Supernatural || Destiel || President Castiel James Novak
After years of conservative politicians leading America, Castiel Novak decides it’s time for a change. He’s taking office by storm, and not just in a political way as his Heads of Security, Dean and Sam Winchester seem to have difficulty keeping the new president safe. Sam’s all about staying in the background while Dean likes to always be next to President Novak, seeing things from ‘ground level’. But we all know what happened during the President’s short trip to Hawaii, or rather, everyone who needs to know, knows.
Destiel college au where Dean and Cas have science together and Cas thinks Dean is unbarebly hot and tries his best to be suave but is just a bumbling nerd and than they go on break am Dean asks Cas for a cigarette so of course they smoke together and get to know each other. The next time they have class Cas is walking and he thinks he sees Dean with a girl, heartbroken (because he kinda made himself look good for that day). Later he sees the same couple from before and realizes that no, that's not Dean, it's a guy that looks vaguely like Dean from the back. With new hope in his heart and determination as his mind set, he asks Dean out. Dean doesn't say no, but he doesn't say yes and that's a downer but after class? When both are walking to their cars? Dean pulls up in a shiny black car. "You want to get burgers?" Dean asks, a crooked smile on his face. Cas definitely says yes.
When Sam wakes up it’s different, he’s in a carnival, how strange is that? It gets even stranger when his brain catches up and it feels like he just talked to Dean. But Dean died several years ago, he knew this, so… maybe it was just a dream? It must have been, and Sam pushes it from his mind, instead taking in surroundings, starting with his clothing.
He’s not wearing his normal flannel, but instead wearing a soft and freshly laundered undershirt. This goes the same for his underpants, which are also white. He stands up shakily, looking around in the darkness. “Hello?” Sam calls, picking up a conveniently placed lantern. “Hello?” He repeats, walking blindly forward as the gentle sound of waves on wood started. "Is anyone there?" He calls one last time before a blue glow starts to fill the room.
A bedroom seems to form around him, shrouded in deep red silks, the blue light causing an odd chilled feeling. There seemed to be no exits, and if there were, the silk covered them. This isn’t what captured Sam’s attention however, his ears honing in on a baritone hum from a darkened part of the room. As the glow slowly got brighter the body rose, his voice coming out smooth and hypnotizing.
The ship, it swayed, heave ho, heave ho,
On the dark and stormy blue,
And I held tight to the Captain’s might
As he pulled up his trews.
“You haven’t slept,” heave ho, he said,
“In many suns and moons.”
Sam doesn’t even know why, but he’s captivated, he knows this song for some ungodly reason, and that voice? It sounded all too familiar, so it doesn’t take Sam long to join.
”Oh, I will sleep when we reach shore,”
“And pray we get there soon.”
He said, “Now hush love, here’s your gown.”
“There’s the bed, lantern’s down.”
But I don’t want to go to sleep; in all my dreams, I drown.
The body moves closer as they sing, revealing a tall man with blonde hair. His skin looks nearly dead in the light, his eyes covered by odd shadows. He’s attractive; Sam won’t lie, even to himself. Though only an inch shorter than Sam, he seems larger than just his height, as if he were a god amongst men.
The Captain howled “Heave ho, heave ho”
And tied me up with sheets
“A storm is brewing in the South”
“It’s time to go to sleep”
Blondie moves forward, removing some shadows and snaking around Sam with incredible ease. They share eye contact the entire time, browns on blues, a silent battle of will power and seduction. The other man smirks, seeming a little too cocky but still never missing a beat.
His berth, it rocks, heave ho, heave ho
The ocean gnashed and moaned
Like Jona will be swallowed whole
And spat back teeth and bones
This time it’s Sam that steps forward, crowding into the man’s space and surprising him for a split second. The man, whose voice and eyes and very essence felt familiar, let a seductive smile fall onto his face. He didn’t even miss a note as his fingers reached out and slowly wrapped themselves around Sam’s angled hips. They stared into each other’s eyes, something that vaguely reminded Sam of Dean and someone (he couldn’t quite be sure), before tipping themselves over, the man with the beautifully sinful voice gently placing Sam on the red silk bed he had neglected to notice before.
He said, “Now hush love, here’s your gown.”
“There’s the bed, lantern’s down.”
“But I don’t want to go to sleep; in all my dreams, I drown.”
Sam allows it to happen; he’s too hypnotized by this man, this beautiful creature with a look in his eye that just screams ‘I need help’. That’s something Sam has always been good at, helping. He’s so hypnotized he doesn’t even realize he’s singing by himself until the man’s lips stop their moving and his hands slide up Sam’s body.
”Captain! Captain!
I will do your chores
I will warm your cot at night
And mop your cabin floors
Scold me, hold me
I’ll be yours to keep
The only thing I beg of you
Don’t make me go to sleep”
Blondie doesn’t stop his movements the entire time Sam sings, the entire time he runs gentle calloused fingers over Sam’s bare arms, or the small strip of skin showing at his waist. The very touch of this man creates sensations Sam has never felt before, ever, not with Ruby, or Sarah or Brady. This heat that pools at his stomach continues to grow and he can tell the other man is being affected as well, his touches being more calculated but still exploring, as if he never expected this reaction. Sam would last at the idea if he wasn’t so compelled to sing with this man, it was odd, like reliving a dream he had never had.
The sky it flashed, heave ho, heave ho,
His pillow toed to the brink.
The curtains ran between my legs as we began to sink.
The man made his move, his mouth closing in on Sam's neck and behind his ear, a weak spot he keeps hidden with his luxurious hair, the man's breath is warm on his skin and the very words reverberating through out Sam.
I closed my eyes, heave ho, heave ho,
As the ship was rent and fell.
Eddies in the water headed to the mouth of Hell
“Hush now, hush love, here’s your gown.”
“There’s the bed, lantern’s down.”
“I’m begging you please wake me up
In all my dreams I….”
There’s only one reason Sam stops singing, and that’s because the man, wild thing, ever so softly runs his lips over Sam neck, causing him not only to shut up but to make a small whine in want. That’s all the man needed to continue. It’s beautiful, like lightening kisses, strong and glorious and the true definition of awesome.
It leaves Sam shaking, and grabbing at the man’s own shirt, keeping him staple gunned to his body. Sam’s fingers greedily take in skin, determined to get on an even playing field. He snakes his large hands under the man’s shirt and runs his fingers over the planes of the strange man’s body. It isn’t as soft as Sam’s and there are still some odd bumps here as if he’d seen more than his fair share, Sam knows this feeling, like week old cuts. He makes a move to look, just a peek, but the man bites at his neck, distracting Sam with gasps of pain and pleasure.
When Sam makes another move to look at the marks his lover stops, removing himself from Sam’s collar bone and leaning back, sighing heavily. “It is time for you to leave Sam, you have failed.”
Sam blinked, confusion quickly replacing any other emotion he had. “What do you mean, I ‘failed’?” The man gives no answers but instead reaches out with a pale hand and caresses Sam’s face, his thumb resting on his lower lip.
"One for the road, hm?" He must have meant it rhetorically because he doesn’t give Sam any time to respond, instead leaning down and gently placing his lips against Sam’s. It’s like nothing he’d felt before, the electricity is still there, the awe is as well, but this time it’s gentle, gentle and sweet with a kick of bitter. Why bitter? Sam had no idea, because at that very moment his eyes closed and darkness surrounded him, sleep overtaking him.
Dean beats the shit out of Cas that night, tears filling his eyes, his hands bloodied. Castiel didn’t stop him, he let his beloved beat his face, crack the skin farther, and fall into his arms as a broken man. Castiel cards his fingers through Dean’s hair, his face healing of all physical injures but the cracks staying. He breathes in the smell of blood and Dean, as the taller man weeps into his arms. “I had to Dean, I had to.”
Dean turns to stone in his arms, standing and becoming cold, the Dean that happened so many years ago. He pulls away, his eyes nothing but pained rage, “You had to? He’s my fucking little brother! You didn’t have to, whatever the fuck it was Cas, there is always an option!” Castiel fixes his collar, ridding his whole body of any blood or dirt, “Not in this case Dean.”
Dean laughs brokenly, leaning his head back as he stares at the ceiling. He blinks a couple times, something he often does when he’s holding something back. “Fine.” Dean says, bringing his hands down to his sides to give them a little pat. “So if it was me you’d kill me?”
Castiel’s heart stopped, his grace roars up in retaliation, breaking a few local lightbulbs. That silent reaction was all Dean needed, his jaw locks and he gives a curt nod. “Bye, Cas.”
Castiel watches as Dean turns his back and walks away. With every step Castiel’s grace screams at his rib cage, ripping him from the inside out. He falls to his knees, his legs burying themselves in the mud as he holds his head and weeps.
His wings flare out, glossy and clean (thanks to Dean) and wrap themselves around Castiel’s shaking body. As the shadow from his raven wings surround him he realizes that he has to sleep in a Dean-less bed. Castiel crumbles into a heap, his tears staining his face and his sobs silenced by a think layer of feathers.
———
Dean stayed at Benny’s that night, resting on the sleeping bag in the corner, he allowed himself to get piss drunk with his best friend. Benny listened to Dean’s cursing and his name calling and his pining after Castiel the whole night.
The thing Dean liked the most about Benny was he never needed to give advice, he just sat there, listened, and commented on some things. Of course he could only take so much, so when Dean actually did get to the pining about Castiel all Benny did was drink another bottle of moonshine.
“Dean,” He growled after taking his final chug. “I love ya brother but I do not want to know about your sex life with Cas.” For the rest of the night Dean and Benny laugh, they laugh loud and long into the night. It wasn’t until they’re about to fall asleep when Benny gives the final comment of the night.
“Brother, ya up?”
“… Yep.”
“I just want to tell you… what you and Cas have? It’s not worth this bulllshit, if what you said about the wings is true, this isn’t a fight that’s going to last.”
“He killed my little brother Benny.”
“So? He’ll come back, this is Hell after all. But Cas doesn’t have to come back, he doesn’t have to do anything. He chose to love you and you him, just remember that.”
Dean was just happy that he was too drunk that night to smell the wrongness in the room, how it didn’t smell like Castiel’s incense, or their clothing or the pure smell that was Castiel. No, he missed it all in his drunken state, but when he slept? When he slept all he could feel was the absence of wings and warmth that came with Castiel. Dean’s dreams were just his bed, his empty bed with cold sheets and a black surrounding.
Lucifer had just gotten Balthazar and Crowley out of his office when John Winchester starts on his way in. As he nears Lucifer’s office Lucifer pulls out another glass, filling it with his always-beloved whiskey because the Devil isn’t a cheap man, no matter what anyone says.
As he waited for the door to open Lucifer propped his feet on the desk, watching as the confused man stumbles in. While Lucifer knows every attendee, while he knows where and what they’re doing he doesn’t know what they look like, he never sees their souls or their actual bodies until they’re standing before him. John Winchester therefore is an interesting case. His soul, much like that of Dean’s, is covered in scars of self hate and loathing but beneath that it is filled with love and determination. It's very fascinating to see another Winchester, to be able to compare them.
"Who the hell are you?" John asks in an aggravated tone, obviously done with Lucifer's personal playground. Lucifer laughs at that, nodding his head towards the glass on the desk, "I'm what they would call the ringmaster." He watches with amusement as John walks closer, inspecting the glass as if it were a bomb. Eventually John picks it up, sniffing at it slightly, which made Lucifer smirk in amusement.
"Sit." Lucifer orders and John concedes, sitting in the same seat Dean had once sat in so many years ago. Things don’t change much, do they?
"Where’s my wife?" John speaks up, sending a judging look at Lucifer, as he should, because Lucifer isn’t exactly looking his best today. He had given up on covering his marks a long time ago, his skin showing the imperfections of his grace.
Placing his hands behind his head, Lucifer shrugs, “She’s not here.” John’s back straightens at that and he nods to himself, digesting this new information. “Where is she then?”
This is where they come to a crossroads. Lucifer is aware that two of the three attendees are ‘out of commission’ which means this is the last loose end. But Castiel had come in here less than two hours ago spewing hell fire onto Lucifer, demanding that he not only let John go, but that Lucifer cannot expect Dean to kill his own brother, the very one he had died for all those years ago.
Lucifer had given Castiel an ultimatum, either allow John to rot here for eternity and Sam would get to go to heaven without realizing his lesson or John would get a one-on-one with Lucifer himself and Sam would have to be killed by a carnie, any carnie. Castiel had chosen the latter, of course, it was the most fair. It affected all the Winchester’s equally, never damning one in particular. Castiel was in love with Dean and therefore wanted to make him happy, and what was better than saving his family from the very hell he had so willingly thrown himself into?
Like Dean, John didn’t like long unanswered pauses, “I swear to God if you did something to-“
Lucifer’s legs fell off the table and his hand came crashing down onto the hard surface, his other hand pointing directly at John. “Watch your tongue!” He growled, silencing John. “I am not in the business of murdering the innocent, that’s God’s jurisdiction.” His voice is level but stern enough to keep John quiet, “I deal only in the guilty.”
Gaze pointed at John, he leaned back into his chair. When John spoke next his voice was quieter, filled with a hidden emotion. “What happened to her?”
Of course he would ask that, “Don’t you remember John?” Lucifer inquired, voice nearly teasing, “How rainy that night was when she stormed out of the house?” Lucifer stopped his explanation, observing him as John remembered.
He had followed Mary out in his car, and because of this he watched from a front row seat as her small rabbit was plowed into a tree by an eighteen wheeler. John had desperately tore at the mess of metal around his wife as both Mary’s car and the eighteen wheel started to leak gasoline. Lucifer watched as John remembered the explosion, as he remembered fire engulfing the entire scene, killing all three witnesses and destroying a good amount of land.
Two of the three participants had gone to Heaven, and one was stuck here.
Silence filled the room as John bowed his head and held it in his hands, quietly mourning his mistakes. He looked so defeated and his soul shone in guilt, a sign that Lucifer would normally relish in. But now? Now that he felt Sam’s soul leave the body, as he felt the pure emotional destruction both Castiel and Dean were facing he felt wrong in condemning another soul. Another Winchester. John’s voice came in low now, distracting Lucifer from his current thoughts. “Is she happy there..?”
This threw Lucifer through a loop. It seemed like every Winchester he had run into wasn’t mindful of themselves but only thought of those they loved. And so, despite the biblical accusations, Lucifer told the truth: “Heaven is doing her well, but it is apparent that you are missed. Though I do not have many details on that situation.”
Perhaps it was not the exact truth, as Lucifer couldn’t feel the souls up in Heaven. He had been cut out of there a long time ago and the feelings he is pronouncing are only those he could imagine Dean or Castiel would feel if they were separated. Jealously soared inside of Lucifer, Dean and Castiel, Mary and John, even his other carnies Meg and Balthazar were getting a little close for comfort. Lucifer never knew that love, he knew sibling affection in a twisted, cast-you-down-from-heaven sort of way but this love? This cross-existence emotion? He knew nothing.
Making a sick sound Lucifer looks up towards John who is still holding his head in his hands. “Alright.” John whispers hoarsely, looking up from his hands. “So long as she is ok, that’s all that matters.” That was the turning point, it seemed that John had completely ignored his own importance and opted to only care about his wife.
"Damn." Lucifer starts, really not backing up his statement with feeling but rather playing the part. "Well, it was nice to have you here." He stands up at this, moving around the desk and initiating John to stand up as well.
"What do you mean?" John asks, looking down at Lucifer. It’s funny, there is barely anyone that is taller than Lucifer, but once again it seems as if the Winchesters are unnaturally tall, even Dean is the same height as the devil himself. Lucifer clears his throat and sticks out a hand towards John, “You get to go John. I hope you find everything you’re looking for."
John hardly smiles but shakes Lucifer’s hand nonetheless. “Thank you.” With that he takes a step towards the door and pauses, glancing back, “What about my boys? Are they happy?”
Lucifer stays silent, instead staring with cool emotionless eyes until John realizes he’s not going to get an answer. He turns and walks into the light, disappearing from Lucifer’s sight and Hell’s reach. Turning back around, Lucifer goes to the door of his personal sleeping quarters. He has to get ready for his first performance in thousands of years, and he wants to look good.
The farther John walked into the carnival the more he was sure Mary wasn’t there, she never would have gone to a place like this. It was too sinful, too disturbed. With that in his mind John set course to find her somewhere, anywhere else.
Walking through the carnival he passed several people, a man with a lizard face, another with a red clown nose who carried something just out of view. One more passed who was playing with a rat. All these people were carnies, it was obvious by the ease they carried themselves and they all disgusted John. He was just sick of this place with its bizarre rules and even stranger people.
John’s determination is what brought him to the end of the carnival, he’s not even sure how he got there, but he found himself very alone. Before him stood a door with various exit signs in a multitude of fonts and sizes. Blocking the way, however, was a set of velvet roped stanchion.
Fed up with it all, John unclipped the golden clasp and brushes his way through, having every intention to leave, but the moment he steps forward he hears the sound of glass breaking. Turning to look behind him he sees the man from the very start, brandishing a mace with a grave expression on his face. Beside him is the Ticket Keeper, looking equally grave but not as murderous.
It’s the Ticket Keeper that speaks first, his voice as dark as his expression, “No cutting line sir, it’s a rule.”
Finally, John’s had it, even with the bigger man threatening him with the mace, “I have to find my wife and I know you people won’t help me!”
The threatening man takes a step towards him but the Ticket Keeper holds up a hand to stop them. Shaking his head Ticket Keeper turns his attention back towards John and after some deliberation he speaks up. “Sometimes, to recover something that is lost, one has to simply retrace their steps.”
With that, he motioned toward the exit, a small sympathetic smile touching his lips. John pauses, giving him an appreciative nod and he turns his back on them.
As John ventures beyond the curtain, the Ticket Keeper turns towards the Tamer. He knows that this wasn’t the best idea he’s had but sometimes you have to give the Devil his due.
Dean didn’t even notice, that was the worst part for Castiel. He was too excited to show off to his little brother to catch Castiel taking the switch blade out of his back pocket.
As Sam and Dean set up, joking all the while, Castiel stood on the sidelines near Sam. Shrugging off his jacket, he watched as Dean did his routine, knife next to stomach, knife between legs, knife towards head. The whole while he and his brother laughed, unaware of the deal Castiel had made.
“See Sammy? I’m the best knife thrower here,” Dean jokes, twirling the last knife in his fingers with a cocky smile on his face, “none of these sons of bitches bother me when I got my knives."
"Shut up, Sammy." Dean grins throwing the last knife towards the right side of Sam’s face and missing him like Dean knew he would.
Sam’s face fell for a second but the moment he realized it missed, he burst out laughing.
Both brothers were so involved in their merriment they paid no mind to Castiel, who moved toward Sam. They didn’t hear the silent /’swick’/ of the knife snapping open. They didn’t notice until Castiel was looking up at Sam with the most pained expression splayed on his features.
It was Dean who spoke first. “Cas, what’re you doing?” He asked, his voice sobering quickly.
Castiel ignored him and looked up into the innocent eyes of Sam, he looked like a little boy, like someone who’s best friend just stole his favorite action figure. “…I’m so sorry Sam…” He whispered as he slipped the short blade deep into Sam’s chest.
Dean’s screams of protest filled the air as Sam’s last breath rattled from his lungs.
It doesn’t take long for Sam to hear something that leads him towards Dean. He can hear mumbled talking at first but the closer he listens as it grows more heated, hearing Dean’s voice in the mix.
"God dammit we can fix it!"
That doesn’t sound good, Sam knows his brother and the way his voice sounds isn’t good. He sounds stressed and above it all, worried. Sam hears another voice, deeper with emotion but he can’t really place it and he doesn’t have to because as he gets closer he hears Dean’s voice explode.
"Why the fuck not?!"
Sam than makes an executive decision and looks around for a seat. He sits down at one of the stools of a closed games booth, just out of ear shot.
Whomever Dean is fighting with is important, or it’s about something important, because he never sounds like this. Dean hasn’t sounded this heartbroken since Sam had told him he wanted to go to a college half the country away. A month after that Dean had been shot...
That wasn’t a good place for Sam to go and he knew it so instead he was content to just look around. The part of the carnival they lived in was towards the rear, where the tents are closer, the alleyways between the sectioned areas, slim and only meant for those who know what they’re doing. Even the game booth Sam’s at right has obviously been out of commission for a while, an old relic incapable of being removed. He observes the cracked leather of the stool and runs a finger over the broken seams.
Drowning out the yelling in the tent, Sam focuses on the carnival itself. Interesting, that out of all the things the Devil could have picked he made Hell into carnival. If Sam was a braver man he might have asked the Devil exactly why he chose this. Was it because carnivals took in those who were unwanted? Those who were of lower morality? But Sam thinks on this and knows that’s just a stereotype and feels a bit insulted for the Devil. Sam smirks, feeling bad for stereotyping the Devil, now that was a new one.
But this thought brought him to another idea entirely, what was the Devil like? Dean himself had stated the Devil wasn’t all that bad. Of course it could just be the fact that Dean had spent enough time down here that his perception had been warped but… that wasn’t like Dean. So it brought up the question of what exactly had the Devil done to make Dean respect him?
His mind whirring, Sam almost missed the silence that had replaced the conversation in the tent a couple yards away. Sam’s head snapped up at this time, he hoped Dean hadn’t left the tent and went looking for him because he had moved. Or what if Dean was running away from Sam now and he had left the tent and the area all together? It would take forever to find him in this place, the winding carnival alleys going on forever.
Standing up, he made his way towards the tent, and hearing nothing from within the thin canvas Sam pulled the flap away and walked in, careful of where he was stepping.
In all honesty Sam expected one of two things when he walked in there, either Dean was gone or he was sitting and moping. What he wasn’t expecting was to see his brother locking lips with a man with dark hair, a cracked face and a dirty trench coat. He was shocked, completely and totally shocked, because first of all Dean was making out with another man and well… this man had to be Cas, the one that had stolen his brother’s heart. But it just didn’t match up, Sam was the bisexual one in the family. Dean had no problem back in the day when they were both living, but he had said once he couldn’t imagine kissing a man ever. He had said that and then gone to a bar and gotten piss drunk, stumbling back home at two in the morning. Come to think of it, Dean had seemed pretty off that day, but Sam had just thought it had to do with the fact he had still been getting over Lisa at the time.
Sam clears his throat, the two kissing seeming not to hear him, touching and kissing in almost pornographic ways and he really didn’t need to see this. “Uh… Dean?” He finally speaks up, causing Dean to almost get whiplash as he whipped his head around.
Sam has never, ever seen his brother turn so red so quickly. He should see if he could try as find a small trophy to give to Dean because it’s hilarious. Turning his attention towards the man with the dark hair and cracked skin, he was handsome, he’d give Dean kudos for good taste but he looked a little too serious. The only emotion that showed was the tips of his ears were a light pink, expressing some sort of embarrassment at being caught making out with his… boyfriend? Was Dean his boyfriend?
Turning his attention back to Dean, Sam grinned largely, getting ready to tease his brother, “Is this your boyfriend Dean?”
To his credit Dean didn’t deny it, he just nodded, “Yeah, something like that.” He cleared his throat and looked up at the man next to him and Sam has to admit they’re kinda cute and he could see the way they gravitate towards each other, the way they gently brush each other without realizing it. Dean moves forward with the man by his side the whole time. “Sam, this is Castiel, my partner. Cas, this is my little brother Sammy.”
Of course Dean would introduce Sam as Sammy, he’d never escape that nickname, not even if he was 90, which he supposes can never happen now. Sam smiles though, and extends a hand, “It’s nice to meet you.” He greets kindly as Castiel takes his hand and firmly shakes it.
"It’s a pleasure to finally meet the all too famous Sam Winchester." He states coolly, his voice rougher than he expected for a man who was about five inches shorter than Sam himself.
He could see Dean watching the both of them carefully, his fingers playing with a lighter as if in a nervous habit and Sam separated himself from Castiel, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.
Looking around the tent, Sam notices the apparent main attraction, “What’s that?” He questions with a nod towards the wheel in the middle of the room.
Dean chuckles, a cocky smile forming on his lips as he pulls a dagger out of his holster. Without looking back be manages to throw it into the dead center of the smallest painted circle with incredible skill. “It’s my act.” He grins, “You want to see?”
Sam laughs at that, his brother was so excited and proud of himself he couldn’t help but say yes.
As he climbed up onto the wheel and was strapped in he failed to notice the look on Castiel’s face, if he had maybe things would have been different.
