Married With Children, 2/3
Title: Married With Children, Part 2/3
Author: jedimastercait
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Crowley
Rating: T
Word Count: WIP
Spoilers/Warnings: all of season 5 (takes place in between 5.21 and 5.22)
Summary: Fighting the end of the world is kind of difficult when your brother has been turned into a five-year-old.
“Good morning, Princess.”
Five-year-old Crowley’s smug face was definitely not the first thing Dean ever wanted to wake up to, especially with the demon’s sinister grin spread across his face like he had just done something horribly wicked.
“Had a good night, I see?”
Dean still groggy from sleep (a full eight hours, no less-fucking awesome), the words didn’t fully register as he rolled over onto his bare back and came face to face with Castiel’s naked torso.
Oh shit.
“Ohshitohshitohshit…” he groaned as he practically toppled out of bed in the race to grab his jeans from where they had been tossed haphazardly on the floor the night before.
“My, my, my…” Crowley mumbled in glee, “how shall we explain this to little Sammy?”
“Don’t you have a soul to go steal or something,” the hunter growled as he struggled to pull his worn, dirty jeans up his legs, the material tangling on his feet.
Crowley shook his head. “This is far more interesting. Besides,” he added nonchalantly, “the creepy child-demon thing was really more Lilith’s specialty, and I, for one, do not plagiarize.”
“Whatever. How ‘bout you just leave before I stuff your pretty face full of bullets?”
“No need to be rude, darling,” the demon-child pouted. “I just wanted to welcome you to the club.”
Then he was gone.
Dean looked back at Castiel, snoring softly into his pillow.
Fuck.
--
They arrived at Bobby’s house half a day later, after what Dean was sure would always be the Most Awkward Car Ride ever. Castiel and Dean continued to remain aloof at the house, and if Bobby noticed, Dean was sure he chalked up to Castiel’s normally strange and socially awkward behavior. That being said, Dean did not usually treat the ex-angel like he was a brick wall, nor did his ears usually turn red whenever they were required to speak (which was quite often, actually, since they and Bobby were the only adults present), so when Bobby cornered him later that day, he was sad to say he wasn’t all that surprised.
“I’m fine, Bobby, just tired.”
“You sure don’t seem fine, boy.”
“Yeah well, I am.”
“Anybody ever tell you you got less emotions than a piece of sheet metal.”
“You might’ve mentioned it before.”
“Well, it’s still true.”
“Great.”
And that was that.
Actually-
“Idjit.”
Now they were done.
--
It was nearing midnight when Castiel finally sought him out. Sam had been put to bed and Dean was sitting at Bobby’s desk, reading book after book until the words began to blur into one big You’re royally screwed, Dean. Fucking books…
Castiel was stiff, his face statuesque as he said “You do not wish to discuss last night.”
Dean rolled his eyes as he took a swig of beer. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“Why?” Quizzical now, with a hint of the hurt puppy dog look Dean had seen so often on Sam’s manipulative face.
“Because…” He trailed off, covering it by taking another sip of beer. Because why? Because he wasn’t gay? Because Castiel was his best friend? Because it was almost blasphemous? Because it was weird and yet not? Because he wasn’t sure he didn’t want it? Because…
“Look, Cas-I’m not gay.”
“I did not say that you were.”
Dean sighed, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Yeah, I know, but what we…did…last night-“
“I did not wish for you to have a sexual crisis, Dean,” Castiel explained quietly. “I merely thought…”
Despite himself, his curiosity got the better of him. “Thought what?”
“We spend much time together,” he hesitated. “We are friends.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, of course, we’re friends. What’s that gotta do with it?”
Castiel licked his chapped lips, dragging Dean’s focus to them, perfectly plump and surprisingly soft on his own rough ones last night. Tender, hesitant kisses from a once ethereal being who wasn’t sure of the methods of human courtship. Dean, leading him through the motions, more patient than he’d been in a long time, and then, as they began to heat up, rougher, taking control, his hands roaming over Castiel’s smooth flesh, linger on the shoulder blades where once had been the angel’s wings. Castiel had whimpered-
Okay, that was enough.
“In all the films and television shows I have been shown, friends who truly care about one another find love in each other.”
“Oh,” was Dean’s brilliant response. This was more serious than he had realized. Castiel, who had been hypnotized by primetime television had practically just proclaimed his love for Dean and he had replied with 'oh.' His head was reeling, trying to think of something intelligent to reply with, while at the same time, trying not to raise Castiel’s hopes. Because more importantly than him not being gay, Dean Winchester most certainly did not fall in love.
“I gave everything for you.”
Castiel’s words from the previous night sprung to his mind, and he suppressed the urge to groan. This was much more important to Castiel than he had realized, and he had spent the entire day avoiding him whenever humanly possible. What was a guy to say to that sort of confession? Yes, Castiel was a good friend (his best friend, in fact) but Dean was not in love with him.
(Even if he maybe possibly kinda sorta might beginning to like him-or rather, his lips. And his skin. And his shoulders. And fuck, those gorgeous blue eyes.)
Oh, this was not good.
“Cas, that’s just…tv, man. It’s not, y’know, real,” he stumbled, trying to let down the ex-angel gently. “I mean, we’re friends, but love…that’s a real big word. Heavy, I mean. Love…well, it means something.”
Castiel’s eyes were poignant and serious, as serious as when he had first told Dean the hunter needed to stop Sam’s dark path or the angels would, as he said “I do not take it lightly. When angels mate, it is for life.”
“But you’re not an angel anymore.”
When he saw the regret in Castiel’s eyes, he wanted to slap himself. Way to rub salt in the wound, Winchester.
But he did not have a chance to say sorry, for suddenly he heard Sam upstairs, screaming.
“NOOOOOO! DEEEEAANNNNNNN!”
Author: jedimastercait
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Crowley
Rating: T
Word Count: WIP
Spoilers/Warnings: all of season 5 (takes place in between 5.21 and 5.22)
Summary: Fighting the end of the world is kind of difficult when your brother has been turned into a five-year-old.
“Good morning, Princess.”
Five-year-old Crowley’s smug face was definitely not the first thing Dean ever wanted to wake up to, especially with the demon’s sinister grin spread across his face like he had just done something horribly wicked.
“Had a good night, I see?”
Dean still groggy from sleep (a full eight hours, no less-fucking awesome), the words didn’t fully register as he rolled over onto his bare back and came face to face with Castiel’s naked torso.
Oh shit.
“Ohshitohshitohshit…” he groaned as he practically toppled out of bed in the race to grab his jeans from where they had been tossed haphazardly on the floor the night before.
“My, my, my…” Crowley mumbled in glee, “how shall we explain this to little Sammy?”
“Don’t you have a soul to go steal or something,” the hunter growled as he struggled to pull his worn, dirty jeans up his legs, the material tangling on his feet.
Crowley shook his head. “This is far more interesting. Besides,” he added nonchalantly, “the creepy child-demon thing was really more Lilith’s specialty, and I, for one, do not plagiarize.”
“Whatever. How ‘bout you just leave before I stuff your pretty face full of bullets?”
“No need to be rude, darling,” the demon-child pouted. “I just wanted to welcome you to the club.”
Then he was gone.
Dean looked back at Castiel, snoring softly into his pillow.
Fuck.
--
They arrived at Bobby’s house half a day later, after what Dean was sure would always be the Most Awkward Car Ride ever. Castiel and Dean continued to remain aloof at the house, and if Bobby noticed, Dean was sure he chalked up to Castiel’s normally strange and socially awkward behavior. That being said, Dean did not usually treat the ex-angel like he was a brick wall, nor did his ears usually turn red whenever they were required to speak (which was quite often, actually, since they and Bobby were the only adults present), so when Bobby cornered him later that day, he was sad to say he wasn’t all that surprised.
“I’m fine, Bobby, just tired.”
“You sure don’t seem fine, boy.”
“Yeah well, I am.”
“Anybody ever tell you you got less emotions than a piece of sheet metal.”
“You might’ve mentioned it before.”
“Well, it’s still true.”
“Great.”
And that was that.
Actually-
“Idjit.”
Now they were done.
--
It was nearing midnight when Castiel finally sought him out. Sam had been put to bed and Dean was sitting at Bobby’s desk, reading book after book until the words began to blur into one big You’re royally screwed, Dean. Fucking books…
Castiel was stiff, his face statuesque as he said “You do not wish to discuss last night.”
Dean rolled his eyes as he took a swig of beer. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“Why?” Quizzical now, with a hint of the hurt puppy dog look Dean had seen so often on Sam’s manipulative face.
“Because…” He trailed off, covering it by taking another sip of beer. Because why? Because he wasn’t gay? Because Castiel was his best friend? Because it was almost blasphemous? Because it was weird and yet not? Because he wasn’t sure he didn’t want it? Because…
“Look, Cas-I’m not gay.”
“I did not say that you were.”
Dean sighed, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Yeah, I know, but what we…did…last night-“
“I did not wish for you to have a sexual crisis, Dean,” Castiel explained quietly. “I merely thought…”
Despite himself, his curiosity got the better of him. “Thought what?”
“We spend much time together,” he hesitated. “We are friends.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, of course, we’re friends. What’s that gotta do with it?”
Castiel licked his chapped lips, dragging Dean’s focus to them, perfectly plump and surprisingly soft on his own rough ones last night. Tender, hesitant kisses from a once ethereal being who wasn’t sure of the methods of human courtship. Dean, leading him through the motions, more patient than he’d been in a long time, and then, as they began to heat up, rougher, taking control, his hands roaming over Castiel’s smooth flesh, linger on the shoulder blades where once had been the angel’s wings. Castiel had whimpered-
Okay, that was enough.
“In all the films and television shows I have been shown, friends who truly care about one another find love in each other.”
“Oh,” was Dean’s brilliant response. This was more serious than he had realized. Castiel, who had been hypnotized by primetime television had practically just proclaimed his love for Dean and he had replied with 'oh.' His head was reeling, trying to think of something intelligent to reply with, while at the same time, trying not to raise Castiel’s hopes. Because more importantly than him not being gay, Dean Winchester most certainly did not fall in love.
“I gave everything for you.”
Castiel’s words from the previous night sprung to his mind, and he suppressed the urge to groan. This was much more important to Castiel than he had realized, and he had spent the entire day avoiding him whenever humanly possible. What was a guy to say to that sort of confession? Yes, Castiel was a good friend (his best friend, in fact) but Dean was not in love with him.
(Even if he maybe possibly kinda sorta might beginning to like him-or rather, his lips. And his skin. And his shoulders. And fuck, those gorgeous blue eyes.)
Oh, this was not good.
“Cas, that’s just…tv, man. It’s not, y’know, real,” he stumbled, trying to let down the ex-angel gently. “I mean, we’re friends, but love…that’s a real big word. Heavy, I mean. Love…well, it means something.”
Castiel’s eyes were poignant and serious, as serious as when he had first told Dean the hunter needed to stop Sam’s dark path or the angels would, as he said “I do not take it lightly. When angels mate, it is for life.”
“But you’re not an angel anymore.”
When he saw the regret in Castiel’s eyes, he wanted to slap himself. Way to rub salt in the wound, Winchester.
But he did not have a chance to say sorry, for suddenly he heard Sam upstairs, screaming.
“NOOOOOO! DEEEEAANNNNNNN!”