To celebrate the completion of my Bingo card I rewrote my first Bingo Square and commissioned the incredible @purgatory-jar to draw the final scene! I’m absolutely thrilled with how it turned out!
(I had to crop it to post on tumblr, but you can see the full NSFW image on AO3!)
Title: Dress for Success
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444402/chapters/50431292
Square: Clothing Sharing
Ship: Destiel
Tags: Smut, Humor, Top/Bottom switching, Clothing sharing, Sam is so done
Word Count: 1946
art by @purgatory-jar
Dress For Success
Sam knew Dean and Castiel were fucking. They never told him, per se, but Sam knew. And it wasn’t because of any brotherly bond crap -- It was because of clothing. Or rather, a lack of it.
It all started with Castiel.
Sam was used to Castiel doing weird things in the bunker. Said things included, but were not limited to, making pb and j’s (and not eating them), reading books backwards, filling the coffee pot with honey, opening every single drawer in the bunker, and, of course, walking around at night completely naked. The first time Sam saw this, he slopped tea all over his nightshirt. He took a steadying breath and politely informed Castiel that humans do not do that.
So when Castiel started acting jumpy and suspicious, especially first thing in the morning when he and Sam were alone, Sam barely paid any notice. It was just Castiel.
But then there was Dean.
Dean was the one who made Sam think it was all in his head. Dean always acted completely normal, chalking up the noises Sam heard late at night to Busty Asian Beauties and other nighttime adventures that Sam did not want to hear about. Dean almost convinced him that nothing was going on, until one night Dean did something Sam simply couldn’t ignore.
Sam was bringing some dishes back to the kitchen and found Dean standing in front of the refrigerator drinking orange juice from the carton, butt naked. Sam shouted in surprise.
“What the hell, Dean?” Sam gawked at him.
Dean paused, looked down, then shrugged and kept drinking.
“You can’t… just. Oh god.”
“God has left the building, Sammy.”
“I can see that.” Sam skirted around Dean like he was contagious and dropped his dishes in the sink.
“The human body is nothing to be ashamed of, Sam. It’s a thing of beauty,” Dean said. “Don’t censor me.”
“I’m not, I…!” Sam blinked furiously, determinedly looking Dean in the eye. “I’m going to bed.”
“Fine,” Dean replied casually. “Goodnight.”
Before Sam could leave the kitchen, he bumped into Castiel in the doorway. Castiel at least was clothed, but they weren't his clothes. He was wearing an old AC/DC shirt and stained jeans.
Sam and Dean both stared at him. Seeing Castiel in those kind of clothes was just as jarring as walking in on someone naked.
“Hello, Sam,” Castiel said. When he looked to Dean, his eyes fell straight down. “Dean,” he greeted him, his voice cracking.
Dean barely noticed. He was in a daze. He’d never seen Castiel wearing clothes like that -- His clothes.
“Cas that’s...” Sam said awkwardly. “That’s not really what I meant, about the clothes...”
Castiel and Dean both ignored him.
Sam took a sharp breath, looking between them. “Mhm. Uh, hm.” His expression fell. Finally he found his voice and said, “Nope, not touching this. Goodnight.” He strode past Castiel and disappeared down the hall.
Dean cleared his throat, making Castiel finally look up.
“You should wear my stuff more often," Dean said slowly. “Like, seriously. That’s... fucking hot.”
Castiel squinted at him.
Dean winked and put the orange juice down. There was something fiery in his gaze that made Castiel’s brain go fuzzy. Castiel approached him, trying hard to keep his eyes from drifting downwards, but Dean wasn't embarrassed. He pulled Castiel close. Castiel could smell the citrus on his tongue and feel his nude body against his...
“Okay! New rule.” Sam reappeared in the doorway.
Castiel backed away. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Clothes. You have to wear clothes. Both of you. All the time! I don’t care what you do behind closed doors but...” Sam sighed exasperatedly. “In the kitchen? C’mon.” He huffed, then left without another word.
Dean winked at Castiel.
Sam’s knowledge of their relationship didn’t hinder Dean or Castiel at all. In fact, after that night -- a very long night in which neither Winchester got much sleep -- Dean and Castiel stopped hiding their relationship altogether.
Castiel seemed to sense that wearing Dean’s clothes was one of those ‘kinks’ Dean never clearly expressed but obviously enjoyed, so he started wearing his shirts under his suits.
During one particularly messy werewolf hunt, Castiel got injured and tore his suit. While Dean was fixing him up, he noticed his old Metallica shirt peeking out from beneath Castiel’s ripped button up. Dean stopped what he was doing and stared at Castiel.
They were in a dilapidated cabin deep in the woods. Sam was out securing the perimeter. Castiel’s chest was heaving from the fight. He was flushed and his hair was a mess, and that old, paper thin Metallica shirt was dampened with Castiel's sweat. Dean didn’t stand a chance.
As soon as Castiel was bandaged and Dean's work was done, Dean pushed him onto the floor.
Within seconds Castiel’s suit things were scattered around them and Castiel had been stripped to that Metallica shirt with his dress pants and underwear around his knees. Dean's hands were all over Castiel as he fucked him on the cabin floor.
It took practice to get good at fucking Castiel. Fortunately, Dean had had a lot of practice. He knew exactly how fast and how hard to thrust to get Castiel to start panting. He knew the perfect spot to make Castiel shudder and gasp. Once Castiel started moaning Dean’s name and arching his back, Dean knew he was close. He reared up and took full control, working his hips like a porn star. Castiel's cock was leaking onto the Metallica shirt as he writhed in ecstasy.
Half a mile away, Sam heard Castiel shouting. He sprinted back to the cabin at top speed, his hunter instincts on high alert.
Inside the cabin, Castiel came with a heartfelt groan. The sound was so human that it nearly tipped Dean over the edge. He was so close, just another few thrusts… then a series of sounds ripped Dean out of his ecstatic haze. He heard the door slam open, the cocking of a shotgun, and then Sam sputtering in disbelief.
“Really? Goddamnit, Dean!” Sam exclaimed.
Dean attempted to cover himself with the trench coat and failed. Cas made no effort to help.
“Five minutes, Sam, please,” Dean muttered.
“Unbelievable.” Sam walked away. “I’m going to go burn my eyes out with holy fire,” he shouted back at them.
“Sam, no,” Castiel said breathlessly.
“He’s kidding,” Dean said, resuming his thrusts at once.
Castiel groaned and dropped his head on the floor.
“No, I’m not!” Sam shouted.
“Shut the door!” Dean yelled back. “Pervert!”
There was a flustered, indignant noise as Sam slammed the door shut.
“Great plan, Dean,” Sam muttered to himself, taking a seat outside the cabin with his shotgun. “If another werewolf comes I’ll just tell them to form a queue. ‘Your murder is very important to us’.” Sam huffed. “Once my brother’s done getting ass we’ll be right with you.”
Dean and Castiel rejoined Sam outside ten minutes later. Castiel looked awkward and embarrassed, but Dean was unabashedly in high spirits.
"Alright! Let's kill some werewolves!" Dean slapped Sam jovially on the back.
The next few hours were spent hunting down the rest of the werewolf pack. By the time they were done every last werewolf had been exterminated, and even Sam had to admit that Dean and Castiel were in rare form. Sam couldn't remember the last time a hunt had gone so well, so he decided to give them a break and stop complaining. He also decided to start entering rooms with a hand over his eyes.
When they returned to the bunker Dean went to his room to get cleaned up and Sam started the laundry. He was able to get all of the blood stains out of Castiel’s suit, plus a stain Sam refused to let Castiel explain.
They hadn’t been able to find his trenchcoat, so Castiel went looking for it. It was strange, Castiel knew he was wearing it when they got back to the bunker. He went into Dean's room and found it -- on Dean.
Dean was sprawled out on his bed, wearing nothing but that trenchcoat.
“Hey,” Dean greeted him. “Were you… looking for something?” He feigned looking around.
A smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. He took his tie off and joined Dean on the bed.
Dean was pleased to see Castiel’s eyes darken as he took in the sight before him. Castiel smoothed his hands up Dean’s body, from his thighs to his shoulders, tracing every line and muscle framed so perfectly by that open coat. His coat.
“That’s...” Castiel rasped. “That’s not how you’re supposed to wear it.”
Dean smiled, shivering pleasantly. “I don't hear you complaining.” He could already feel Castiel’s growing erection pressing into his leg.
Castiel couldn’t deny that. They seemed to come to a silent agreement and Castiel began stripping. Dean watched him, idly stroking himself, something he knew drove Castiel wild. Sure enough, Castiel kept getting distracted while trying to get undressed.
Once Castiel was naked he settled between Dean’s legs, captured Dean’s hands, and pinned them above his head. Dean felt a jolt of arousal. He loved it when Castiel got like this.
Dean spread his legs and let Castiel fuck him right there in that trench coat. Castiel was normally all instinct and passion when he topped, but tonight was different. Tonight he wanted to claim Dean. He wanted to mark him on the inside just as his trenchcoat marked him on the outside. He took his time, unraveling Dean piece by piece until Dean was beside himself with pleasure and groaning Castiel's name.
“Dean...” Castiel growled, “I think I understand now.”
“Do you?” Dean said. It took all his strength to speak with Castiel fucking the breath out of him.
Castiel nodded, his pupils blown and his lips parted. “It’s… ‘fucking hot’,” he rasped. He lowered his hips and angled a thrust into Dean’s prostate felt a rush of satisfaction as Dean’s witty retort fell apart on his lips.
Dean didn’t bottom often, but when he did it reminded him just how awesome it was sleeping with an angel. Castiel was a force of nature, raw and powerful, ravaging Dean over and over again and hitting pleasure spots Dean didn't even know he had. Dean was in heaven. Castiel wove their fingers together above Dean’s head and kissed him deeply.
Across the hall, Sam put on rain sounds to fall asleep. Dean had let him borrow his noise cancelling headphones earlier, something Sam tried not to think about as he drifted off.
In the morning, Sam was surprised to find Dean awake first. He was sipping coffee and sitting funny at the Men of Letters' table, looking oddly at peace with the world. Sam poured himself a cup and joined Dean in silence.
“So...” Sam spoke up.
Dean glanced at him.
“How was your night?”
“Shut up.”
Sam smiled. "You realize that you’re… um... You and Cas... What did they call it?”
Dean was barely awake, but he realized where Sam was going. “Don’t say it.”
“’Destiel’?”
Dean stared at Sam. Sam was trying, and failing, to hold back a grin. Finally, Dean cracked a smile. “Yeah. I know.”
They shared a mutual silence, both of them smiling to themselves.
“We should make bumper stickers.”
“No," Dean said firmly.
Sam sipped his coffee. He didn't say another word. Truthfully, he was happy for his brother.
Castiel came in wearing a pair of Dean's pajamas and looking extremely well rested. Dean smiled warmly at him. Sam looked away, but he was smiling, too. Maybe, just maybe, the clothing thing was kind of cute.
I know it’s been my header image for a while, but I wanted to share this amazing piece @purgatory-jar did for my fic Best In Show! Destiel and dogs - two of my favourites!
Link to completed fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276327
