Dean of Iniquity.
AO3
“Cas,” Dean said, gruff and abrupt, “we gotta talk about something.”
Castiel nodded and followed him, with Sam looking after them curiously. Dean made a cutting motion across his throat, and Sam, apparently getting the gist of how fragile things still were with them, backed off visibly.
---
They walked into the motel room, Sam left out by Baby, and Castiel stood, stiff, expectant.
“You know what ol’ Zach did to me?” Dean asked, wondering how much he had to tell, and Castiel shook his head.
“Something to ensure your cooperation. Zachariah is very concerned with that.”
Dean just kind of stared at Cas for a moment, because “Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious, but it’s a little more involved than that. He sent me to the future, and you were there, I was there, but Sam, he—”
Castiel stared back, even harder, as he faltered. “Dean? Where was Sam?”
Dean looked down and rubbed a hand on his jaw. “He was Lucifer, Cas. He was full-on, suited-up Devil Gone Wild. You and me, we were hunting him down with the Colt, and the whole world was monster central, and Sammy said the big Yes.”
“I assume this is why you asked him to return.” Cas said, quiet, inquisitive, “And why you would—Dean, you know I will change.”
Dean’s head shot up fast. “Cas?”
“I know you’re uncomfortable with that, but I will, as I Fall, I will change. There’s nothing to be done.”
Castiel sounded little except disapproving of the reality, but Dean’s body went cold, and he started to sweat. “Yeah, Cas, I know but—” He could hear the laugh of Cas the drugged out hippie as clear as a bell still in his head, and it was like being hit in the stomach every time, the memory.
“I’m not sure why you’d resist this. In Maine, you seemed to enjoy the idea, even when I did not.”
Castiel’s voice was vaguely admonishing, and Dean clenched his jaw, fighting the encroaching guilt of forcing an angel into “iniquity”. He figured the guy wanted it, right? It’s not a big deal, and it never happened anyway. It never happened. Just like hippie Cas is still just hypothetical, if Dean can say something, do something, to stop it.
Destiny can’t be changed, Cas had said once, but to hell with that, that was Dean’s stone number one, fuck all that crap.
“I was wrong, Cas.” He stepped toward the angel, who seemed to be digesting Dean’s words, his expression barely changing, and sighed, softened his voice. “Listen, Zach showed me that world, where you’re... me, drinking and fucking and who the fuck cares. Where the damn stick’s gone.”
Castiel tilted his head, confused, and Dean waved a hand. “Nevermind. The point is. It was cool, Cas, it is cool, that you want to stick around, help us with this, but you don’t have to change, you and me can be completely different, and we can still be friends—still fight this damned Apocalypse together. Okay?”
Castiel nodded, his brows scrunched, lips falling open with, “Dean, I—” and Dean put up a hand, stopped him.
“You don’t have to say nothing, Cas. I know.”
Castiel then looked frustrated. “Dean, please listen to me. I don’t know, exactly, what will happen to me once I am human. I don’t know for sure how I will feel or act. I do know, however—we are different. You and I are not at all the same. Whatever Zachariah said, whatever was shown to you, was likely a very distant version of myself.”
Dean bit his lip and shoved his hands in his pockets. “That mean you wouldn’t stick around that long? Was Zach funnin’ with me there too?”
Castiel was the one to step forward this time, his gait as awkward and purposeful as always. “I cannot tell you our entire future, Dean, but I can say that there hasn’t yet been a battle I would not follow you into.”
They were very close, and for a moment, Dean thought of that weird feeling between the other them, that past they seemed to have, and things got weird. Dean reached out and touched Cas’s hand, just to try it, and Cas’s lips tilted up.
“I don’t think a handshake is meant to be conducted with the same hands, Dean,” he said, voice dry, unsuspecting.
“But these ain’t your hands anyway, right, Cas? Yours are all powerful and shit, made of the universe or whatever.”
Castiel’s smile smoothed out into his usual line. “James Novak is gone now, Dean, and I am Falling, so no. They are my hands. This vessel is mine alone.” Despite the unhappiness in his tone, Cas clutched Dean’s fingers a little tighter.
Dean clung back, licking his lips anxiously. “So the rest of you, that’s all you, then. Not stepping on anybody’s toes with the hooker, or, uh. Anybody else.”
Castiel’s head tilted again. “That is what I just said. Why?”
Why? “Well, like, we don’t want to—you don’t, you don’t want to. Jimmy shouldn’t be there for that, that’d be…disrespectful, I think.”
“But I said, I’m not interested in iniquity, Dean. So why ask me that?”
Dean looked away, but never let go of Cas’s hand. “The other Cas, the…the one who’s not you. I got the feeling we—the other me. The other me and the other you, that we were—”
Castiel made a quiet sound of exasperation. “What, Dean? What were they doing?”
Dean swallowed hard and met Cas’s eyes. “I think they might’ve been together, at one point. Like. Like fucking.”
Castiel’s face was stormy; he mouthed the word, ‘fucking’ to himself, and then nodded once. “You and I engaged in loving acts with each other. As James did with his wife.” He looked curious, and Dean’s stomach dropped heavily.
“Yeah, man, I think we did, and I just thought, uh, what if—” Dean used the hold on Cas’s hand to pull him closer, making sure to stay still himself, and looked at him, differently, like he would any number of hot chicks at a bar. Castiel gazed back with his usual intensity.
“Are you wondering if I would? Dean—”
Dean shook his head and started to back off. “Don’t worry about it, Cas, I get it. Even if you were a sexy kinda guy, I’m no Chastity. We should probably—”
Castiel shook Dean’s arm once, and Dean shut up. “Please, stop that. I wanted to say, it is a possibility.”
Dean’s jaw dropped with shock. “What? Cas, if you’re doing this for me, again. You don’t have to, I told you that.”
Castiel started moving, pushing Dean forward until his back hit the wall like an abandoned bike in the path of Baby slowly backing into a driveway, and glared at him a little bit. “I wish you’d stop, Dean. Not everything is for you.”
“And you would? Like, with me, you’d do it? For you?” Castiel’s eyes flickered and he took a step closer, until one of Jimmy’s sensible shoes was between Dean’s ragged boots. Carefully, like he was measuring a sigil or something, he put his hands on Dean’s hips and, looking down at the hold, murmured,
“I can say honestly there is no one else with whom I could imagine wanting it.” He looked up again, and now his eyes were flooded with pupil, intent on Dean’s face. “Not Chastity. No one.”
Dean gulped loudly, and Castiel’s eyes fell to his bobbing Adam’s apple. “Cas, this is the no-going-back zone, are we good?” he asked, just one more time, because how. This wasn’t even possible.
A fucking angel, for fuck’s sake.
The angel in question made a sound of frustration and lifted Dean easily against the wall where his hands held his hips, pushing the closest yet to breathe over his mouth. “We’re perfect, Dean, as soon as you stop questioning me.”
His lips tingled and Dean swallowed again, leaning down to kiss Castiel, fingers sliding over his coat as he gave Cas what he was pretty sure was his first kiss. Castiel answered him in kind, slow and a little clumsy, biting him once by accident, moving in on him like that same car on that bike until they were melded, chest to chest, hips to hips, hardening dick to hardening dick. Dean tugged on the lapels of that damned trench, pulling Cas harder against his mouth and dipping his tongue deep. It didn’t taste like what he was expecting—mostly it tasted like a mouth—but it was Cas, and Cas was making noises, and it was time to get down to business.
He wriggled, trying to push down, still lapping at Cas’s mouth, and only managed to torture himself when he got a groinful of Cas, a hot bump in his slacks nudging against Dean’s jeans and hitting his libido hard with the friction.
Dean groaned, pushed down some more just for fun, and then mumbled into Cas’s mouth with a smirk, “I know you’ve got strength right out of a porno, man, and trust me, we’re gonna play with that later, but you can let go for now.”
Castiel looked at him with intensity ramped up to ten times its usual, but he did, he followed the instruction and dropped Dean back to his feet—feet he immediately liberated of his boots, tapping Cas’s shoes with his socked toes to remind him, yeah, Eldritch dude, it’s time to get the clothes gone. The shoes disappeared, Dean’s boots appeared with them near the door (good god, what a nerd, Sam would be proud), and then their coats were gone too, cos Cas was exceptionally good at getting with the program once he had a plan.
Castiel looked smaller—not small, by a long shot, but smaller—without the coats, just in that fucking backwards tie and ill-fitting collared shirt, and honestly, it comforted Dean just a tad that the guy could even look at all human, even if he was barely in need of air and mentally undressing Dean in the most literal sense. Drawn back to him, Dean grabbed Cas close and kissed him hard again, using all of his considerable skill to actually get him panting; he felt smug when it worked, even as Castiel sent pleasant hnngh through him with his hands shoving up under Dean’s shirts and scratching lightly into skin.
“Eager, aren’t ya,” he said, soft, into Cas’s mouth, and Cas bit him in retaliation, eyes popping open with a glare. Dean’s lip throbbed and he bit back, smiling to soften the hurt. He didn’t want this to go super fast, but he wanted to keep the angel interested, y’know? So he pushed Cas back, glare or not, and unbuttoned that shirt until there was honeyed skin and way too good of a figure for Jimmy the ad guy or whatever to have, all in view, all Dean’s. And then it was game fucking over.
Castiel actually shuddered when Dean dropped to his knees, because oblivious kinda asexual Falling angel or not, he apparently got the gist of what that meant. Dean didn’t let him dwell, moving his mouth over that skin and leaving a trail of kisses just over his waistband. Cas was hard as fuck, probably in some freaky way where it wouldn’t even go away after Dean got him off the first time, and damn, Dean had never been as bi as he was this fucking moment; he was gonna blow Cas until neither one of them could stand it, just as soon as he—yeah, there was the nod, and he opened up those slacks.
The boring briefs came down with the slacks and there he was, girth and moist tip, ugh, so hot it was criminal (and Dean would know, seasoned felon he was). Castiel was watching him, too, which made it even better. His curiosity was palpable, almost, so much focus that he barely reacted when Dean actually gave him some with that first wet, openmouthed kiss right where it was wettest. It had no taste, and Dean glanced up at Cas, confused, cos come always tasted like something.
“Is angel come like water or something, or something else, cos like, Cas, I need to know if—” Cas looked a bit guilty as Dean got back to it, murmuring something about trying to help Dean by blocking his tastebuds.
Dean choked on a laugh. I have seen reactions to this, Dean; the taste has never seemed pleasant. Jesus fucking Christ.
Wrapping his mouth around the end, he glanced at Cas and thought real hard at him, Let me taste you, asshole.Then suddenly his buds were back and holy shit, the flavor, unlike anything. As weird as he was expecting the tongue to be, and seriously not bad at all, totally worth the having. He wanted more, actually, and drove himself down, down, so far down that he should’ve gagged.
His eyes flicked up again and Castiel’s lips were turned up. He lifted his eyebrows once with a visible smugness despite the way his mouth fell slack when Dean’s throat worked around him, like he was saying You’re welcome. God, having an angel in his mouth was proving to be seriously auspicious; no fucking discomfort, he slid Cas back in his throat until his nose was up against his groin, and he could feel the flesh going tighter, until he would have choked, but didn’t.
Cas was panting again, his nostrils flaring, like he was losing control of his vessel, and Dean gulped a few times, loudly, making sure it was heard, staring up, making sure he was seen.
Taste good, Cas, he thought at the angel, and Cas’s eyes slammed shut as his body slumped, lax and open. Dean started licking him then, pulling off to slide his tongue up and down both sides and under the head. Cas made a loud noise, a noise Dean doubted he’d ever made before, and Dean slid back on like a glove, shoving past his nonexistent gag reflex and starting to bob.
As dangerous as it was, Dean couldn’t help but laugh with absolute joy when he sucked faster, digging a hand into Cas’s ass, and the angel actually tilted off-balance, startled into a shout of pleasure. He held Cas up, as much you could an angel, and laughed some more, until Cas actually bucked, sliding long fingers through Dean’s hair and mumbling under his breath, “Dean, you must—I’m not—ah Dean—”
Normally, his jaw’d be tired by now, so he knew Cas had to be doing something weird with his body. You can come, he thought, loudly, and yeah, there it was, Cas letting go; Dean could feel the pulse in his mouth and very suddenly he was swallowing come, as with a sharp cry, Cas’s hips wavered, jerking, and they both almost fell backward.
Cas caught them at the last minute and then they were falling into the bed; Dean dropped, newly naked, onto Cas’s surprisingly soft stomach beside the glistening erection still remaining, listening with satisfaction to a job well done in the angel’s harsh breathing and turning up to smile at his chin.
“Told you it was a perk,” he said, voice hoarse, unable to stop smiling. Castiel made a snuffling sound that almost sounded like he was laughing.
“I didn’t know at the time that you were offering yourself as iniquity,” Cas said dryly, and Dean smacked his hip.
“I wasn’t, actually, then. But seriously, sex is awesome, can’t deny it Cas.” He rubbed the injured hip and kissed the pink mark, tracing the line of his hipbone with his tongue.
“It’s not as boring and pointless as I’ve thought before, I admit.” Castiel wrapped legs around Dean and tugged him with his powerful thighs (damn) up his body until they could face each other. “Sex is immaterial, but I do want you, Dean. That’s...novel.” Cas was kind of smiling, even as he lifted his head to kiss Dean, punctuating his confession.
Dean bore down on the angel, twisting his hips until he was mostly straddling the thick body beneath him, kissing back for all he was worth (but honestly he didn’t want to get into that right now). Cas clutched him at the small of his back and rubbed a hand up to his shoulder, learning fast how to match Dean with his mouth, his wicked tongue.
“Fuck. You too, Cas,” he whimpered over Cas’s swelling lips as Cas rolled his hips upward, rubbing his cock over Dean’s groin and Dean’s own aching erection. Dean was sweating, his fingers claws in Cas’s shoulders as his shirt fell open, his mouth slick over Cas’s as he kissed him, deeply.
Cas, of course, wasn’t, even as he exhaled abruptly with what could have been exertion as he gently rolled them over, into a different position but with that same torturous friction.
He slid his dick through Dean’s sweat, made Dean gasp, took that gasp down his throat, and didn’t let Dean make much more sound than that for a long, long time.
---
So long that, even when they came out perfectly clean (thank fuck for abusing Cas’s remaining mojo) and presentable, Sam was smirking, twirling the keys near Baby’s open door on the driver’s side.
He punched Sam on the shoulder, gave him a warning look, and turned to share a commiserating glance with Castiel.
Who, of course, was gone. Off on the God hunt again, no doubt.
Dean shifted as he adjusted the driver’s seat, feeling Baby purr, and the dull ass ache he’d implored Cas to leave him with, when he’d swept grace over them, after the headboard had stilled, to clear their bodies of the residue of a marathon.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, he forcibly soothed the creases of his reflexive, entirely involuntary, smug smile, hopefully before Sam could notice.
Cas’d be back. There was no way that was the last time.