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To Be Loved By Angels (or; Lucky, Lucky Human) - Supernatural - Dean Winchester/Castiel - Words: 1,115
Written for race_the_ace's St. Patrick's Day Challenge. Prompt: Getting Lucky
Summary: Even after all this time, Dean never anticipated the way Cas would pop in and out of his dreams.
Content Notes: None.
Author Notes: I blame this story for making me google image search the phrase 'Castiel shirtless' in order to determine whether or not an angel would have chest hair.
On AO3: To Be Loved By Angels
Dean sat back, the velvety fabric of the seat supporting his shoulders perfectly. Best seat in the house. He glanced around, his lips quirking as he saw the edges of the room disappearing into darkness. It was the only seat in the house.
The lights in the room lowered and Dean returned his attention to the stage in front of him. It was almost too dark to see anything at all, but he could just discern the edges of the stage. The lights surrounding the edge of the stage slowly illuminated, the silhouettes of two women appearing. They weren't wearing much, their bare slender legs disappearing up into tight, short skirts; the fabric of their tops was just as tight.
Dean shifted, his tongue flicking out unconsciously to wet his lower lip. He tipped his head to the side as he watched the two women move to music that he was only just aware of. He smiled and let his head tip slightly to the side as he watched, his eyes drinking in their dance as their shirts were unbuttoned and fell to the floor. Both women were his type; there weren't many women who weren't. But these were ideal; long wavy hair, expressive faces with bright eyes, curvy figures with the confidence and knowledge of how to move.
Something fluttered at the edge of Dean's mind and he found his eyes drawn to the dark empty space of the stage that was between the two women; women who were wearing less and less by the moment. There was obviously more to the show with that empty space; the main act had yet to appear. Dean had seen enough of this type of show to know how it worked.
Sure enough, a moment later a spotlight shined down from above, brighter than any light in the room and Dean lost track of the two dancing women completely. The music had stopped and all that was left was the sound of footsteps moving closer, shoes hitting the stage floor with a swift confident stride. He could make out the dark form of someone approaching and Dean leaned forward. The two women were practically perfect, he had no idea what could top that. Three of them, maybe?
When the figure stepped into the light, Dean's heart thudded hard and he swallowed once before allowing disappointment to wash out any other feelings. "Cas. We've talked about private dream space, right?"
Castiel locked his eyes on Dean, his expression serious with just a hint of uncertainty. "I have brought you a gift."
Dean raised an eyebrow, thinking that the best gift would have been to have some private time in his own dreams for a few hours; or at least that would be the best gift that was possibly reasonable to expect. "So you're going to make the girls come back? More of them?" he asked, aiming for a combination of hopeful and a little sleazy.
"No." Castiel replied.
Before Dean had a chance to even think up another request, Castiel dropped his distinctive tan coat to the floor, raising his chin ever so slightly and looking directly at Dean. Dean's mouth had dropped open about the same time Castiel had dropped his coat.
Castiel's fingers reached up to his tie and unknotted it, pulling it away from his throat with an exaggerated motion.
Dean swallowed hard and licked his lips again, aware that Cas had yet to look away from him. "Cas, what are you doing?" His voice came out rougher than he'd anticipated and he cleared his throat as discretely as possible. He dropped his eyes away from the spectacle for just a moment but couldn't help looking back up. Cas was unbuttoning his shirt now, his fingers methodically making their way down the crisp white fabric.
"Cas," Dean tried one last time before realizing that he had no idea what to say. Finally he just sat back in his seat, his head tipping back enough to leave his lips parted and his eyes fixed on the very beguiling image that Cas was presenting.
Castiel's white button down shirt joined the coat on the floor of the stage, the white hot spotlight illuminating the rarely seen skin of his arms. He ran his arms down his chest, his hands passing each other before latching onto the bottom of his white t-shirt and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion.
Dean blinked, his legs dropping slightly apart as he wiped the palms of his hands against the rough fabric of his jeans. He had never in his wildest dreams, with the apparent exception of this dream, imagined that Cas would have a perfectly smooth chest. His torso was surprising strong, muscles moving just underneath the skin without being overly defined.
When Cas bent down to untie his shoes, Dean managed to shake himself free of the near trance that had settled over him when Cas had started stripping. He got to his feet, his legs feeling a little like they might not support his weight or move him in the direction he wanted to go. He made it to the edge of the stage, the edge pressing against his waist as he reached out and managed to skim his fingertips along the back of the angel's hand.
Cas rose his eyes again to meet Dean's. After a moment he went down onto his knees and slid to the edge of the stage to where Dean was standing. Carefully, as if Cas was handling something that was made of delicate crystal, Cas cupped his hands around Dean's jaw and leaned in. The kiss was the barest touch of their lips and Dean's eyes fell closed. The spotlight had followed Cas to the edge of the stage and had surrounded both Dean and Cas, like they were the only beings that existed and the room and world beyond was just a vast illusion.
When Dean's eyes opened, still caught in the sudden peace of the warmth and the light, he realized that he was back in the hotel room. The light was from the lamp on the nightstand that was nestled between the two beds, and the warmth was from the blanket that Sam had tossed over him.
"Have a good nap?" Sam asked, looking up from his laptop, a pile of papers and books surrounding him on the other bed.
Dean closed his eyes again, the image of Cas leaning forward and looking into his eyes still vivid. "Something like that," he mumbled. He rolled onto his side and allowed himself to drift back to sleeping, willing his dream to start from where it had left off.
Written for race_the_ace's St. Patrick's Day Challenge. Prompt: Getting Lucky
Summary: Even after all this time, Dean never anticipated the way Cas would pop in and out of his dreams.
Content Notes: None.
Author Notes: I blame this story for making me google image search the phrase 'Castiel shirtless' in order to determine whether or not an angel would have chest hair.
On AO3: To Be Loved By Angels
Dean sat back, the velvety fabric of the seat supporting his shoulders perfectly. Best seat in the house. He glanced around, his lips quirking as he saw the edges of the room disappearing into darkness. It was the only seat in the house.
The lights in the room lowered and Dean returned his attention to the stage in front of him. It was almost too dark to see anything at all, but he could just discern the edges of the stage. The lights surrounding the edge of the stage slowly illuminated, the silhouettes of two women appearing. They weren't wearing much, their bare slender legs disappearing up into tight, short skirts; the fabric of their tops was just as tight.
Dean shifted, his tongue flicking out unconsciously to wet his lower lip. He tipped his head to the side as he watched the two women move to music that he was only just aware of. He smiled and let his head tip slightly to the side as he watched, his eyes drinking in their dance as their shirts were unbuttoned and fell to the floor. Both women were his type; there weren't many women who weren't. But these were ideal; long wavy hair, expressive faces with bright eyes, curvy figures with the confidence and knowledge of how to move.
Something fluttered at the edge of Dean's mind and he found his eyes drawn to the dark empty space of the stage that was between the two women; women who were wearing less and less by the moment. There was obviously more to the show with that empty space; the main act had yet to appear. Dean had seen enough of this type of show to know how it worked.
Sure enough, a moment later a spotlight shined down from above, brighter than any light in the room and Dean lost track of the two dancing women completely. The music had stopped and all that was left was the sound of footsteps moving closer, shoes hitting the stage floor with a swift confident stride. He could make out the dark form of someone approaching and Dean leaned forward. The two women were practically perfect, he had no idea what could top that. Three of them, maybe?
When the figure stepped into the light, Dean's heart thudded hard and he swallowed once before allowing disappointment to wash out any other feelings. "Cas. We've talked about private dream space, right?"
Castiel locked his eyes on Dean, his expression serious with just a hint of uncertainty. "I have brought you a gift."
Dean raised an eyebrow, thinking that the best gift would have been to have some private time in his own dreams for a few hours; or at least that would be the best gift that was possibly reasonable to expect. "So you're going to make the girls come back? More of them?" he asked, aiming for a combination of hopeful and a little sleazy.
"No." Castiel replied.
Before Dean had a chance to even think up another request, Castiel dropped his distinctive tan coat to the floor, raising his chin ever so slightly and looking directly at Dean. Dean's mouth had dropped open about the same time Castiel had dropped his coat.
Castiel's fingers reached up to his tie and unknotted it, pulling it away from his throat with an exaggerated motion.
Dean swallowed hard and licked his lips again, aware that Cas had yet to look away from him. "Cas, what are you doing?" His voice came out rougher than he'd anticipated and he cleared his throat as discretely as possible. He dropped his eyes away from the spectacle for just a moment but couldn't help looking back up. Cas was unbuttoning his shirt now, his fingers methodically making their way down the crisp white fabric.
"Cas," Dean tried one last time before realizing that he had no idea what to say. Finally he just sat back in his seat, his head tipping back enough to leave his lips parted and his eyes fixed on the very beguiling image that Cas was presenting.
Castiel's white button down shirt joined the coat on the floor of the stage, the white hot spotlight illuminating the rarely seen skin of his arms. He ran his arms down his chest, his hands passing each other before latching onto the bottom of his white t-shirt and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion.
Dean blinked, his legs dropping slightly apart as he wiped the palms of his hands against the rough fabric of his jeans. He had never in his wildest dreams, with the apparent exception of this dream, imagined that Cas would have a perfectly smooth chest. His torso was surprising strong, muscles moving just underneath the skin without being overly defined.
When Cas bent down to untie his shoes, Dean managed to shake himself free of the near trance that had settled over him when Cas had started stripping. He got to his feet, his legs feeling a little like they might not support his weight or move him in the direction he wanted to go. He made it to the edge of the stage, the edge pressing against his waist as he reached out and managed to skim his fingertips along the back of the angel's hand.
Cas rose his eyes again to meet Dean's. After a moment he went down onto his knees and slid to the edge of the stage to where Dean was standing. Carefully, as if Cas was handling something that was made of delicate crystal, Cas cupped his hands around Dean's jaw and leaned in. The kiss was the barest touch of their lips and Dean's eyes fell closed. The spotlight had followed Cas to the edge of the stage and had surrounded both Dean and Cas, like they were the only beings that existed and the room and world beyond was just a vast illusion.
When Dean's eyes opened, still caught in the sudden peace of the warmth and the light, he realized that he was back in the hotel room. The light was from the lamp on the nightstand that was nestled between the two beds, and the warmth was from the blanket that Sam had tossed over him.
"Have a good nap?" Sam asked, looking up from his laptop, a pile of papers and books surrounding him on the other bed.
Dean closed his eyes again, the image of Cas leaning forward and looking into his eyes still vivid. "Something like that," he mumbled. He rolled onto his side and allowed himself to drift back to sleeping, willing his dream to start from where it had left off.
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