[Supernatural Fic] This Changes Nothing
Title: This Changes Nothing
Author: defiantlygreen
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Meg/Castiel
Prompt: 10. Meg/Castiel - We have cookies.
Spoilers: 5x10, “Abandon All Hope”
Word count: 1, 459
Warnings: Slight hints of dub-con, I guess.
Summary: Meg makes Castiel an offer he can’t refuse.
Notes: Written for wordsmeetwings. Also, I would just like to say that ravenspear is an enabler of the very best kind. Thank you. :D [Also, an NC-17 sequel will be up sometime soon…hopefully.]
Castiel watches silently from the doorway as the Winchesters and Bobby burn their group photo, in an imitation of the hunter’s funeral pyre for Ellen and Jo. The angel is not overly upset about their deaths. Yes, the world has lost two fine hunters, and the three men inside the house have lost two good friends, but they are in Paradise now. They are at peace; their suffering is over.
He is more concerned with the demon that has been following them since Missouri, waiting somewhere in the woods that surrounds Bobby’s property, unable to enter due to his wards, but clearly not leaving either.
He finds her in a clearing, wearing the same host from before. She’s changed out of her leather jacket though, into a tight-fitting black t-shirt that says, “Come to the dark side. We have cookies.”
Castiel frowns at the sight of the shirt. Why would anyone join Lucifer in exchange for a circular sugary baked treat?
Not for the first time, he thinks that humans make no sense.
Meg smiles at him. “You like?” she asks, indicating her shirt. “It’s cute, isn’t it? I really liked that jacket though. A shame, really. Burned beyond repair.”
“What do you want?”
“Easy, Clarence,” Meg teases. “You featherbrains. So straight-to-the-point.” She pouted. “You guys never want to play.”
“I will not ask again, demon. What do you want?” Dread grips the base of Castiel’s spine, though he does not show it. “Lucifer is here, isn’t he?”
Meg shakes her head. “Sorry, Clarence, my father’s not here at the moment. He’s got bigger fish to fry.” She smirks. “Raising Death takes a lot out of a guy’s schedule, you know.”
“So why have you come?”
“Dunno, really,” says Meg, shrugging. “Revenge, maybe. For this.” She lifts away her shirt and shows Castiel the row of burn scars that mark her flat stomach. “You should have heard Danni screaming, Clarence. You know, she used to believe in the goodness of Heaven and all that crap, but that was before an angel left her to burn.”
Castiel does not speak. It is regrettable that an innocent woman was hurt, but also unavoidable. And Danni is not the first human to be caught in the crossfire. Castiel does not make a habit of berating himself for things he cannot prevent.
“I may not be able to cast you from that body,” he says coldly, “but I am still more than capable of killing you.”
Meg laughs and holds up her hands. “Chill, tiger. I said ‘maybe’.” She tilts her head and smiles at him. “Actually, I’m curious. You’re the first angel my father’s ever tried to get on his side. I mean, yeah, some of you cloud-hoppers fell with him, but you’re the only angel he’s propositioned since getting booted down to Hell.” She saunters forward, lets her fingers dance tauntingly across Castiel’s chest. “What makes you so special?”
An answer, something Dean’s once said, jumps to Castiel’s mind. I’d like to think it’s because of my perky nipples.
He, of course, does not answer this.
“I gotta admit though…” Meg trails off, her fingers snaking up and lightly touching the side of Castiel’s neck. “…you’re pretty cute.” She makes a tutting noise. “You left me hanging there, Clarence. Is that anyway to treat a lady?”
“You are not a lady.”
“Details, details,” purrs Meg. She’s so close now, peeping up at the angel through lowered lashes, lips parted in a familiar grin. He can feel her warm, moist breath on his own mouth. It is almost an unholy parody of human seduction, the demon and the angel in their respective vessels pressing against each other, one fluid in her motions, the other stiff and unmoving.
“Here’s what I want, Clarence,” says Meg. Her hands have gone up, her arms balanced on Castiel’s shoulders, wrists crossed behind his neck. Anyone would mistake them for lovers, he thinks, and it disgusts him. “I want you to join my father.”
“I thought I made myself clear,” Castiel replies. “I’ll die first,” he repeats his words to Lucifer to this demon, and is rather startled (or as close to startled as an angel can get) when Meg’s smile widens.
“Not even for cookies?” she teases.
Unable to resist, a tiny smile rises on his lips. It is only there for a split-second, barely the duration of a heartbeat, but it’s enough.
“No,” he finally answers. As if, Castiel thinks, after everything, he would betray Dean Winchester for cookies.
“Not even for this?”
And then, quite suddenly, Meg’s lips are on his, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Castiel realizes that this is his first kiss.
He does not kiss her back.
Meg pulls away, pouting. “C’mon, Clarence,” she wheedles. “Play along.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”
“Because,” Meg replies, her eyes turning black, “if you bring out that pretty angel sword of yours, I’m leaving Danni here to rot, and I’m coming back with my father.”
Her meaning is not lost on Castiel, who, slowly, puts his hands on Meg’s hips.
The demon smirks, and her eyes turn back to her host’s normal color. “Thought you’d see things my way,” she murmurs, before again claiming Castiel’s lips.
--
Meg’s not sure exactly what her motives were when she followed the Winchesters to South Dakota. Alert her father to their presence, maybe? Revenge on the angel that burned her? One last shot at getting him to join their side?
She doesn’t particularly care anymore.
All she knows is that Castiel’s lips are soft and pliant against hers, and his hands grip tightly at her hips, and this is the best she’s felt in a really long time.
The kiss is surprisingly gentle, innocent, like teenagers on their first date, and as much as Meg is enjoying the angel’s touch, it’s time to kick things up a notch.
She breaks the kiss and slides her hands down to Castiel’s chest, carefully pushing him back. He obeys, though he’s probably a lot stronger than she is, the threat of Lucifer descending upon Bobby’s house hanging over his head. She doesn’t stop until his back is up against the rough bark of a tree, and she leans up, leans in, and, almost involuntarily, Castiel’s arms loop around her waist, pulling her to him.
The only thing that’s missing, Meg thinks, is the ring of holy fire around them.
“Do you know,” she whispers in his ear, “how badly I want to fuck you right now, Clarence?” She mouths at a spot on his neck, nipping, kissing, licking, tasting warm, clean skin.
She doesn’t miss the way his breath hitches and his arms tighten around her.
“You can deny it as much as you like.” She kisses a line up the slim column of his throat, delighting in the way a shudder ripples through Castiel’s body. “But I know you want this too.” She leans up and kisses him again, and this time, she does it properly. She kisses him the way a demon would kiss an angel.
She kisses him like she wants to corrupt him.
Castiel has evidently not done this before. That’s okay; Meg’s a pretty good teacher. She coaxes his mouth open with her tongue and discovers that he tastes like whiskey and something else, something celestial and otherworldly. Her fingers move from his chest and tangle themselves in his hair, and she can feel his hands moving to cup her face. Castiel is nothing if not a quick learner, and he responds eagerly, matching Meg stroke for stroke, in a battle of dominance that ends with no clear victor.
He breaks the kiss.
“This changes nothing,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, gruffer, and Meg is practically shivering with glee at the thought of what he’ll sound like after she fucks the living daylights out of him.
“Of course not,” she replies. She never expected it to.
And then they are nothing more than a man and a woman underneath the moonlight, taking a reprieve from their respective duties and enjoying each other’s embrace, participating in that age-old dance that has driven mankind mad since the very dawn of time.
Not an angel and a demon. Not sworn enemies. Not soldiers on opposing sides of a war.
Later, they will separate, put on their clothes, and walk away from each other without another word. Castiel will return to Bobby’s house and he will forget the pleasure of Meg’s warm, wet mouth and how it didn’t bother him that that mouth wasn’t hers. Meg will return to Lucifer and she will not mention that, when she came, she called him Castiel instead of Clarence.
They will never speak of this again.
Author: defiantlygreen
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Meg/Castiel
Prompt: 10. Meg/Castiel - We have cookies.
Spoilers: 5x10, “Abandon All Hope”
Word count: 1, 459
Warnings: Slight hints of dub-con, I guess.
Summary: Meg makes Castiel an offer he can’t refuse.
Notes: Written for wordsmeetwings. Also, I would just like to say that ravenspear is an enabler of the very best kind. Thank you. :D [Also, an NC-17 sequel will be up sometime soon…hopefully.]
Castiel watches silently from the doorway as the Winchesters and Bobby burn their group photo, in an imitation of the hunter’s funeral pyre for Ellen and Jo. The angel is not overly upset about their deaths. Yes, the world has lost two fine hunters, and the three men inside the house have lost two good friends, but they are in Paradise now. They are at peace; their suffering is over.
He is more concerned with the demon that has been following them since Missouri, waiting somewhere in the woods that surrounds Bobby’s property, unable to enter due to his wards, but clearly not leaving either.
He finds her in a clearing, wearing the same host from before. She’s changed out of her leather jacket though, into a tight-fitting black t-shirt that says, “Come to the dark side. We have cookies.”
Castiel frowns at the sight of the shirt. Why would anyone join Lucifer in exchange for a circular sugary baked treat?
Not for the first time, he thinks that humans make no sense.
Meg smiles at him. “You like?” she asks, indicating her shirt. “It’s cute, isn’t it? I really liked that jacket though. A shame, really. Burned beyond repair.”
“What do you want?”
“Easy, Clarence,” Meg teases. “You featherbrains. So straight-to-the-point.” She pouted. “You guys never want to play.”
“I will not ask again, demon. What do you want?” Dread grips the base of Castiel’s spine, though he does not show it. “Lucifer is here, isn’t he?”
Meg shakes her head. “Sorry, Clarence, my father’s not here at the moment. He’s got bigger fish to fry.” She smirks. “Raising Death takes a lot out of a guy’s schedule, you know.”
“So why have you come?”
“Dunno, really,” says Meg, shrugging. “Revenge, maybe. For this.” She lifts away her shirt and shows Castiel the row of burn scars that mark her flat stomach. “You should have heard Danni screaming, Clarence. You know, she used to believe in the goodness of Heaven and all that crap, but that was before an angel left her to burn.”
Castiel does not speak. It is regrettable that an innocent woman was hurt, but also unavoidable. And Danni is not the first human to be caught in the crossfire. Castiel does not make a habit of berating himself for things he cannot prevent.
“I may not be able to cast you from that body,” he says coldly, “but I am still more than capable of killing you.”
Meg laughs and holds up her hands. “Chill, tiger. I said ‘maybe’.” She tilts her head and smiles at him. “Actually, I’m curious. You’re the first angel my father’s ever tried to get on his side. I mean, yeah, some of you cloud-hoppers fell with him, but you’re the only angel he’s propositioned since getting booted down to Hell.” She saunters forward, lets her fingers dance tauntingly across Castiel’s chest. “What makes you so special?”
An answer, something Dean’s once said, jumps to Castiel’s mind. I’d like to think it’s because of my perky nipples.
He, of course, does not answer this.
“I gotta admit though…” Meg trails off, her fingers snaking up and lightly touching the side of Castiel’s neck. “…you’re pretty cute.” She makes a tutting noise. “You left me hanging there, Clarence. Is that anyway to treat a lady?”
“You are not a lady.”
“Details, details,” purrs Meg. She’s so close now, peeping up at the angel through lowered lashes, lips parted in a familiar grin. He can feel her warm, moist breath on his own mouth. It is almost an unholy parody of human seduction, the demon and the angel in their respective vessels pressing against each other, one fluid in her motions, the other stiff and unmoving.
“Here’s what I want, Clarence,” says Meg. Her hands have gone up, her arms balanced on Castiel’s shoulders, wrists crossed behind his neck. Anyone would mistake them for lovers, he thinks, and it disgusts him. “I want you to join my father.”
“I thought I made myself clear,” Castiel replies. “I’ll die first,” he repeats his words to Lucifer to this demon, and is rather startled (or as close to startled as an angel can get) when Meg’s smile widens.
“Not even for cookies?” she teases.
Unable to resist, a tiny smile rises on his lips. It is only there for a split-second, barely the duration of a heartbeat, but it’s enough.
“No,” he finally answers. As if, Castiel thinks, after everything, he would betray Dean Winchester for cookies.
“Not even for this?”
And then, quite suddenly, Meg’s lips are on his, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Castiel realizes that this is his first kiss.
He does not kiss her back.
Meg pulls away, pouting. “C’mon, Clarence,” she wheedles. “Play along.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”
“Because,” Meg replies, her eyes turning black, “if you bring out that pretty angel sword of yours, I’m leaving Danni here to rot, and I’m coming back with my father.”
Her meaning is not lost on Castiel, who, slowly, puts his hands on Meg’s hips.
The demon smirks, and her eyes turn back to her host’s normal color. “Thought you’d see things my way,” she murmurs, before again claiming Castiel’s lips.
--
Meg’s not sure exactly what her motives were when she followed the Winchesters to South Dakota. Alert her father to their presence, maybe? Revenge on the angel that burned her? One last shot at getting him to join their side?
She doesn’t particularly care anymore.
All she knows is that Castiel’s lips are soft and pliant against hers, and his hands grip tightly at her hips, and this is the best she’s felt in a really long time.
The kiss is surprisingly gentle, innocent, like teenagers on their first date, and as much as Meg is enjoying the angel’s touch, it’s time to kick things up a notch.
She breaks the kiss and slides her hands down to Castiel’s chest, carefully pushing him back. He obeys, though he’s probably a lot stronger than she is, the threat of Lucifer descending upon Bobby’s house hanging over his head. She doesn’t stop until his back is up against the rough bark of a tree, and she leans up, leans in, and, almost involuntarily, Castiel’s arms loop around her waist, pulling her to him.
The only thing that’s missing, Meg thinks, is the ring of holy fire around them.
“Do you know,” she whispers in his ear, “how badly I want to fuck you right now, Clarence?” She mouths at a spot on his neck, nipping, kissing, licking, tasting warm, clean skin.
She doesn’t miss the way his breath hitches and his arms tighten around her.
“You can deny it as much as you like.” She kisses a line up the slim column of his throat, delighting in the way a shudder ripples through Castiel’s body. “But I know you want this too.” She leans up and kisses him again, and this time, she does it properly. She kisses him the way a demon would kiss an angel.
She kisses him like she wants to corrupt him.
Castiel has evidently not done this before. That’s okay; Meg’s a pretty good teacher. She coaxes his mouth open with her tongue and discovers that he tastes like whiskey and something else, something celestial and otherworldly. Her fingers move from his chest and tangle themselves in his hair, and she can feel his hands moving to cup her face. Castiel is nothing if not a quick learner, and he responds eagerly, matching Meg stroke for stroke, in a battle of dominance that ends with no clear victor.
He breaks the kiss.
“This changes nothing,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, gruffer, and Meg is practically shivering with glee at the thought of what he’ll sound like after she fucks the living daylights out of him.
“Of course not,” she replies. She never expected it to.
And then they are nothing more than a man and a woman underneath the moonlight, taking a reprieve from their respective duties and enjoying each other’s embrace, participating in that age-old dance that has driven mankind mad since the very dawn of time.
Not an angel and a demon. Not sworn enemies. Not soldiers on opposing sides of a war.
Later, they will separate, put on their clothes, and walk away from each other without another word. Castiel will return to Bobby’s house and he will forget the pleasure of Meg’s warm, wet mouth and how it didn’t bother him that that mouth wasn’t hers. Meg will return to Lucifer and she will not mention that, when she came, she called him Castiel instead of Clarence.
They will never speak of this again.