It was supposed to be just another hunt. They had tracked a werewolf, following him to a neighborhood just east of downtown Seattle.
The streets were decorated with Christmas lights and people walked past them carrying wrapped gifts. The 'man' they were following had entered a huge, brightly lit discoteque. The fact that all the supposed customers crowding the area were men didn't go unnoticed by either Dean or Sam. The disco's name, Fashion Delirium, also got their attention. Castiel walked behind both brothers like a Terminator – the bad one, of course - with a Connor within range.
The club's bouncer, a bald man dressed in black leather pants and a form-hugging white t-shirt that enhanced his heavily muscled arms, sized them up and fixed Dean with a lecherous look that would have sent a lesser man running for the hills.
"Hello, I can do for you?"
Dean's eyebrow twitched.
"Yeah, well," said Sam, suppressing a smile. "you see, a friend told us to come here. I think I saw him going in a few minutes ago."
The Riddick look-alike switched his stare to Sam, apparently finding something interesting about him, too.
"I'm sorry, but this is a private club...I'm afraid I can't let you in."
Dean's right hand rummaged through his pockets, as if searching for some convincing reason for letting them pass. A .45 reason, maybe.
Abruptly Castiel stepped in front and gazed intently at the guy blocking their way.
"You must let us in. There is something we must do tonight at all costs."
"Wow, an eager one," the bouncer gave Cas a once-over and leered. "Ok, you´ve convinced me, you can enter. I think you´ll fit in here. Specially you, green eyes," he said, looking pointedly at Dean´s ass.
The owner of said ifirm/i ass forced a crooked grin that promised long and painful death and stomped past the overly-friendly bouncer. He crossed the door with a snickering Sam and an oblivious Castiel behind him, who was belatedly trying to see what the man out there had noticed about Dean buttocks. That earned more muffled laughter from Sam and a warning glare from Dean that had Cas diverting his attention after one last lingering glance at Dean's back pockets.
"Ok, let´s try to do this quickly. We´ll divide up and search for him. The first one that finds him, alert the others and we'll finish the job, nice and quiet".
Dean didn't wait for a response, but turned and began to shoulder through in the ocean of tightly clothed men. He wanted to get the job done as fast as they could.
For the love of God, was that Cher on the sound system?, Dean wondered. Just hearing it made him miss his baby -- awesome, powerful, beautiful ... and stocked with so many Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath cassettes, a man could find himself in rock-and-roll paradise.
The fucking place was huge. Dean passed some men kissing and some grinding on each other. A couple of guys tried to make conversation but disappeared rather fast after he put on a scowl and glared them the hell down.
Dean didn't know how much time it took to make it through the dance floor. Finally arriving with some difficulty at the bar, where he'd have a better view, he approached the waiter, a tall man wearing only a pair of jeans and knee-high boots, who served him a much-needed beer, which he gulped down in one go. He was ordering a second one when something – or rather, someone -- caught his attention. And unfortunately, it was not the werewolf they were searching for.
"What the ..."
On the other side of the bar was Castiel. And he was not alone.
Dean´s blood began to boil.
Next to Cas, and by 'next to' he meant totally leaning into him was a tall, dark-haired man who was smiling down at his prey - there was no other way to describe it. Dean himself had been the predator more than once in similar situations, and recognized that stance instantly. Cas was standing there, with that stiff posture of his, staring at the other man with those eyes that were as innocent as they were ancient, and that stare that could easily be mis-read as something it definitely wasn't, not that the angel realized it.
Surely Cas wouldn´t have problems with something like that, but Dean knew from experience that Cas tended to ignore personal space. In other places, and with him, it really didn't matter, but in this stupid disco-bar ...
And where the hell was that damned trenchcoat? Now of all the times Cas had decided to take it off? He had the wrinkled shirt, the rumpled tie begging to be fixed and that disheveled sex hair of his, and with that lost and out of place look, Dean hated to admit it, but Cas looked utterly adorable. Something told Dean that the person currently hovering over him was having similar thoughts, only he was probably imagining Cas without all those wrinkled and rumpled clothes on.
Dean's eyes were now just narrowed into green slits. Some part of him whispered that he shouldn't be so angry at the scene in front of him. He wasn't stupid; he realized that he cared about Cas. A lot. He wasn't used naming those types of feelings, or even thinking about them and usually prefered avoiding that kind of chick business, but fuck, he would still be in Hell if Cas hadn't rescued him. Cas had risked everything for him and Sam, even ifell for them/i, if that son of a bitch Zachariah was right about what would happen in the future. Not that Dean would allow that to happen. Not Lucifer in Sammy's meat suit, not himself being a heartless dick, and not Castiel broken and hopeless. The mere thought sent a shiver down Dean's spine and worsened his mood even more.
Well, fuck it.
Surely Cas could do whatever he wanted, and the angel of the Lord had proved to be powerful enough to destroy creatures of his own kind, so a stupid dude hitting on him was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around his head. But that didn't mean that Dean had to like it. And he didn't like it. One. Fucking. Bit.
Then Mr iI'm-gonna-die-sooooo-soon/i went and put his hand on Cas's hip. The angel apparently didn't notice and continued watching the man with something akin to interest, something that once again could easily be misunderstood as an invitation.
The moron smiled in a vain attempt to be charming and Castiel silently nodded.
Okay. That was it.
The next moment Dean was stomping through the crowd in their direction, pushing aside some couples that seemed glued to each other.
When he was in front of them, the man's Soon-To-Be-Removed-From-His-Body hand was nearing, in Dean's expert opinion in a not very subtle way, the clasp of Cas trousers. And the blue eyes continued to be transfixed in the other's.Come on Cas, Dean thought, no one could be so oblivious.
Breathing deeply to calm his thoughts, Dean put his best fake smile on and invaded Cas's personal space from behind, sliding an arm around his waist and effectively removing the man's hands from Cas's hips.
"Hey, I've been searching you," Dean said.
Castiel's gaze was now focused entirely on Dean. The other man frowned. Dean gave Cas's waist a squeeze and grinned.
"Hello, Dean." Castiel seemed a little confused and looked at the hand on his waist, but apparently he didn't find anything wrong with it and returned his attention to Dean, almost shrugging.
Dean smiled at him fondly, telling himself that it was totally feigned, and then turned to the man in front of them, smiling widely.
"Hello, I'm Dean," he extended his hand, which the other man eyed suspiciously, and finally shook.
Maybe Dean used more force than usual, from the look of pain that crossed the other's face. What a pity.
"Jason. It's a pleasure," was whispered in a strained tone.
"Well, what were you talking about? I saw you looking very cheerful over here ... Cas?" - Dean´s hand now moved to the angel´s shoulder and drew him closer, which earned him another perplexed glance from Castiel.
"Jason was telling me that he knew where to find the thing I was searching for and I was telling him that I am convinced that what he believes I need it is not indeed what I am searching for. But he has a very interesting soul; maybe a little dark, but nonetheless interesting," Castiel murmured.
"What you need, huh? Awesome." Unamused eyes turned to Jason.
"Yeah, well." Jason was sweating and looked like a cornered rat. It would be kind of funny if Dean wasn't so pissed.
"I think you'd better be going, Jason. I'm sure you have something else to do."
It took no time at all for Jason to disappear into the crowd.
Dean inhaled deeply and tried to stay calm. Maybe he was acting like a jealous ... friend, but this was a gay bar, and in the real human world Cas was always pretty lost, and that dick was acting like Cas belonged to him, and certainly if Cas was anyone's property (which he wasn´t, of course), he would be Dean's, as in his particular guardian angel.
Bottomless pools of blue sky looked at Dean expectantly, interrupting his strange and wandering thoughts.
"I think you should explain to me the concept of personal space again. I thought I understood it, but I am afraid that I missed something vital.." Cas looked pointedely at the hand gripping his shoulder.
Dean removed it quickly and stepped back, missing the warm body at his side almost instantly.
He opened his mouth, surely to say something stupid, but Sam chose that moment to appear. And from the too-big smile on his face, Dean suspected that he had witnessed, if not everything, at least a lot of what had happened.
"I've got new information," Sam said. "The werewolf left here a while ago, but I convinced a waiter who knew the guy to tell me its address. Don't ask me how. Please." Sam looked a little sickened all of a sudden.
Dean had an remark for that on the tip of his tongue, but Sam was faster and had already turned his attention from Dean and was grinning broadly.
"Well, Cas, it seems that you really do fit in here. Both of you, seriously."
Dean rolled his eyes and pretended that he was not embarassed. Having a brother in smartass mode after witnessing a possesive display and an angel buddy looking at you like you were a complicated puzzle that he was more than willing to solve tended to make him a little uncomfortable.
"You know, I think that almost every guy here checked you out, Cas. In fact, a few girls, who I can assure you," Sam coughed discreetly, "are not into men whistled at you." He lifted his eyebrows suggestively and sneaked a look at Dean, who was now fuming.
Castiel seemed strangely pleased with himself. Dean was convinced that things like "being checked-out" weren't even in the angel´s vocabulary.
"Is this place like the den of iniquity you took me to, Dean?" he asked pensively.
Sam's eyes grew the size of saucers and then narrowed at Dean.
"Tell me you didn't take an angel of the Lord to a brothel." Sam's best bitch face was back in town.
Dean grinned nervously and scratched his head.
Castiel continued his train of thought while staring absently at a man a few yards from him, ignoring the way Sam was stalking Dean, who was backing away with both arms raised in surrender and managing a reassuring smile.
"Maybe I could execute the plan you had for me last time, Dean." A man standing a little ways down the bar smiled at Castiel and waved. "It didn't work out so well then, but it seems I really do fit in here." Castiel tilted the head to one side, as if trying to figure out some epic problem.
The man began approaching them, and Dean disentangled himself from Sam, who was currently trying to hit him, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'corruptor of divine beings'. Dodging from well-directed slaps to the head, Dean grabbed Cas's waist and glared at him while clutching him to his side.
"Dean, you are confusing me." Castiel frowned.
"You're confused all the time, Cas. Don't worry about it." Dean clapped his hands and looked alternately at both of them. "So, the werewolf. You have the directions, Sammy? Let's go, I'm dying to kill the bastard." He turned and searched for the front door. They were in a less crowded part of the club and at his right was a large corridor that bordered the building and ended in a side exit that Dean hurried toward. He needed fresh air right away.
The corridor was crowded with too many people to be pleasant, and here there was almost a full orgy going on. Salvation was only a few feet away, but a woman Dean tried to dodge stopped him, putting a hand on his arm, and smiled at him sweetly, then looked up at the ceiling, and finally to the person behind him, who happened to be Castiel.
Fucking Mistletoe. And Castiel. And him. Under it.
If Dean was a less brave man, he would be hyperventaling right now. Being a Winchester, he only gaped liked a fish out of water as he tried and failed to find some words.
Castiel looked up. And then looked at Dean, without a single muscle moving in his face.
Behind Cas, Sam had a sudden cough attack that sound suspiciously like a muffled laugh.
Castiel kept still and tilted his face, studying the shocked human in front of him with silent interest.
"Is something the matter, Dean?"
Dean briefly considered telling Cas an elaborate lie. He wouldn´t know what the misteltoe was all about, and it was a silly tradition, anyway. And Dean didn't want to kiss Cas. No he didn't. Honestly.
"That, Cas," interrupted Sam, pointing at the mistletoe. "It's a human tradition. At Christmas, if you and another person are under it, you have to," he cleared his throat, "kiss the other person. It's .. customary."
Castiel's eyes grew in size, the only sign that he was listening.
"It's a pagan tradition!" managed Dean weakly.
"It always makes for fun times at Christmas celebrations," said the big geek. "But, even if the pagan significance has been mostly forgotten, the custom of kissing under the mistletoe is still found in Europe, Canada and the US. It's a human custom, like I said."
Cas seemingly was digesting this information while staring fixedly at Dean.
Had Cas's eyes always been so blue? Dean wondered. That amazing and unique shade of azure was maybe the only physical proof that in front of him was a celestial creature, because surely those eyes couldn't be human.
"Good," said Castiel finally.
And then he moved forward and positioned both hands on Dean's unshaved cheeks, effectively trapping him as he joined their lips together.
Dean did not panic. Absolutely not.
Saying he was shocked was the understatement of the year. Of the fucking century. He didn't know what he was expecting, but what he definitely wasn't was this.
Apparently he was the only one stunned, if Cas's serene face and seemingly experienced mouth were anything to go by. It would seem that two thousands years of walking the Earth really could teach something about human interaction to winged beings.
So, Dean decided to follow his instincts, like always. And what said instincts were screaming at him was something along the lines of Go The Fuck For It, dumbass! Who was he to ignore his own mental voice anyway?
The rational part of his brain exclaimed, Dude, it's Castiel!
And the first one answered, It is Castiel
As if sensing Dean's turbulent thoughts, Castiel retreated with something like regret in his features.
Dean moved finally.
He might be only a mere human born a few decades ago, but damned if some angel - his doubts about their gender were now apparently resolved, Dean thought abstractly - was gonna make Dean Winchester appear like a young girl being kissed for the first time.
Dean grabbed Cas and pulled him swiftly and brutally forward and before Cas could protest Dean kissed him with an unexpected force that made him stumble, trapping him in Dean's arms. One of Dean's hands went to Castiel's waist and the other grabbed his hair and pulled not too gently, angling his head and allowing an imperious tongue to map his mouth.
Something told Dean - maybe the sudden impact of his back with the wall a few feet behind him - that maybe, only maybe Cas didn't like being overwhelmed by a mere human. That, or he was enjoying this a little too much, if the warm trace of a hand under the material of his t-shirt meant what Dean thought it meant.
And maybe (once again, only maybe), he himself was enjoying it too, because the heat he was feeling down low in his stomach was certainly not due to a sudden change of temperature.
The sensation of the kiss, the hand wandering over his abs and the apparently innocent one massaging his scalp were enough to make Dean a human puddle in danger of completely losing control of the situation. The unique scent of Castiel surrounded him, and for a second he didn´t mind being controlled, if that meant being able to feel this way, like he hadn't in more years that he could remember.
Cas's lips grazed his neck. Oh God.
A sudden thought made his eyes snap open. Not that he remembered closing them…
Damn it, that werewolf... He'd let himself get carried away and there might still be people in danger. Dean tried looking around but he only managed to see Cas, who still had his eyes closed and seemed to be having an ephipany or something, judging by his expression. Dean was momentarily distracted by his flushed cheeks and black, messy hair, but tried to focus on the main problem, which he had managed to forget thanks to Cas's distracting tongue.
Only for a second, really.
Or maybe a couple of minutes. Time was relative.
"I´m ... I mean, I´m going to ... I forgot something in the Impala. See you later,when you're ... uh,finished." Sam retreated clumsily, trying to look anywhere except at the two of them. It made Dean smirk.
In his hurry to leave, Sam bumped into a man and apologized quickly before turning and making a fast escape, wearing a grimace that this time made Dean laugh out out loud.
Until the neglected person currently in his arms decided to once more bring him closer and inhale deeply, burying his face in Dean's neck. Cas sighed happily, making Dean shiver with something akin to anticipation.
The fact that he was still standing, only supported against the wall by a dude's body, actually could be considered as a helluva freaky scene for his brother, now that Dean thought about it. And with said dude being an angel's vessel who could smite him to death and had raised him from perdition, well ... it was a little bizarre at least.
Teeth began to scrap his jaw. And his t-shirt was definitely getting pushed up, baring his stomach.
Damn, Cas was fucking eager. And skilled.
And that hadn't been a moan. At least not from Dean.
"Cas," Dean whispered in a hoarse voice. "Sorry to disturb you, and not that I'm not liking it, but I don't think this is the place and time." Cas hummed against Dean's throat. "We should find Sammy. And the, the ..." Dean gasped after a particularly sharp bite behind his ear.
The bastard was so gonna pay for this...
"You mean the werewolf, Dean?" finished Castiel. Fuck the son of a bitch, he sounded really smug. And sexy.
With an effort he didn't believe possible a moment ago, Dean moved away from Castiel, who looked at him with sparkling eyes and a barely supressed smirk.
When had he learned to smirk?
Glaring at him, Dean arranged his crumpled clothes and hair and tried his best to keep calm, trying to preserve some dignity.
"First, we're gonna find Sam. Then, we're gonna track down that wolf and hunt it. And then, you and I will have a talk."
Now Castiel wore a full blown smirk.
"Of course, Dean. We will talk. As you wish." Very naughty implications crossed Dean's mind at the last statement and the suggestive promise that could be read in those damned attractive eyes.
Dean broke eye contact, and turned for the exit, and by putting in a lot of effort he managed to reach the door, finally.
He breathed in the cold night and made his way towards the street where his baby was parked, with Castiel following him silently and observing him maybe a little more closely than usual.
Surely Sam wouldn't mind getting a room on his own that night.