S0000. First Supernatural fic, hm. I kind of wanted it to be Dean/Cas, but this pairing kind of just came out of nowhere and went "LOL HI WE'RE GOING TO BE YOUR SPN HET OTP AND YOU WILL WRITE FIC KTHNX" so I obliged goddammit no regrets either okay i'm rambling fuck
also listening to The Bloodhound Gang on repeat did not help either. ~

You will be surprised to know I don't own Supernatural, never have, never will. /sobs


Meg hadn't really expected him to stay. He almost never did, but every once in a while he'd make an exception. Like now, when the grey morning light streamed through her motel room blinds and woke her up, she felt his arms slung lightly around her waist, and she tried not to think about how this was the third time in a row he had "made an exception".
(To be honest, there's a lot of things Meg tries not to think about when she's with Castiel.)

Twitching her head to the left, she observed the still sleeping angel. He looked so disgustingly perfect when he was sleeping. Angelic would be the word, if it wasn't so friggin' ironic, she thought. She couldn't help but sigh a little. Then immediately wanted to stab herself in the face with Ruby's knife. Emotions, bleh. See, this is the downside of us fucking. He makes me feel all... clean. And nice. Ew.

Meg simply didn't do sappy or affectionate. Period. Greed, envy... lust, those were more her kinda gig. She made a mental note be an extra, extra huge bitch today to make up for it.

She slowly untangled herself from the the mess of limbs and bedsheets and hey, how did her bra end up here? and started collecting various items of clothing that had been haphazardly strewn across the room a few hours before.

That's when she spots the radio. It catches her eye as she pulls on her shirt and underwear, standing innocently on the bed side table right next to Castiel's head. She stared at it for a moment. Did all motel rooms have these? She had never noticed one before, but then again she wasn't exactly taking in her surrounding most of the time.

Curious, she padded quietly over to inspect the newly discovered piece of technology, a wicked plan already forming in her mind, as per usual.

She pressed what she assumed to be the "on" button, and the small machine came to life, thankfully not turned up loud enough to wake the sleeping angel next to it. Meg smirked, crouching down in front of the radio.

Turning the tuner dial, she sought out a suitable station, pausing every now and again to listen to a part of a song. Suddenly, she found a song she not only recognized, but actually knew. Very well.

"...smothered, want you covered like my Waffle House hashbrowns..."

Meg's dark eyes sparked maliciously. How fitting. Reaching for the volume dial, she turned it up full blast.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, Clarence."

Castiel's eyes shot open and he couldn't contain the tiny sound of terror that escaped his mouth. Meg threw back her head and cackled with laughter. She couldn't help it. He just looked so... deer in the headlights, was the only way to put it. And hey, she was a demon. It was her purpose in life to laugh at other's misfortunes.

Cas, on the other hand, was about three seconds away from disappearing in a flurry of very disgruntled wings, but he found himself oddly distracted by the sight of a rather scantily clad Meg dancing around, singing along to The Bad Touch with... slightly disturbing accuracy, he noted.
(Castiel doesn't really know how he recognizes the song, or even wants to; hanging around Dean Winchester could do that to a person, even an angel of the lord.)

"You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals
So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel
(Do it again now)
You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals..."

Meg stopped singing along and snickered, throwing him a roguish glance. "Well, we both know that's not strictly true, but I digress."

She held his gaze for a split second too long and, looking back towards the radio, turned the volume down until the song was barely above a whisper.

She bent over him and in one fluid motion captured his lips. The kiss was slow and tasted like morning breath and whiskey and something slightly different for both of them.
(For Castiel, it's sulphuric and harsh and bitter. For Meg, it's what she imagines clouds would taste like.)

When they broke apart Meg was straddling his waist, and Castiel became aware of the fact that he was still naked, regretting not taking the chance to leave when he could. Meg was gazing down at him, wearing that expression that he wanted to physically harm.

They sat like that for a while.

Castiel broke the silence.

"I hate you." The honesty of his words rang in her ears.

"Yeah, Clarence, I know. I hate you too." She leaned in close, her smirking lips almost brushing his own. "But really, what would we do without each other?"

Two could play at that game.



("And c'mon, the thought of an angel jerking off is ever weirder than an angel and a demon fucking, right?"

and with that he's gone.)


beautiful fucked up ship is beautiful UGH
this is ridiculous and short I KNOW but it's the only halfway decent thing i've written in a while and I just love these two so yeah deal with it c:
reviews plz? maybe? -puppy dog eyes-