I needed your permission," Dean snaps. At the look on Sam's face, he sighs and relents. "It’s just, it’s new, you know? We were going to tell you eventually.” He wrings water out of his shirt. “If we have to have this fight, can we do it back at the motel, with clean clothes? Cas, can you get us out of here?”
“I think so.” A second later, they’re back in the motel room. Dean lets Sam have the first shower as a peace offering. Meanwhile, Cas cleans Dean up. When he touches Dean's forehead, Dean reaches out and pulls him into a kiss. Castiel’s arms close around him and they lean into each other, foreheads touching, eyes closed.
That night, Dean and Cas don’t say “I love you.” But when they’re pressed together, naked and satisfied in the back of the Impala, Dean has to admit that whatever this thing is, it feels an awful lot like love.