Fic: In My Room 1/1 Supernatural
Title: In My Room. Author: Lopaka Tanu i_want_2 Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Pairing: Dean/Castiel Rating: Adult Warnings: Sexual Situations, Language, Angelic Perversion, Mentioned Character Death. Fandom: Supernatural Spoilers: Season 4 Finale. Word Count: 4154 Notes/Prompt(s): 1. Cas spoons Dean while brooding over forbidden feelings. Summary: Late at night the world changes. Dean isn't as alone as he thinks.
It was getting early. He knew because it was way past late. Turning the channel just so he could see what time it was, Dean sighed quietly.
Sam had left seven hours ago. If the past week was anything to go by, he would be back some time before sun up. This wasn't much of a change from the last year.
He hadn't known what exactly he was expecting. Things weren't supposed to be like they were before. That much he had been sure of. Dean knew what he had hoped for after the church.
Either way, he had been wrong.
Turning off the tv, Dean rolled on to his side. There was no use to waiting up. Sam wouldn't come back while he was awake. It was almost like the other man had a sixth sense about that.
Staring at the broken clock on the nightstand, Dean tried to come up with a reason for why he was awake. Insomnia had never bothered him before they freed Lucifer. Well, that wasn't true.
Sam had been the asshole who freed the Prince of Darkness. Dean frowned. Was it Lucifer or Dracula who was known as the Prince of Darkness? That didn't matter. The guy was free and wondering the Earth once more did.
Seven days since the ant hill had been kicked over and nothing had changed. This time he knew what everyone had expected. It surely wasn't the fact for nothing to happen. The end of the world had a script to follow. Something got seriously fucked up along the way and now no one knew where to go.
Well, that wasn't true either. Dean knew where the Angels could go. Them and everyone else for that matter.
He knew it was cliched and immature, but he wanted to scream that it wasn't fair. There had been promises made a long time ago. The stories, the teachings, everything had been set in stone. Was it too much to ask for that one thing turn out like it was supposed to?
Dean didn't know who he was asking. Was he praying to someone out there or was he making one of those hypothetical questions Sam was so fond of? Did it fucking matter? No, it god damned did not!
There, question asked and answered.
May be he was God and everyone else was just...what? Thinking about it made his head hurt.
Rolling over, Dean buried his cheek in the scratchy motel pillow. Clenching his eyes shut didn't help matters much. At least he couldn't see the orange light coming from the parking lot this way.
~~~~~~~~~
Lights from a passing car flashed through the front window. The sound of its tires on the ground sounded distant through the thin walls. Darkness once more reigned in the room after it had gone.
For a while, only the sound of even breathing could be heard above the crickets outside. One bed remained empty. The other's occupant lay on his side, arm thrown out over the mattress.
Dean lay on his back. His soft snores were broken softly every so often by incoherent mumbling. During these fits his brow creased from fleeting emotions. Moaning, his body twitched before settling down.
Across the room, the television came on. The quiet hum of static filled the room.
Soft fingers stroked across Dean's sweat slicked brow. Their tender caress eased the worry lines from his face. His eyelids started to flicker until two fingers slid across his forehead. Once they pulled back he settled down to a deep sleep.
So fragile.
Straightening up, Castiel cocked his head so he could study the sleeping man. His face creased with lines as he frowned. Soft light came through the windows to highlight his features as a car passed.
Rolling his shoulders, he slipped out of his coat and tossed it on the spare bed. Slowly, he took hold of his suit jacket. He eased it off his shoulders and down his arms. Castiel took it in one hand and laid it over the coat. That done, he grabbed the tie. It soon joined the jacket and coat.
By the time he got the shirt unbuttoned and untucked his hair had fallen in his eyes. This he slid off faster than the other two items. He quickly tossed it on the coat.
Toeing off his shoes, he set them aside. He made sure to keep them mated so he could find them easier later. The belt was a little trickier but all he needed to do was unfasten it. He left it in the loops on his pants as he unbuttoned the slacks.
The zipper made a loud noise as he had to jerk to get it undone. After he checked to make sure it wasn't tore, he pushed the pants down to his knees. He was a little awkward taking them off, but Castiel managed without falling over even once. They joined the shirt, tie, and jacket on the bed.
Standing now in a tank top, boxers, and socks, he wiggled the vessel's toes. Castiel stared down at them for a moment in amazement. They simply were quite amazing to behold. So much cloth to cover them, he never understood why they chose to hide their beauty.
Thinking of beauty, he looked up to the bed.
Laying there where he had left him was Dean. The man had aged so much in the past year. He was no longer the precious one chosen for the cause. That did not matter to him, though.
Stepping up to the bed, Castiel took a breath to brace himself. He knew what the others would say to his actions. This was unbecoming an Angel of the Lord. Yet, this no longer held any sway with him. He was here for a personal reason.
As he leaned down he grasped the hem of Dean's blanket. Raising it up, he shifted so that he could put one leg in the bed. Castiel braced himself on the mattress and quietly slid in next to Dean.
The shock of warmth from the body next to him gave Castiel pause. In this time his bedmate rolled away from him on to his side. For several long breaths the Angel hesitated. Was it worth it?
Dean was a strong man. His body naturally gave off a lot of heat while he slept. In this heat radiated comfort.
Closing his eyes, Castiel gave himself permission to relax. He could lay there and luxuriate in it.
He tentatively reached out under the blankets. At first, he ghosted his fingers over the muscles of Dean's shoulder. This quickly escalated as he drew his hand down the man's chest. A light dusting of hair felt coarse against his palm and he shuddered.
Sliding in closer, he pressed his face against Dean's shoulder. His hand slid lower over Dean's body, tracing the curves of his muscles. Castiel could feel him respond by tensing against where he was touched. By the time his hand encountered the barrier of Dean's boxers he had settled completely against the human's back.
Then, he stopped. Closing his eyes, he let the covers settle around them. It was okay now. Everything would be all right for a little while.
~~~~~~~~~
Birds were singing. He hated when birds sang. They always sounded so cheerful.
Another reason he hated that sound was because it meant morning was here. He didn't want to have to get up, let alone be awake. There was no avoiding it though when the evidence was screaming at you from a million, tiny throats. One of these days he would find a way to kill them all.
In the mean time, though, he had to get up.
He opened one eye first, the one not buried in his pillow. That gave him the perfect position to see the other bed. What he saw relieved him of some anxiety.
Sam was fast asleep under the covers. The big dork was still in his clothes, though.
Sighing, Dean rolled away before he said or did something. It was way too early to be causing trouble. At least he had come back and that was the important part.
Despite his intention of getting up, Dean found himself laying in bed. He was reluctant to leave the blankets this morning. It wasn't cold in the motel room. There was just something about the smell and feel to them that left him feeling lazy this morning.
May be if he spent a little more time curled up around the other pillow, he figured, he would eventually work it out. Eventually.
A few moments later he was drifting off back to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~
"Where the hell do you think you're going now?" Arms folded, Dean leaned back against the bathroom door. He knew better than to expect a response. They never talked any more.
Grabbing his wallet off the nightstand, Sam checked the contents. He stuffed it in his back pocket when he was satisfied it was all there.
This caused Dean to roll his eyes. As if anyone would want to touch anything that permanently inhabited a place so close to the giant's ass. Hell, the waitresses who had to touch the money probably all died from something particularly nasty.
He wasn't sure why he tried any more. It wasn't like Sam even needed him. May be he should have taken Uriel's advice back when the Angel seemed like one of the good guys and just left. They said a clean break was always the easiest to mend.
Then again, those people were all fucking stupid!
After a quick once over the room, Sam grabbed the keys off the bedside table.
That pissed Dean off. Pushing off the wall, Dean stomped up to his brother. "Are you just going to ignore me? Real mature, Sammy."
Sam shivered, but otherwise didn't respond. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he walked to the door.
Dean followed him all the way. He quietly seethed with anger. There was no point in yelling. No matter how many times he tried Sam would just keep ignoring him.
The door slammed shut behind Sam. Good riddance!
~~~~~~~~~
The television was on but Dean wasn't paying attention. He had given up trying to find something to watch hours ago. His attention was on the one window. Standing by the blinds, he stared at the parking lot.
Where the Impala had been was still empty and it was going on midnight. There didn't seem to be a return any time soon either.
Letting the curtain fall back over the window, he walked away. He left the blinds open just in case the Impala pulled up. The lights would shine through and wake him up.
This was getting to be a disturbing habit. It was bad enough to be waiting up for him like some fretting mother hen. That he didn't know what even went on with his brother was worse. Considering Sam's idea of a fun time lately he had a right to be worried.
Turning to the bed, he dropped back against the pillows. He caused the mattress to bounce with him. Dean didn't care.
He picked up the newspaper he had stolen from the diner that morning. There was no interest in the stories, but he had to have something to distract him. His fingers automatically flipped to the comics section. If Garfield could deal with Mondays, so could he.
~~~~~~~~~~
The bedside clock read two a.m. when the television signal cut out. With the volume turned down low there was almost no noticeable change in sound. As for Dean, he didn't even so much as twitch.
At the foot of his bed, Castiel stood with his shoulders slumped. His head hung slightly forward as he studied the sleeping man.
Dean snorted in his sleep. Rolling on to his side, he dragged the covers higher up over his shoulder.
Leaning forward, Castiel traced his fingers up the outline of the man's body through the covers. He was careful not to press too hard as he ran them over strong calves. Tilting his head, he watched Dean's face for a reaction.
As if in response, Dean pressed his face deeper in the pillow.
Castiel moved around the bed,, dragging his fingers up Dean's body to rest upon his hip. He squeezed the flesh gently. This illicited a moan from the sleeping man.
Turning on to his back left Dean in the center of the bed. The hand on his hip slid along the front of his crotch from the move. A very prominent part of his anatomy now stood up proud under the attention.
Feeling this made the angel flush. A shudder ran through Castiel with the sound of feathers ruffling. His hand involuntarily flexed over the erection.
Dean gasped as his eyes started to flutter open.
Acting on instinct, Castiel reached out and touched two fingers to Dean's forehead.
While the man settled back deep in to sleep his body still reacted to the touch. His hips raised up against the grip around his cock.
Instead of letting go like he intended, Castiel realized that he was now holding a very firm erection. The breath froze in his chest as the world around him slowed to a stand-still. He wasn't releasing the man like he should. This was a very bad thing.
Well, only one of them seemed to think so.
Dean moaned. Thrusting his hips up again, he pushed his cock further in to the angel's hand. When the fingers tightened around the shaft he hissed.
It was a sin! Castiel pulled his hand back, dragging it up Dean's cock. His fingers curled around the head. Much to his horror he could feel the distinctive shape of the glans. Tracing his fingers over them he distantly heard a low groan of pleasure.
Closing his eyes, Castiel shoved his hand down hard. He gripped Dean's cock and began to pump the shaft. As Dean's hips rose up off the bed to meet his jerks he flushed with warm pleasure. Guilt made him bite his lower lip but he couldn't make himself stop.
Dean threw out a hand to grab on to something. Thrusting his hips up, he cried out with a strangled sob. The blankets covering his cock quickly soaked through with his cum.
Feeling the hot fluid shocked Castiel enough that he let go. He staggered backwards as Dean thrust up in to the covers, lost in the throes of his orgasm. He nearly lost his balance when the backs of his legs hit the spare bed.
Looking down at his palm, Castiel stared wide-eyed at the viscous white liquid coating it. It had a strong scent of Dean and musk. The smell was pure sin to him and he could not turn away. The temptation to taste of it was strong; taste it and corrupt himself. Yet, he found the strength to force his hand from his sight.
Wiping his palm off on the blankets behind him, Castiel realized he had to get out of there. He should never have come there in the first place!
The television flared before the local news came back on.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The sound of a horn honking made Dean jerk awake. Realizing that it was just a passing diesel, he glared at the blinds. He couldn't see it but that wasn't the point. This way he was doing something and it made him feel better.
Reaching up, he rubbed at his eyes to remove the crap stuck to them. His body felt a little stiff and his joints ached. He realized me must have tossed and turned in his sleep. That was going to kill him later if he didn't do some stretches soon.
He started to pull the covers off himself when he felt them stick a little around his crotch. It was then he realized that his boxers were a damp. This made him frown. Dean knew it had been a while since he last got laid, but a wet dream?
Scratching at his chest, he glanced over to the other bed. He wasn't alone any more. Much to his relief, though, the hulking dork was asleep.
Then like the scratch of a needle on a record he realized he had soaked boxers and he wasn't alone. That meant he had to be extra quiet or else risk embarrassment. Holding his breath, Dean reached for the edge of his blankets. Pulling them off himself he slid out from under them.
It was going to be a trick, but he would not be caught.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Staring up at the stars through the glass door, Dean watched the clouds slowly drift in front of the moon. The door meant this one was a step up from the usual crappy motels they stayed in. It even had a screen in the middle where they could raise the window and get some air.
Of course if he had had been driving, he wouldn't have chosen this place. It was way too expensive for his taste. But princess Sammy had to have her royal bath. The mighty spoiled one was now in there soaking it up with the soundtrack of some emo band.
At least he wasn't going out just yet. Thank heaven for small miracles. Dean was getting damn tired of spending the evenings alone. Even if tonight he was having to sit outside the bathroom while Sam primped, it was worth being around his brother.
Leaving the main door open, he walked over to the television and turned it on. The set was so old that it didn't even have a remote. He was surprised the thing even had color. What kind of TV didn't have a remote? Even the small kitchen models had remotes these days.
He flipped through the motel's dozen local channels before deciding on the news. It wasn't something he was interested in, but at least it gave the room atmosphere. He felt like he was in a mausoleum without it.
Room set, he walked over to his bed. Dean kicked off his shoes and dropped down on the mattress. The bed gave a slight creak which he barely heard thanks to the TV and Sam's whiny music. At least this one was slightly comfortable.
He yawned as he laid back on the bed. Scooting back in to the pillows, he used them to brace his upper body. By the time he was comfortable he was already drowsy. These long days of just driving around were wearing him out.
If something didn't happen to change things soon he was going to go crazy. Well, that or he was going to start shooting things until he felt better. The latter actually held some appeal to him. He knew of a couple places that could use a shoot'em up approach.
May be if he could actually get Sam to spend more than five minutes in the same room with him he would talk to him about it. Forget while they were driving. Sam was completely focused on the road and Dean liked it that way. There was no need to damage his baby from careless driving.
A quick glance to the clock on the wall revealed it was after nine o'clock. That meant Sam had been in the bathroom for almost a hour. May be the big dork was going to stay in tonight instead of go out carousing with his skank of the night.
Suddenly, the emo music shut off. Now that it was quiet in the bathroom, the noise of the tub draining became apparent. It was soon drowned out by something more gentler that had definitely not come from Sam's collection.
Dean recognized it, though. It was the Jessica: The Flambed Girlfriend Collection. Of course, he would never tell Sam what he called them. That could mean only one thing.
Sam was going to go out and get stinking, shit-faced drunk!
Rolling his eyes, Dean sighed. He grabbed the hem of his blanket and pulled it up. There was no point in trying to stay awake now.
~~~~~~~~~~
Tugging on his jacket, Sam checked his hair in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't like the style mattered. The move was just a habit he had yet to forget. Still, he made sure that every strand was in place. When he was certain they were immaculate, he turned off the light and walked back in to the motel room.
He glanced over at the television for a moment. There was no need to go out again. If he wanted, he could stay in and watch a movie. Realizing he was staring at the blank screen he shook his head and looked away.
The spartan motel room was too quiet. In that sense it was like everyone he had been to for the last week. Damn, it was depressing place.
Shaking his head, he walked over to the bedside table. He snatched up the keys and his wallet. After making sure he had enough cash to cover the oncoming bar tab, he stuffed the billfold in his back pocket. The keys felt cold in his hand as he headed for the door.
A cold chill ran down his spine when he reached out to touch the knob. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder at the spare bed. He sighed when he found nothing there.
Grabbing the main door, he gently shut it behind him. The glass door swung shut behind him as he headed for the Impala. It was going to be another long night.
~~~~~~~~~
Standing out the window, Dean watched Sam leave. The dick hadn't even said good bye yet again. One of these days he was going to start throwing shit at his head until he learned. What did it matter they weren't speaking to each other? Were common decency and manners lost when your brother became a big, emo douche?
He paused to think on that. It was a good question. May be 'Dear Abbey' or 'Anne Landers' would know. Or may be he should write 'Miss Manners'. That chick would know, she knew everything. She probably knew how long it was proper to stay after sex before picking up your underwear and leaving.
These were the kinds of things he thought about when he was left to his own devices. Dean realized he was not a well person and really deserved a vacation. He'd check in to that after Sam pulled his head out of his ass.
In the mean time, there were twelve whole channels he could be surfing. Walking over to the set, he began to flip through them.
~~~~~~~~~
The sound of beating wings preceded his arrival. Appearing in the motel room, Castiel saw his own reflection on the blank television screen. Even though the image was washy due to the light being from a street lamp, he knew that his vessel appeared pale and wane.
He dragged a hand across stubble covered cheeks. His features were sunken and dark rings lined his eyes. The coat he wore was frayed in several places, especially at the sleeves. Things weren't going well but none of that mattered.
Reaching in to his pocket, he was unable to stop his hand from shaking. Almost reluctantly he pulled out the bundle of cloth. With careful fingers he unfolded the torn strips to reveal the necklace.
This was what made it all worth it.
His fingers trembled as he grasped the leather cord. Pulling it from the cloth, he stuffed the material back in to his pocket. The necklace thrummed with energy in his hand.
Castiel glanced about the dark motel room. Seeing no one about he held the necklace with both hands. Closing his eyes, he slipped it over his head. The change was instantaneous.
White light filled the room from the television set. The static hissed quietly in the background. In a world tinged with a dark blue Castiel felt relieved. It settled over him like a warm blanket, soothing his nerves.
He had made it back.
A quick glance about located the sleeping figure in the spare bed. As he had been for every night since...Dean was curled up under the covers unaware of the world around him.
Castiel stood where he had entered the room for awhile, just watching. For a time he was real. They were really together here. The motel room was as it used to be.
It wouldn't last for long.
Walking to the bed, Castiel shed his coat. He tossed it haphazardly on the spare bed. This time he didn't bother removing his jacket. After toeing off his shoes, he sat down on to the mattress. He laid down on the covers behind the sleeping man.
Curling up behind Dean, Castiel laid his head on the man's shoulder. And, for a time, he slept.