log: dean+lustiel WHO: Dean Winchester and "Castiel" WHEN: After this log with Crowley and this conversation with Gabriel, in the middle of the night WHERE: Dean and Castiel's room WHAT: Lucifer can't keep pretending that he's Castiel anymore, not when Dean is getting up close and personal with him. WARNINGS: SPN Season 11 spoilers, threats of violence, sexual overtones, the usual when it comes to SPN!Lucifer
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Castiel was screaming.
Lucifer could feel him inside, sharing space with him in Jimmy Novak's body. He was a restless ball of metaphysical energy, throwing himself against his restraints. One of these days, he'd have to remind the Little Angel That Could that he'd consented to this, that he'd allowed this. Things hadn't gone according to plan, but then again, who could predict anything these days?
No take-backsies.
He returned to the Winchester residence significantly later than Dean probably expected, after meeting with Crowley. His little doggie was being a good boy, feeding him the information he needed in order to get by in this strange place. Without the Darkness to fight, Lucifer's plans were turned upside down — and it meant he could relax. It meant he could enjoy himself. It meant he could play.
He found Dean in his room, sleeping off the party from earlier. Poor, poor little Winchester. He sank down on the edge of the bed, pressed his hand to Dean's shoulder, and settled into the rigid, hangdog physicality that Castiel was known for.
"Dean."
Dean had given up on getting "Cas" to come back after failing to talk him out of confronting Crowley (again). If that was what Cas wanted to do, Dean wasn't his babysitter, so he went out for a drink instead and wandered back when he'd had enough of the noise. He waited up a little longer, but he ultimately just crawled into bed, falling asleep on his stomach.
He woke easily because he slept lightly, raising his head as soon as he was touched. "Hey. There you are."
Lucifer had to ignore Castiel scratching at his mind. "Sorry I wasn't here," he said, in Castiel's gruff tones. Castiel always sounded so sad, didn't he?
"You get what you wanted out of Crowley?" Dean sat up, scratching a hand through his hair.
"I did," said Lucifer. "You were right, though. I probably shouldn't have talked to him."
"He's a waste of time. You know that." Dean sighed. "Scared the shit out of me with all those people disappearing today. You really gotta learn a sense of timing."
"I'm sorry." Lucifer frowned. "I thought you were asleep. I didn't mean to scare you." The idea that Dean and Castiel were lovers was new to him, but it wasn't a surprise. Castiel's entire world was wrapped up in Dean Winchester, and had been ever since he'd plucked Dean out of Hell to be Michael's vessel.
"Yeah, well… just don't disappear," Dean said lamely.
Lucifer smiled faintly. "Look at me."
Dean glanced up. "Hm?"
"See? Still here." Lucifer spread his hands, gesturing vaguely at himself. He was still in pajama pants and one of Dean's shirts, but he'd thrown on Castiel's coat. His feet were bare, despite the fact that he'd been out in the cold.
What Lucifer hadn't picked up was about the coat. In some recesses of Castiel's memory, there was one about getting it back, having it pulled out of the Impala's trunk where it had been safely kept since his apparent death, waiting for him for almost a year. It must have been drowned out for him not to realize that it was like Castiel's armor, even here, significant and meaningful.
And, you know, in the context of his current situation with Dean, hot.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, reaching over to fondly slide his hand over the coat's lapel. "You are."
Lucifer's eyes flickered down to Dean's hand. "Yeah. I'm … still here," he said, clearing his throat.
"C'mere." Dean pulled him in for a solid, familiar kiss, blithely unaware of… everything.
For a moment, Lucifer simply froze. Gabriel had said that he had the perfect opportunity to have Dean if he wanted. He could keep playing this game, he could have Dean Winchester naked and vulnerable and then break him — but some people had problems with that kind of thing, and Crowley's advice was that playing to the crowd was the best method of survival.
Either way, the choice was made for him when he started to laugh.
He couldn't help it. The idea of Dean Winchester touching him and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, blissfully ignorant to the reality of the situation, it was funny.
He let Dean kiss him, he tried to hold it in, but it was the moment when he felt Dean's tongue against his mouth that he had to turn away because he was too busy chuckling.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I can't do this. Wow."
In what must have been his most dignified moment, Dean froze in confusion. "What?"
"Really?" Lucifer stared at him. "Come on. I'd love to, but you and me, we just don't have that connection. I've had a lot of surprises today, but I've learned way too much about your sex life in the last few hours."
When it hit him that this was not Castiel, Dean practically jumped out of bed, grabbing the gun he kept under his pillow on the way. He ended up standing in the wreckage of The Creation of Adam, an edge piece digging into the heel of his foot, gun trained at Lucifer's chest.
"Crowley?"
Lucifer raised his eyebrows and stood up from the bed, hands up in surrender. "Oh, no, don't shoot!" he exclaimed, but he couldn't sound scared long enough. He chuckled instead. "Oh, man, the look on your face … I knew it was gonna be good, I really did, but I didn't think it was gonna be that good."
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus—"
Lucifer snorted, folding his arms. "No, dumbass. That's not even going to tickle."
"So help me, I will shoot you if you don't get out of him," Dean spat, taking half a step forward.
"Go ahead, Deano, bring it on." Lucifer opened up the coat to expose his chest. "Aim right here. Or better yet, right between the eyes. Lemme guess, you etched devil's traps into the bullets, didn't you. Those would really piss off Crowley, wouldn't they."
Dean looked away just long enough to glance up at the ceiling. The Devil's trap just above the door was untouched. "So fine, you're not Crowley. Are you Gabriel? Playing some sick joke? What did you say to get Cas to let you in?"
"Strike two." Lucifer grinned. "Come on, really? And here I thought I was so memorable. I'm hurt, Dean, really. I know this isn't my favorite outfit to wear, but try to look past that and see my inner beauty."
It took a second, then two, until he realized it. All the shit with the Mark of Cain, wasn't it inevitable that this would be something that would happen?
"Lucifer." Dean's voice was heavy with disbelief. "Why?"
Lucifer's smile softened. "Hey there."
"How the hell did you get out of that Cage?" Dean kept the gun up, even knowing it wouldn't help.
"You offered," said Lucifer, frowning. He folded his arms across the chest. Even though he was in Castiel's body, he was easily recognizable as someone else. He hardly seemed like Castiel at all. "Sam comes to me, asks for my help, and then you get him to back out. Castiel was the only one who was nice enough to follow through."
"The Darkness. Christ…" Dean was missing time, clearly. This was beyond him. They had fucked up, Dean had fucked up, and Cas was going to be the one paying the price, wasn't he. "Well, the fucking Darkness isn't here. You don't need Cas while you're here."
Lucifer shrugged. "No, I don't," he said. "I didn't ask to end up here, but here I am, and now we're just going to play with the hand we're dealt."
"No," Dean insisted. "No, we don't. And he—" He swallowed hard while he forced himself to think. "You're gonna burn out of him. He's not built to hold onto an archangel. I am. You want a body, take mine."
"You think I'll kill him?" Lucifer clicked his tongue in sympathy. "Burn this body up from the inside, take what's left of Castiel with me?"
He moved toward Dean, indifferent to the weapon he held. "So you want me to take you, instead. You wouldn't let Michael have you, but you're consenting to me."
Reluctantly, Dean lowered the gun and switched the safety back on, leaving his body language open. "Better late than never, right? You know he'll fall apart, and then you're stuck looking for someone new. Sam won't say yes again. Other people here won't understand, they won't say yes. I'm saving you the trouble, right now."
Lucifer inhaled slowly, reaching out to brush the backs of his fingers against Dean's cheek and down his throat. He stepped in closer, until they were just a breath apart, and Lucifer was almost kissing his ear when he said, "Say it again."
Teeth grinding, Dean straightened out his spine, defensively stiff when he could feel Lucifer's breath on his skin. He was impulsive, but earnest. Walking barefoot into Hell for Sam or Cas was a given, but that didn't mean the idea didn't hurt. Changing into a demon had burned; this was going to be worse.
"Yes," Dean repeated, his voice rough. "You have my consent to possess me."
Lucifer hummed softly, pressing his hand against Dean's chest. For a few tense moments, it seemed as if he'd give up Castiel and push himself into Dean — but instead, he just patted Dean on the shoulder.
"No."
Dean frowned and shoved Lucifer's hand away from his shoulder. "The fuck do you mean, no?"