Chapter Text
“Hey sweetheart.”
“Hey back atcha.”
“You in the mood for pizza?”
“Not that hungry.”
“For food, anyway?”
“…what’s that supposed to mean?”
So that’s how you ended up in bed with Dean Winchester. It was just that fucking easy.
You’d always sworn that the son of a bitch player wouldn’t get the best of you.
But you were tired, and it had been a long week.
Long week of killing shit, and being thrown around by the shit you were trying to kill, and the hardest of all, trying and failing at getting a moment alone with Castiel.
And yes, Sam was a great ear when you needed to talk about all your touchy-feely crap, but if you spilled anything about your little crush, he’d blab to Dean right away, and it would get around to the Child through some awkward, untimely fashion.
So, while he was flitting around doing intel and whatever the crap he was up to when he wasn’t beaming in and out like Scotty, you’d sit here stewing in your own juices.
Which, evidently, were bubbling over.
“I bet you’ve never had it this good.”
You weren’t sure if this was sexy-talk or his own ego-stroking, but it was distracting from the enjoying the actual experience.
“Come on, (y/n), I want to make you squeal.”
Oh, ew.
“Say my name.”
It felt good, in a twisted kind of way. The movements, his skin against yours, the pressure lessening, if not from your heart than elsewhere.
“Say it.”
“Cas!!”
So that was a booboo.
“So she said-“
“Yeah.”
“And did he-“
“Mhm.”
“…damn.”
Sam waved over the waitress for another round of shots, as Dean nursed the beer he was toying with in between.
“That must’ve been a bullet to the ego.” Sam sympathized.
“Can’t say I ever expected that to happen.”
“Especially from (y/n)?”
“She resisted my charms for long enough. Didn’t expect to ever check that off the bucket list.”
“And, that… attitude is why.”
“Well, it’s over, anyway. Punched that hole easily enough.”
His head slammed into the table a second later. Waitresses turned, but Sam waved them away with a ‘he deserved that one’ look.
“A bit harsh, (y/n).”
“Well, Sam. I punched that a-hole easily enough.”
“So you’re not injured-“
“No.”
“But you screamed-“
“It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“…okay.”
You looked up at the adorable idiot from under a stack of blankets as he paced back and forth slowly.
If you weren’t so mortified you’d be falling on the floor laughing at the image of Dean busting out the door with half his butt still hanging out his pants.
Also falling on the floor would reveal your not-so-impressive abs. And boobs.
“So I’ll see you later?”
“…” He darted his eyes around, looking everywhere but at you.
“After I put my clothes on?”
He blinked, or maybe you blinked; either way he was gone.
“So, should we just leave him here? Unconscious?”
“Sit down, Sam. I want a drink. And I’m not doing it alone.”
He let out a chuckle and moved his brother’s face out of the way so the waitress could put the shots down.
“So you wanna fill me in, then?”
“Long version or short version?”
“Start with the short.”
“I like Cas and I fucked Dean.”
“Hmm, maybe elaborate a little.”
Alone in the hotel room now, Castiel sat down heavily on the couch and stared at the bed where he’d found the two of you.
An absurd thought crossed his mind as he replayed the image of his two friends’ bodies mashed together; that this was the first time you had called for him when you weren’t alone.
Every other time you’d had some problem that needed fixing, some wounds that needed healing.
Not that you’d have another reason to ask for him otherwise.
He’d just hoped, somehow, that you’d grow to see him more than a soldier in this war.
But being winsome was not an angel’s nature; so he’d kept his nose to the grindstone.
And now this?
Making him party to some perverse game of sexual frustration?
Drawing him in to watch an utter betrayal of a hope that he’d held so close?
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever disengage the beloved sound of your voice from the heartache of seeing you in another man’s arms.
He needed a drink.
“Evening, friends.”
You looked up and choked on your sip as the Holy One stumbled into your table.
“Uh, normally you wait until you get to the bar before getting smashed, Cas.”
“I decided to try out the minibar first.”
“What?! That’s gonna cost a fucking fortune!” Those were Dean’s first words as he came to; you hopped off the stool and grabbed your coat.
“Guess I’ll head back and assess the damage then.”
“Take Tipsy with you, (y/n).”
“No!” You bit out sharply, giving Sam a warning look. He merely pushed Castiel in your direction as a response.
“Come on. You’re the designated driver.”
“We walked!”
“Well, Dean and I need some alone time. Winchester bonding and all.”
“You do that by shooting. And stabbing.”
“Go.” You threw a dirty look at Sam and Dean, but managed to keep Cas from face-planting onto the linoleum as you dragged your asses out of there.
“I would think that angels would have more tolerance.”
“Can you not yell? My head hurts enough as it is.” Evidently hammered Castiel was grumpy Castiel.
“I wasn’t yelling. Now hold still. Let me ice that bump on your forehead.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten it in the first place if you’d kept a better hold on me.”
“You banged your head on the door Cas. Before I could open it.”
“Still your fault.” He grumbled, twisting his neck away from your hand.
“Just let me take care of you for once.”
He let out a gravelly sigh, but sat still enough for you to smooth his hair out of his face and apply the cold washcloth.
“I take it we accidentally scarred you for life.” Now that you couldn’t avoid him, you might as well be straight up about it.
“Can’t say I’ve ever walked into anything like that in all my years.”
“Sorry about that, again.” You looked down, wondering what the pure-hearted angel must think of you.
He stared at the ceiling, keeping his arms limp by his side, so you continued holding the icepack to his face for him. It felt nice to finally feel his skin.
Silence lapsed for a while, before he spoke again.
“What I don’t understand is why you called me there in the first place.”
Your cheeks colored and you wondered if he was just playing naïve.
“It was an accident, Cas.” If he wanted you to admit something, you weren’t going to play. You’d revealed enough of yourself tonight. In more ways than one.
“…did it hurt, then?”
“…what?!?!”
“Is that why you called?”
“…of course not!”
~~~~~~~~~~~
He couldn’t really be that daft.
He nodded quickly, causing the ice pack to slip out of your hand. You reached down to grab it, but he stopped you.
He then placed both hands on your shoulders, and looked you in the eye.
You felt your heart stop.
“So you called me in so I could watch the woman I love be screwed by another man?”
You stared at him, not even feeling your jaw drop.
Maybe the accusatory tone and preposterous assumption should have been in the front of your mind.
But you were frozen on ‘woman I love.’
He didn’t take your silence well.
“And by my closest friend, no less?!”
“Cas… I-“
“If you did not return my sentiments, you could have said so. This?! This is beyond the pale.”
“What-“ You grasped at his words, a knot of anxiety and hurt twisting in your stomach.
“How can you not be disgusted with yourself?”
You felt something along the lines of a bullet to the chest; but this was no hunt.
“I didn’t know how you felt, Cas.”
You had so many rebuttals and indignations to express; but somehow this was what came first.
He stared at you impassively, and you steeled yourself for some accusatory judgement.
Perhaps this was the price for falling for an angel; was the absurd thought that popped into your mind as silence permeated the room.
Finally, he nodded briskly once more. “Very well.”
You crossed your arms now, the full sting of all his words weighing onto you.
“In that case, I apologize for my previous allegations.”
You narrowed your eyes at him; he didn’t sound very sorry.
“I guess I should find someone who won’t fall into bed with the first man who looks at her.”
You inhaled sharply, feeling your palm raise into the air.
But he turned around, unaware of the social customs of facing your weaknesses and getting slapped in the face when you deserved it. Just like he didn’t understand sleeping with someone didn’t mean anything.
“I thought you didn’t even get along. You always said you hated him.”
“Right now, Castiel, I hate you more.”
“You sure you want to go for round two?”
“Hey, you didn’t even get to finish last time.”
“Well, I was rudely interrupted last time, wasn’t I?”
Maybe Dean’s pride healed faster than yours. Maybe shagging you just meant that little to him.
The reason didn’t really matter; you deserved to have some fun, especially if you were going to be vilified for it.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be asking him to make an appearance this time. Accidental or otherwise.”
“Wouldn’t matter. He’s been AWOL since Tuesday. You wouldn’t happen to know why, would you?”
“Stop stalling and take off your pants, Dean.”
As he unzipped your dress, you thought about how Cas’s absence had affected you. Not really, as it turns out. Maybe you were mad enough to be glad to be away from him.
Maybe you were numbed by the cold and the fire.
Still, the thought occurred to you to call for him again, this time when you were riding Dean like a jockey.
He might even show, considering you hadn’t spoken his name since then.
But Dean’s lips were on your neck now, and you decided you’d focus this time, and enjoy him for him.
And a little part of you suspected the truth; that Cas was watching at that very moment.