Work Text:
Operation Glucose is a-gogo. Meet by bus stop in ten to commence emergency Black Bag Operation.
- Candyman
Gabriel, it’s 1AM and I have a big bio test tomorrow. Go to sleep.
- S
OPERATION GLUCOSE IS A-GOGO MEET BY BUS STOP IN TEN TO COMMENCE EMERGENCY BLACK BAG OPERATION
- CANDYMAN
Pushy bastard.
Okay, fine, but if I fail my test, I’m blaming you.
Also, don’t call yourself ‘Candyman’. It’s creepy.
- S
Dress in black clothes. Preferably tight ones ;)
- G
Usually, Sam didn’t really understand he was friends with the insufferable Gabriel Novak. But tonight, as he trudged his way up the cracked sidewalk to the bus stop between their houses, the only emotion he felt toward the hyperactive little turd was that of pure hatred. And possibly murderousness.
As he rounded the corner, a hand latched onto his arm and tugged him backwards. Sam jumped, reflexively whirling around to smash his fist into his assailant’s jaw. There was a high pitched yelp from the attacker as he lost his balance and fell flat on his ass with a dull thump.
Sam lowered his hands as his eyes adjusted to the scene. “Gabriel?” he hissed.
The other boy looked up at him, flicking his toffee-coloured hair out his eyes as he rubbed his jaw petulantly. “Oh, look, it’s got eyes. Would’ve helped if you’d, y’know, used them before frigging dislocating my jaw.”
“You brought it on yourself by grabbing me like that,” Sam replied shortly. “A simple ‘hi’ would’ve been good enough.” He held his hand out to help Gabriel up.
“This is gonna leave one ugly-ass bruise, Sammy. I should sue,” said Gabriel as he clambered to his feet and dusted himself off. He picked a backpack Sam previously hadn’t noticed up off the ground and peered inside. “The supplies are unharmed,” he said with a relieved sigh. Then, he stuck a hand inside the backpack and pulled out one of those sugar straws, pouring the contents in his mouth before offering the backpack to Sam.
Sam ignored him. “So, are you planning on telling me why, exactly, you made me sneak out at—” He checked his watch—“one-fifteen in the morning?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Samster, I’m getting there.” Gabriel paused, presumably for dramatic effect. “We’re infiltrating Crowley HQ on a mission to retrieve a certain document that may be detrimental to my academic career due to the false information it contains.”
Sam looked at him. “In other words, you bullshitted a paper and now you want me to help you break into the school to get it back?”
“Jonathan Groff’s ass seemed way more interesting than the Declaration of Independence at the time I had to write the paper, okay? It still is.”
Sam couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment Gabriel had started showing an interest in men—somewhere along the line, he’d just started commenting on how hot certain guys were. He’d never made a big deal of coming out to Sam, so neither of them had thought to let it affect their friendship.
But that didn’t stop the Winchester from glaring at Gabriel now.
“Sorry, sorry,” Gabe said, raising his hands apologetically. “I forgot that a statement like that might threaten your heterosexuality—but, c’mon, Samster. Even you gotta admit that Groff’s ass is amazing.”
“I don’t care whose ass we’re talking about, Gabe—I’m going home,” Sam said, turning on his heel.
“Whoa—Whoa, hold up, Sammy!”
Sam felt Gabriel throw his arms around his waist, pressing his forehead between Sam’s shoulder blades.
“If you don’t help me, I’m screwed,” Gabriel said.
“So you should be.”
“But I’ll have to do summer school!”
“Karma, Gabe.”
“Sammy, pleeeaaase,” whined Gabriel into Sam’s hoodie, dragging out the word. “I need your help, okay, kid? I’m… I’m too short to get through the windows myself,” he admitted sheepishly. “Look, I’ll do anything. I’ll do your homework for you for the next month!”
Sam inhaled deeply. “You’re pathetic,” he said, “and your trouble with doing homework is what got you into this mess in the first place—”
“I hear a ‘but’ in there,” Gabriel piped up hopefully.
“—but I guess I’ll help you.”
Sam could feel Gabriel’s grin against his back. “Thanks, Sammy!” his friend chirruped. “I knew I could count on you!”
Sam squeezed the bridge of his nose, already regretting his decision. “Just. This isn’t going to become a regular thing, alright? Don’t call me in a week, expecting me to crawl out of bed to help you steal back a Spanish essay you put through Google Translate or whatever.”
Gabriel was silent.
“Gabe?” Sam asked.
“Shit,” his friend replied. “I still need to do that essay. It’s only due next Wednesday, right?”
“Nope.”
“Shit.”
With a roll of his eyes, Sam detangled Gabriel’s arms from around his waist. “Let’s get this over with,” he said as he started uphill, in the direction of the school. Gabriel trotted beside him, taking quick, bouncy little steps to keep up with Sam’s long strides.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Gabriel said.
“What?”
“I can’t believe batting my eyelashes and playing the damsel in distress actually worked. Sammo, d’you realise what this means?”
“No. I don’t really care, either, to be hon—”
“It means you’re in love with me! You have a Great Big Crush on me. You’re my little bitch now!” Gabriel let out a sound of delight at this, a pleased little “heh!”
“I’m about to turn around and go home, Gabriel.”
“So does that mean asking you to be my glorious steed as I ride into battle would be pushing it?”
“It means asking me not to punch you in the face would be pushing it.”
“Love you, too, Samster,” said Gabriel happily.
There’s something extremely creepy about visiting a school after hours. Sam’s knowledge of this fact was strongly reinforced as he knelt down beneath the window, held his hands out and said, “Get up.”
Gabriel looked down at him. “Oh, no, bucko. No way am I standing on your hands.”
Sam released a groan of frustration. “Gabriel, I’m not gonna drop you, okay? I lift weights at the gym four days a week and work out every morning.”
“Thanks for telling me about your exercise regime, kid, but I’m still not standing on your hands.” He made a downwards motion with his finger. “On all fours.”
“Oh my god,” said Sam as he turned and leaned down to rest his forearms on the grass. It was wet; he could feel dew brushing his nose. “Happy?”
“Yup!”
There was a beat, then suddenly Sam’s face was smushed into the mud and his back was practically being crushed by the massive weight on top of it. His arms gave out; he collapsed, the weight following him down.
Sam gasped in a breath, winded, and lifted his face out the mud. “How—the hell—are you—so—heavy?” he panted incredulously, craning his neck to look at Gabriel’s form on his back. “You’re a hobbit, for Christ’s sake!”
Gabriel released a small moaning sound and rolled off Sam. “I’m big-boned, you insensitive piece of shit,” he said. “For the love of—first you knock my jaw loose, now this. Are you trying to kill me?”
Sam wasn’t listening. “No way that weight’s just from you being ‘big-boned’.” He sat up to scrutinize the other boy. “How much candy are you packing?”
Gabriel flopped over to lie on his stomach. “I think I broke at least a dozen bones and you’re worried about candy?” he said.
“Gabriel, if I didn’t break any bones, you didn’t either. Empty your pockets. Now.”
Gabe rolled his eyes and hauled himself to his feet. “You’re such a dick,” he accused as he pulled his jeans’ pockets inside out, allowing at least fifty assorted pieces of candy to fall onto the grass. Before Sam could respond, he held up a finger to signal that he wasn’t done, then tugged off his jacket and shook it, resulting in another rainfall of colourful packages to tumble to the ground. After shaking the jacket a couple more times, he seemed to decide it was sufficiently empty, and yanked off his brown boots and emptied those too.
Gabriel frowned, as if he was trying to remember something, then released an, “Oh!” of recollection and lifted his shirt to reveal a pouch strapped around his waist. He unclipped the pouch and dumped it where all the other food lay.
“There,” Gabriel announced finally. “That’s about it.”
Sam stared at the small mountain of candy between them. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said after a moment. “How—why—you’ve got to be kidding.”
“Surprisingly, I’m not.”
“You—” Sam started, grabbing a handful of the candy and throwing it at Gabriel. The other boy hopped nimbly out the line of fire, “—are not normal. In fact, you’re the weirdest person I have ever met, and I hope to god you know why we’re friends because I sure as hell don’t.”
“Well, that’s just harsh, Samster.” Gabriel frowned at him, yelping slightly when a strawberry chew hit his thigh. “Hey! Careful with those!”
Sam scooped up a couple more pieces of candy, tossing them lazily at Gabriel as he sat up and leaned back against the wall of the school. “You’re ridiculous,” he said blandly. He realised he wasn’t angry anymore as he stared up at Gabriel, as he watched how the boy practically buzzed with energy. In fact, Sam was starting to laugh. “You are completely and utterly ridiculous.”
At this, Gabriel’s entire face lit up with a grin and he bounced over to Sam and plonked down in front of him. “Not-normal, weird and ridiculous, huh? All a bit synonymous, but, hey, I’m cool with that description!” He crossed his legs and looked at Sam, tilting his head. “Let’s see… Hmm, you’re…” Gabriel narrowed his eyes contemplatively, “…big, obviously, and smart, and… suitable!” He nodded decisively.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “‘Suitable’?”
“Yup. ’Cause you look great in a suit.”
“You realise that’s not what suitable means, right?”
“Oh, because the English language doesn’t evolve? Shut up, it means that now.” Gabriel hopped to his feet again and squinted up at the school. “Alright, down on all fours. We’re trying this again.”
Sam got up. “Nope.”
“Nope? Whaddaya mean, nope—?” Gabriel started, but Sam cut him off.
“I’m gonna get in there myself, then I’m gonna pull you up. Because, dude, you nearly threw my back out!”
Gabriel started to object, then huffed out a breath. “If you drop me, I’m gonna steal your firstborn and raise it as a goat farmer to be sacrificed to the god Loki.”
“Uh. What?”
Gabriel hitched up a shoulder. “Dunno, it was the first thing that came to mind. So are you gonna climb through that window or what?”
Sam sighed and got to his feet, reaching up to grasp at the bottom of the window. He paused. “Is this window even open?” he asked, not looking at Gabriel.
“Yes-no-maybe? I was planning to work this stuff out as we went along.” Sam could hear the shrug in Gabriel’s voice.
Sam tightened his grip on the window and pushed up. Nothing happened. He tried again, harder this time, but still to no avail.
“It’s locked,” Sam declared, turning around. “So what’s the plan now, then—?”
Before Sam could finish speaking, something flew over his head and crashed straight through the window. Sam scrambled out the way, even though logic told him that the shattered glass would fly into the room rather than out onto the grass. He looked up at the broken window and stared at it for a moment, then dragged his gaze to the beaming Gabriel. “What did you do?” he asked slowly, despite the fact that a lump of lead in his stomach told him he knew the answer.
“Threw a rock at it,” said Gabriel cheerfully.
“You—You—!” Sam sputtered. “That’s vandalism, Gabriel! It’s illegal!”
“And breaking and entering isn’t?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Sammy, stop imitating a leaky faucet and just climb in there, wouldja?
Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head disbelievingly, then turned and grabbed the windowsill to hoist himself up. “You never cease to amaze me,” he mumbled.
“Taking that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be one,” said Sam as he lowered himself into the classroom, sweeping the glass on the floor aside with his shoe.
“Too bad.”
Sam turned to poke his head out the window and look down at Gabriel. Gabe smiled pleasantly and held his arms up.
“I’m getting flashbacks to being a toddler,” commented Gabriel as Sam leaned out the window to grab the other boy’s forearms.
“Hold my forearms, too. That way we won’t break any fingers,” Sam told him by way of explanation.
“Wouldn’t broken fingers get us out of doing any schoolwork?”
“Dunno. How d’you plan to explain us both having broken fingers, though?”
“Good point.”
“Okay,” Sam said, exhaling. “When I say jump, jump.”
Gabriel shifted slightly, bracing himself, until Sam said, “Jump!” and he hopped into the air. Sam tried to use this momentum to pull Gabriel through the window, but was met by some resistance—presumably, Gabriel’s aforementioned “big-boned-ness”. Sam released a sound of alarm and planted his feet firmly on the ground, pulling back against the struggling Gabriel’s weight. After one more yank on Sam’s behalf, Gabriel flew through the window in an almost comical manner and knocked Sam to the ground.
“Shit!” hissed Sam as he felt the skin of his left palm being pierced by something sharp. He lifted his hand and almost winced at the sight of the shards of glass buried in the skin. In the brief moment that his hand was raised, blood dribbled down his arm.
Gabriel nuzzled his face into Sam’s neck dazedly. “Don’t swear,” he mumbled. “S’not ladylike.”
Sam ignored him, sitting up and shoving Gabriel off himself. He stared down at the bloodied, ripped flesh of his palm in dismay. “How’m I gonna explain this away?”
Gabriel made a disgruntled noise from beside Sam, evidently not pleased with being moved in such an ungracious manner. “How’re you gonna explain wha—Oh. Oh, Jesus Christ, Sammy, you look like the victim of a murder! Or the murderer himself, if the source of all that blood ain’t specified.”
“And guess whose fault that is,” Sam said, flinching as he pulled a shard of glass out his skin.
“Did you get cut anywhere else?”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “No, I think my clothes protected the rest of me, and my other hand was stuck under you.” He glanced up, taking a moment to figure out what classroom they were in in the darkness. The plastic skeleton in the corner gave him the answer—they were in the bio lab. “You think you can find tweezers somewhere? And gauze?”
“Uh, right. Yeah. Sure.” Gabriel scrabbled to his feet and dashed around the room, opening and closing cupboards and cursing when he couldn’t find exactly what he was looking for. “Get off all that glass, will ya?” he called over his shoulder as he slammed another cupboard shut. “I thought you were s’posed to be the smart one.”
Sam inhaled deeply and got to his feet, crunching his way over to the sink and turning the knob, causing in a thin line of water to sputter out the faucet.
“Wait, shouldn’t you get the glass out your hand first?” Gabriel asked, suddenly beside Sam.
“It’d help if I could see what was going on,” Sam said, ignoring the stinging as the blood was washed away. “Go turn on the light?” he requested.
“But—” Gabriel cut himself off with a sound of surrender and set his armful of items on the lab desk, trudging off to flip the light switch. Sam blinked in the bright light, taking a couple seconds to orientate himself, then looked back down at his hand again.
“It looks even worse in the light,” Gabriel observed mildly from behind him.
The moment Sam moved his hand out from under the water’s stream, blood welled up in his palm in fat drops, merging to form rivulets that trickled off his skin into the basin. He allowed the water to wash the crimson liquid away again, studying the ragged tears in his skin. “I really hate you sometimes,” Sam told Gabriel.
“Nah, you don’t. But still—sucks to be you, buddy,” said Gabriel as he took Sam’s hand with surprising gentleness and peered down at it. “Your other hand’s still good, yeah?”
“I think so.”
“Right, okay. Time to utilize the skills I learned in that first-aid class I had in seventh grade.”
“Didn’t you bunk the entire thing?”
“I reserve the right to remain silent.” Gabriel picked a pair of tweezers out the pile of items on the counter and studied them briefly. “Let’s hope these haven’t been in any frogs recently,” he said as he carefully plucked a piece of glass out Sam’s palm.
“Ow,” Sam said, more out of annoyance toward the whole situation than actual pain.
“Shut up, big moose—meese?—like you can handle a little ouchie.”
Sam smirked down at him. “Says the kid who claims he’s having a heart attack when he’s got a stitch in his side.”
Gabriel paused in what he was doing to shoot Sam a glare. “Not cool, kid. That was a rough PE lesson for me, okay?”
“Mmm.”
Gabriel let out an annoyed huff of air at Sam’s smug response, but continued to remove the glass from Sam’s palm with a care that was almost loving—if the Winchester was looking at it that way. Which he most certainly was not.
“You’re just a big baby,” Gabriel said, voice soft as he set the tweezers down and dampened a piece of gauze to lightly wipe the excess blood on Sam’s skin away. He unrolled another piece of bandage and wound it around Sam’s hand, tucking the edge beneath the wrapping to secure it. “That didn’t exactly require a trip to the ER, right?”
“Thanks, Gabe,” Sam replied with a slight smile as he examined his neatly bandaged hand.
“No hay problema, Sammo. Having three kid brothers teaches a guy a little something-something about bumps and bruises.” He lifted his gaze and grinned at Sam, all bright caramel eyes and locks of displaced, golden hair falling in his face, and suddenly Sam was leaning down till their faces were only inches apart and goddamn Gabriel smelled good and—
“Ah, crap, who the hell left the lights on?”
The boys leapt apart at the sound of the gruff voice.
“Is that—”
“—the janitor? Yep.”
“Dammit,” Sam exclaimed, scrambling for the supply closet in the back of the room and tugging Gabriel along too. Just as he pulled door closed behind himself, the janitor stuck his head into the room.
“Damned kids leaving a mess like that…” growled the man as he shot the pile of items Sam and Gabriel had left on the counter a look of disgust. With a sigh, he tugged his baseball cap down, flipped off the light and shut the door again. There was a quiet click as he locked it, then the steady clunk-clunk of retreating footsteps.
Sam let out a quiet exhalation. Bobby hadn’t seen the shattered window.
A thought occurred.
“Why the hell is Bobby here?” he asked. “It’s, like, two A.M.!”
“Beats me,” Gabriel replied with a shrug. Then, he piped up again with a, “So, where were we?”
Sam froze completely, barely managing to get out a choked, “Uh,” as he felt Gabriel’s eyes on him. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean, getting my paper. Like we came here to do in the first place. What were you thinking of?” asked Gabriel skeptically as he pushed past Sam and pretty much skipped over to the classroom door. He leaned down and pressed his eye to the keyhole. “Good thing I know how to pick a lock, huh?” He straightened up and dug in his pocket, pulling out a pink hairpin to stick it in the keyhole and jimmy it around inside.
Sam let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding as he walked over to Gabriel. “I know how to pick a lock,” he said.
“’Course you do,” replied Gabriel absently, not looking up. “Your brother’s, like, a gang member or something, isn’t he?”
Sam swatted Gabriel’s head. “You know damn well he isn’t.” He leaned back against the wall and slid down, still barely short enough when he was sitting to look up at Gabriel. “What’s going in with him and your brother, anyway?”
Gabriel tried to turn the doorknob, swearing quietly when he was unsuccessful. He glanced at Sam. “Who, Cas? Dunno. Walked in on them making out the other day, but—”
“Wait, what? And you didn’t tell me?”
“Didn’t feel the need to. What’s one makeout session when they’re screwing?”
“Hold on, how do you know they’re—”
“Samster.” Gabriel shot him a look. “C’mon.”
“Okay, yeah, they’re screwing,” Sam conceded with a sigh. “What were you gonna say? ‘I think they’re screwing, but…’?”
“But, Cas has been extra dopey around Dean lately. Y’know, all doe-eyed with that stupid smile he always gets ’round him. So I don’t think it’s just friends with benefits—aha! Got the little bitch!” Gabriel bounced up again and triumphantly yanked the door open, prancing out into the hall.
With a roll of the eyes, Sam followed him around the corner to the History class. Just as he turned, Gabriel’s hand clamped down on his arm and pulled him into the History class. He looked at the other boy questioningly, about to ask what was going on, when Gabriel pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at a woman walking down the hall.
Sam ducked behind the door and peered around the corner to watch the woman walk past. Her short hair was ruffled and her shirt inside out. She glanced around as she slipped her shoe back on; as she did so, Sam caught a glimpse of her face.
“No way,” he breathed as she hurried away.
“Yes, way,” Gabriel affirmed from behind him. Sam could hear the grin in his voice. “Ms Mills and Bobby have been getting it on, kid. Kinda like our brothers!”
Sam released a snort of laughter and shoved Gabriel away. “Shut up!”
“It’s true!” Gabriel sang. “The only one ’round here who ain’t getting any is you, Samaroo!”
“And you,” Sam reminded Gabriel.
“How do you know?” grinned the other boy as he bounded over to the desk and yanked the drawer open, poking around inside.
“Because I know I’d never hear the end of it if you did.”
“Touché.” Gabriel paused and lifted up a piece of paper, studying it. Then, he went, “Ha!” and danced back over to Sam. “Lookit what I got!” he said, showing Sam the paper, which was entitled:
Jonathan Groff's Rear End and Why It's Beneficial to My Wellbeing: An Ode to the Booty by Gabriel Novak
Sam suppressed his laughter but didn’t manage to restrain his grin as he clapped slowly. “Congrats. Can I go home now?”
“Nah.” Gabriel folded the paper up and slid it into his pocket, then beamed up at Sam.
“Huh?”
“Not until we finish…” He grabbed the drawstrings of Sam’s hoodie and tugged him down so they were at eye level, “…what we started.”
Sam sucked in a quiet breath and stared at Gabriel, who watched him with easy golden eyes and that typical goofy grin of his, and suddenly it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to dip his head just that little bit further so their lips were brushing.
“C’mon, Samster,” murmured Gabriel, and Sam could feel that dumb smirk against his lips as the other boy’s fingers found their way into his hair and pulled him closer with that same gentleness from before, “you can do better than that.”
Sam released a slight huff of laughter and dropped his hands from their awkward hover above Gabriel’s waist, allowing his arms to drape loosely around his friend as he spun him around and pressed him back against the wall. He rested his forehead against Gabriel’s and smiled at him, matching his mischievous grin.
“I can do much better,” said Sam, “but I’d better be careful not to startle the virgin.”
Gabriel’s smirk dropped away. “Hey!” he squawked indignantly. “I ain’t no virg—”
Sam cut him off with a kiss, this one slow and soft and surprisingly... good. “Yeah,” he whispered. “You are.”
Gabriel seemed to contemplate this for a bit, winding a loose thread from Sam’s hoodie around his index finger. “Well, you ain’t a hundred percent straight, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe there’s a little wiggle room.”
“‘Wiggle room,’ he says after checking out that cute blonde guy at the salad bar for three months straight. Oh, and kissing his best friend. Who also happens to be male. Suuuure. Kid, you’re pretty damn bi.” Gabriel leaned up and brushed a light, chaste kiss to Sam’s cheek. “But on the bright side, I’m gay as hell.”
“Almost too gay to function.”
Gabriel whacked his chest. “Wouldja stop quoting Mean Girls already? You saw it six months ago!”
“It’s a great movie. And who got me to watch it in the first place?” Sam asked.
“Okay, yeah, but at least I don’t quote it at every opportunity I get.”
“You wear pink every Wednesday!”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” said Gabriel slyly, grabbing Sam’s face and pulling him into another kiss.
And that’s when the police sirens went off.
Dean Winchester did not have time for this shit.
He and Cas were right in the middle of something really freaking amazing when his phone started trilling like a demented bird, and he told Cas, “Let’s ignore it,” but of course Cas was all, “Answer the phone, Dean, it may be important.”
So he answered the phone only to have his shitstick brother tell him, “Me and Gabe are down at the station.” And Dean asked why in the name of god were they down at the police station, had Sam saved a kitten from a burning tree or something, and Sam laughed nervously and told him that actually, no, they’d broken into the school and had been caught because the principal had seen them (after she’d been making out with the janitor, apparently).
And before Dean got the opportunity to say anything, Castiel’s shitstick brother helpfully added that they had been sucking face when the police had arrived.
Then Dean told Sam he deserved to spend the rest of the night in a holding cell but there was no way he was going to leave him and Gabriel alone together so he’d pick him up in fifteen minutes.
Dean ended the call and looked at Cas and was suddenly even more pissed off that they wouldn’t be able to pick up where they’d left off because jesus christ was his boyfriend sexy with that messy dark hair and those bright blue eyes and planes of toned muscle, and he explained to him that their brothers were vandals and apparently also gay even though that wasn’t much of a surprise and that now they had to pick the two assholes up from the police station because they’d been idiotic enough to get themselves arrested.
“I mean, if you’re gonna break in somewhere, at least be smart enough not to get yourself caught!” Dean finished off with a growl of frustration.
Cas gently pushed Dean back and climbed on top of him like a big cat, trailing a line of lazy kisses down his neck. “They’re very foolish, Dean,” he soothed, nipping at the Winchester’s collarbone.
“Mmm,” agreed Dean but he was a bit too blissed out in that moment to care because holy crap Cas smelled good and whatever he was doing with his lips and teeth and tongue and hands was enough to make Dean feel dizzy with pleasure.
“Christ, Cas,” Dean groaned, dragging a hand up Castiel’s back to tangle his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair. He tugged gently, lifting Cas’ face up so he could capture Castiel’s lips between his own for a painstakingly short moment before pulling away. “Stop. Distracting. Me,” Dean enunciated as Cas gave him one of his rare smirks, that mischievous, Cheshire Cat smile that reminded Dean, if nothing else did, that he was related to the sly Gabriel.
Cas crawled off Dean and stretched, feline-like, his lean muscles rippling in the dim light. Dean couldn’t stop himself from leaning over to kiss between Cas’ shoulders, inhaling that earthy scent that was so purely him.
“Perhaps we should go collect our brothers,” mused Castiel as he got up, leaving Dean in the bed. Dean grunted, dissatisfied by being abandoned like that, then rolled out of bed too. He slung his arms around Cas from behind, peppering kisses into the crook of his neck.
Cas turned his face to nose at Dean’s cheek. “I believe it’s my turn to tell you to stop distracting me.”
“Hmm,” Dean mumbled into Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m gonna make those little asswipes pay for interrupting us.”
“It would be my absolute pleasure to aid you in that attempt.”