inonebasket | (no subject)

Good for him.

Cas is starting on his second burger because he's eating his feelings. His eyes flick up to Dean as he emerges and he gestures to the boxes containing Dean's burgers and pie with a twitch of his fingers. "I'm glad."

Oh boy.

Dean settles into his seat, grabbing at the burgers and setting the pie aside for later. He eats with relish, though still more quietly than usual; there's plenty of appreciative moaning, but that's as far as it goes.

"How about you? How's your neck? Could work on it some, if you want."

"I don't think that would be wise." Chew, chew, chew.

"You're as tense as I was, dude. But whatever, we'll find you a massage parlor or something."

"I don't like it when strangers touch me." Especially since he's not capable of breaking their faces six ways to Sunday anymore.

Augh.

Dean fights the urge to bang his head into the table.

"You're not making this easy on me, Cas."

"This isn't an easy problem." Duh. It's not easy on anybody and Cas is the last person who'd pretend that something is easy for the sake of social norm.

He pushes his chair back and stands, wiping his mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I need to take a shower and pleasure myself to the thought of getting you completely naked." Peace, shower time. Click goes the door lock.

....

CHOKE

Dean is just. Going to. Stare. At the bathroom door. For quite a while.

He needs some air.

Dean grabs one of the room keys from the table, yanks on his boots, and heads outside. It's somehow even hotter outside than it is inside; it feels like he's wearing way too many layers even though he's clearly not. Jeans and a t-shirt is not "too many layers."

Ten minutes. He only plans to be gone ten minutes, but somehow his walk takes him a lot farther than he meant to go so it's more like he's gone for an hour. By the time he gets back, he's in need of another shower, sweat making the back of his neck uncomfortably sticky.

Except that once Dean enters the room Cas is going to shove him against the wall with a hand to his chest. Not in that sexy way either, no; in that 'I'm pretty angry at you Dean' sort of way.

"Get a phone," Cas growls out before backing off.

He turns, letting out a breath and putting a hand to his forehead. When he'd emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later and found a room key gone, the Impala still there and with no sign of Dean, he hadn't been alarmed. He probably just took a short walk.

The walk turned into an hour and Cas started having visions of a Leviathan happening across Dean and doing any number of things to him. Castiel's imagination is surprisingly vivid.

"Whoa--whoa, Cas!"

Now Dean just feels like an asshole. He really can't do anything right by Cas, can he?

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I was just...worried." Not scared. Worried.

"I'm sorry for how I behaved earlier." Because Cas had known he was being a dick, he just didn't care. "I'm just frustrated." He pauses. "Regretting my decision to take a male vessel, as well."

"Cas, I already told you. You wouldn't be you in another vessel."

Dammit. Dean knew he was being hard on Cas with the whole gay thing, but he hadn't realized it was bugging him this much. Good job, Dean. You keep breaking it.

"Look, I'm sorry. You had every right to be ticked off; I was being a dick. Cockblocking...it sucks."

"If you had met me as a female, you wouldn't think so." Cas almost wishes that Dean, like Jimmy, was able to perceive his true form. Maybe if he could, that would have driven the point home that he's not a penis or a vagina or human. Maybe it would be easier on Dean if he had physical proof that the rules really, honestly do not apply to Castiel.

"It doesn't matter. As we collect more of my Grace, this will become more manageable for me. You won't have to worry about it soon."

Dean completely ignores everything except for the end.

"I want to worry about it."

"You want to worry about it." Cas repeats it like it's the stupidest thing he's ever heard.

Yeah, that didn't make much sense, did it.

But the fact is, Dean's had three wet dreams involving Cas in the last week and every time he's jacked off, he's been thinking about Cas' mouth. That is distressing and disturbing, but dammit, he likes Cas. And the making out has been pretty good. And--Dean has no idea what he's thinking.

Wait. When does he ever?

He closes the space between them and grabs Cas, kissing him until he's forced to break for air. "I know I'm being an idiot. And I know it's selfish. But please, Cas. Please." What's he asking for? ...does it really matter?

God damn it Dean.

"I need you to stop doing that if you're asking for my patience," Cas croaks out, because his hands are shaking at Dean's sides and his breath is labored and sweet Christ he wants to shove Dean up against that wall so badly.

"I'm not. God help me, Cas, I'm not."

And then he's shoving Castiel against the wall, kissing him because Dean Winchester doesn't hesitate, dammit. If he's going to do this then he might as well jump in headfirst and get it over with quick, right?

Cas has no idea what changed but hell if he's looking at this particular gift horse in the mouth.

No matter how tightly Cas wraps his arms around Dean he can't get their bodies close enough. He picks up tips, techniques, what to do with his lips and tongue by what Dean's doing to him and puts all of it to good use. The room gets even hotter and Cas is panting for air wherever he can get it; his fingers curve and he rakes them down Dean's back because that seems like the right thing to do.

Nothing changed.

Well, nothing significant changed. Except for one, small, incredibly important detail. Dean pulls back, grinning at Cas. In fact, the longer he looks, the wider his grin becomes, until--

Oh dear god.

This isn't Dean.

It's a Leviathan.

At first Cas honestly understand; then, for a terrifying second of emotional freefall, he refuses to understand.

That confusion falls under the weight of the fury that slowly seeps through Castiel all the way down to his toes. "Where is he." It doesn't occur to Cas to check his temper in the face of a thing much, much stronger than he.

"Where's who? Where's who, Cas?" It's feigning innocence badly. It'd be much more effective if the Leviathan would stop smiling.

"He's fine, little buddy. Well. For certain values of fine. He's not gonna die anyway."

Cas has to reach for that tiny speck of Grace inside of him to find his calm because he's about two words away from attempting to rip this thing's face off. He needs to keep his head in this situation if he has any hope of helping Dean.

He also needs to get ahold of Bobby and Sam. His phone is across the room in his duffel.

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? Same thing all of us want." It shrugs, and the movement is disturbingly Dean-like. "You and the Winchesters are a thorn in our side. Boss wants to be rid of you all. But me, I believe in ...savoring my meals. Might as well enjoy myself while I eat."

It seems so unconcerned. As if it knows what a pathetic speck Castiel is.

"You should've heard him though. You're one lucky bastard, you know that? You've got that Winchester wrapped around your little finger."

When humans want something, really really bad, we lie.

Castiel takes a deep breath and lifts his chin. "Then you know about the Grace we've recovered."