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Mission: Unexpected	By : mistresswhimsy Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2366 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Nothing about Supernatural is mine, everything belongs to its rightful owner. I make no money from the show or this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Mission: Unexpected
- 1
Despite his shocking ineptitude when it came to most things human, Castiel was not unintelligent, nor was he completely naive. It had taken him some time, and a good deal of effort and embarrassment – he didn't even want to think about the sixteen year old girl who'd followed him around the bookstore as he attempted to study the subject of romance – but he'd finally been able to learn the basics of human courtship rituals. He'd waited for the right moment, for Dean to want him there for no reason other than his presence, and the night had gone more beautifully than he'd dared to hope.
Now, however, there was another hurdle to clear. In his effort to learn the acceptable behavior during a date, and then procuring said date without alerting Dean to the fact, he had completely neglected the issue of sex. Well, in a manner of speaking. He had indeed wanted to approach Dean about the matter, as it had been bothering him since he discovered he had intentionally destroyed his chances with Chastity, but he hadn't thought it through. It hadn't occurred to him that Dean might actually want to have sex with him. He'd hoped, certainly, but he'd never dared think of it as an inevitable fact. When his hopes had actually transpired, Castiel had used his intimate knowledge of Dean's body to his advantage, and he'd let a little of his 'mojo', as Dean liked to call it, into Dean's soul. If Dean's reactions had been any indication, Castiel hadn't performed poorly. He should be pleased with himself, but he was far from it.
Sex, Castiel thought as he once again attempted to click and enter the 'internet', was something humans excelled at. They learned to make each other feel good, or even themselves, without any supernatural assistance. There was no reason he couldn't learn, no reason he couldn't hone the skill to an art form and leave Dean utterly at his mercy with nothing more than his touches and his knowledge.
Single clicks to the icon had yet to produce results, so Castiel tried double clicking, and sighed with relief when the search page appeared on the screen. He really didn't want to have to ask the library attendant how to open the internet.
For several moments Castiel sat perfectly still, his fingers hovering above the keyboard as he tried to think of the most appropriate search. Finally, he simply typed, “sex” into the search engine and pressed enter.
Immediately, a strange picture with a stop sign appeared on the screen, stating that the search he had entered was blocked. It occurred to him that children had access to these computers, and that this might be some form of protection to keep them from viewing content they were not ready to see. That, or it was designed to frustrate falling angels on a mission, but he highly doubted it was the latter.
As Castiel flew from the library a chuckle wrapped around his mind, waiting to be born when he landed on the physical plane; his last thought had been such a Dean thing to think. The hunter had invaded Castiel's being in every manner possible, maybe even in some that weren't. Angels were warriors, yes, but they were also lovers, and when an angel fell in love, it was in a way few humans experienced. Dean had experienced it, in a manner of sorts – the love he felt for Sam was like nothing Castiel had seen in his entire existence. It was what had made his soul continue to shine, even in the Pit. It was the rare deal made in love, and it was the rarer soul that kept its humanity even in the midst of torture both inflicted and felt.
The chuckle manifested instead as a sigh as Castiel landed in a seemingly random city in New Jersey. Castiel could spend the rest of eternity explaining to Dean that what he did in the Pit was survival, that he shouldn't feel as torn apart inside over it as he did, but Dean would never listen.
It turned out the location wasn't as random as he'd originally presumed; Dean and Sam were nearby, one town over, likely working a job. It was really all they did. Castiel would have to sit them down at some point and explain to them that it was okay to have a life outside of hunting. And this was coming from him.
People were beginning to stare at him oddly as they passed him, so Castiel started walking, contemplating his next move. He supposed there were books on the subject – it would also be possible for him to procure a computer that was unprotected – but now that he thought about it, perhaps it would be better to go straight to the source.
Castiel winced.
That meant he had to deal directly with people.
It wasn't that Castiel didn't like humanity. In fact, he liked them, even loved them, far more than most of his siblings. The problem was that he still had a very poor handle on everyday human interaction, and while Dean and Sam found it – for the most part – highly amusing, they knew what he was and why he acted the way he did. Most people he tried to interact with expected him to behave very differently, and seemed confused by his...well, confusion. Still, the angel was nothing if not persistent, so he continued walking until he came across a drinking establishment.
Once inside, Castiel sat down on a stool at the bar and tried to recall exactly what kind of beer Dean drank, just so he would have something to tell the bartender coming towards him. In the end he realized Dean didn't drink a particular kind, so he asked the woman now staring at him expectantly what was good. She was older, with a stern, wide face and graying hair, and she reminded him a little of Ellen. The thought made a pang of sorrow ring painfully in his chest; he'd liked her a good deal.
“Depends on what you like. You into light beer or dark beer?”
“I don't know,” Castiel replied helplessly.
To his surprise, the bartender chuckled. “Tell you what, hun, I'll bring you one of each, and you pick which one you like best and just pay for that one, okay?”
Castiel nodded gratefully and tried to smile. Dean was always telling him his smile was too small, but he must have done it correctly because the woman smiled back before stepping away to pull two beers from a cooler. She popped the caps and set them down in front of him, watching with an oddly intent gaze as Castiel tried first the light, then the dark.
“I prefer the dark,” Castiel said after a moment of contemplation. It had, he thought, more flavor than the light.
“Alright-y then.” The bartender flashed him a genuine smile and took the other beer, knocking half the contents back in one go. Yes, he thought with another, unbidden smile, she definitely reminded him of Ellen.
“Forgive me if this is too personal, hun, but you look like you're looking for something.” The woman – Castiel could no longer resist, he scanned her mind and discovered her name was Jenny, she was single, and he reminded her of a young man she had coveted as a teen – leaned her hip against the bar, meeting his gaze with ice blue eyes that offered an outlet while still being willing to drop the whole subject and walk away.
“I am,” Castiel replied. “But I am uncertain of how my request will be received.”
Jenny chuckled and knocked back the rest of the beer. Castiel noted with interest that it seemed to take a very specific type of woman to chuckle, and he suspected it had something to do with a certain kind of toughness that seemed to reside in female hunters and women who lived among rough company. “Go ahead, lay it on me.”
Castiel took a long drink of his beer, letting the words order themselves into a manner he truly hoped wouldn't confuse Jenny. “I've been...pursuing someone, and I recently succeeded in gaining their affections, but I am...inexperienced in the area of sex.”
Jenny paused, eying him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “You lookin' to have someone teach you? You know, hands on?”
“No!” Castiel surprised himself with the vehemence behind the word. He didn't want anyone else to touch him. Not ever. And he meant that literally: when Dean was finally resting in Heaven, Castiel would simply follow him there, and if his siblings thought they could stop him, they were vastly mistaken. “No, I simply thought that perhaps someone would be willing to discuss it with me.”
The suspicion faded from Jenny's eyes, and she leaned forward, resting an elbow now against the top of the bar. “That's kinda sweet. Seems like more often than not guys are more concerned about their own pleasure than their partner's. What kind of girl is she?”
Castiel found it genuinely baffling that people seemed to assume that other people were automatically with the opposite sex, especially in this century. “He, actually.”
“Oh, sorry.” The information didn't seem to phase her at all. “Well, that's a whole different arena. See, if you were with a girl, I'd tell ya to talk to another girl, but if it's a guy, well...I'd say you're already equipped to figure out what might make him tick.”
Tick? Why in the world would he want to make Dean tick? Wasn't that function reserved for a clock? Castiel only just bit back the question. Dean would understand, Dean would explain it to him. “How exactly am I...equipped?”
Jenny chuckled. “You both got dicks, don't ya? Just...fool around with yourself, see what makes you feel good, then try it on him. Make sure he knows it's okay to tell you if he doesn't like something.” She shrugged, then straightened as a few new customers came inside. “Beer's on the house, hun.” She winked at him, then threw over her shoulder as she walked away, “Have fun!”
...*...
Castiel left the bar feeling even less certain than when he'd walked in. Fool around with himself. In context, Castiel could only assume she meant masturbation, and that was something Castiel had only briefly considered before. It had been a long wait for Dean, and there had been moments when Castiel was certain he could not contain his desire, but he'd felt that he would somehow cheapen the potential first time that Dean touched him by touching himself. Now, however, he no longer had that problem. In fact, the only problem he was currently faced with was where he might perform this activity in private.
Speaking of context...Castiel smiled to himself. Tick. Of course. A clock metaphor for arousal. The angel felt ridiculously pleased with himself for deducing that on his own, and thought perhaps he was finally beginning to get a handle on human subtlety.
The angel launched himself into flight, reveling in the sensation. He was all too certain that a time would come when he was no longer able to enjoy it. He flew without direction, and when he couldn't think of a particular place he wanted to go he began to search Dean's memories. The majority of the hunter's history was kept in a special place in his mind, missing only a few bits and pieces that Dean had been unwilling to give him. Castiel felt occasionally guilty for not telling Dean that he had the memories, but he hadn't realized at first – and later, when Dean showed such hostility towards him, been unwilling to tell him – that Dean didn't remember their flight from Hell. Perhaps because Castiel himself did, with almost frightening clarity. That, he thought, was where this had really begun.
When Castiel had accepted the mission to save the Righteous Man, he had still been so much Heaven's little soldier – obedient to a fault, and he hadn't given a second thought to what the mission might do to him. He hadn't thought of the fire licking at his wings, or the screams of so many damned souls crying out for salvation. He hadn't thought that he might once stop and stare around him in horror, wondering why God would allow such an atrocity to exist, because surely there must be a way to save them. The first doubt. Castiel knew that Dean thought he was the cause of Castiel's doubt, and while Dean had definitely had a hand in it, Castiel himself had, in the end, been the cause of his own fall.
Castiel landed without paying attention to exactly where. He remembered finding Dean, forty years later – far too late, but hell was vast and they'd hidden Dean deep within the darkest corner. He remembered the shock rolling through him when he saw a purely human soul shining with all its glory, surrounded by the oldest and the worst as they attempted with every shred of evil within them to corrupt it. Dean's soul had been wounded, yes, so deeply he still carried the scars, but it had never allowed so much as a wisp of demonic essence into itself. That, Castiel thought, was why Dean had fought so hard against the angel as he'd gripped him and tucked him in against his grace, trying to shield him from Hell, from the torture he'd endured for too long. Because the humanity in him had been so certain it didn't deserve to be rescued. That was why Dean had screamed and raged and finally pleaded with the angel to save the others, anyone but him, and Castiel nearly had. He'd nearly taken as many souls as he could carry without losing Dean, until he'd realized there was no way for him to take even one extra soul without releasing his precious charge.
Castiel closed his eyes. He could remember the smell – or rather the impression of a smell, forced into a being that wasn't meant to experience such things – acrid and rotting, and he remembered the burn into every part of his grace, but what he remembered most clearly was Dean's soul realizing that Castiel could do nothing to save the others. It had settled deeply into the grace shielding it, burrowing so far into Castiel that it should have felt invasive rather than welcome, and sighed forgiveness directly into Castiel's being.
Now that Castiel thought about it, he was almost certain that was the moment he'd begun to love Dean with everything he was. Thinking further, he realized his later threats to throw Dean back into the Pit had been a very human defense mechanism against such feelings. When Uriel had suggested it, Castiel had come so close to smiting his sibling for even thinking to hurt Dean that he'd been forced to start coming to terms with how he felt for the human.
It was somewhat shocking he hadn't accepted it sooner, but the journey from Hell had been different, somehow. Soul and grace had leaned against each other in an attempt to survive long enough to escape, and in the ten years it took Castiel to find a way out, he and Dean had shared most of their lives with each other. The soul of Dean was far less guarded than the man himself, and it had freely shown him all his favorite memories of Sammy, the rare good times with their father, his best hunts, his favorite music, his first gun, his first time with a woman, locations that held a special place in his memory. In return, Castiel had shared great moments in history that he'd witnessed from above, loves that had made him secretly sick with envy, and snippets of Heaven that suddenly seemed bland in comparison to the warmth in Dean's memories. Sharing had been comforting for both human and angel, and at the time Castiel had refused to think beyond that comfort.
It was strange, though, that Dean could not remember their time together when he remembered the rest of Hell so completely. Strange that he couldn't remember the strength they'd taken from each other, or the time in year nine when Dean's soul had begun to belt out the words to Highway To Hell, only he'd changed several of the lyrics – mainly 'to' had become 'from,' and he'd reworded an entire verse to include the angel – and Castiel had tried his best to sing along with him, tripping over the strange words and making Dean laugh in the process.
Stranger still, Dean could no longer hear his true voice or see his true form.
Definitely troubling, Castiel thought, but it was an issue he would tackle later. One hurdle at a time.
Opening his eyes, Castiel found himself standing in a meadow, the surrounding area thick with trees. The sun was setting, the day dimming into the black of night, and in the grass little, flickering lights had begun to wink in and out. The angel smiled; he knew this place. It was one Dean held in his memory as a particular favorite, a forest in Maryland where they'd hunted and killed a Wendigo. Dean had been sixteen, and after he and his Father had killed the creature, Dean had taken Sam to this exact spot. The brothers had sat under a tree not far from where Castiel stood, Sammy tucked in safe and warm against Dean's side as they watched the fireflies slowly rise from the grass to begin their mating dance.
Castiel stood very still, watching as the world darkened and the fireflies appeared from the grass, replacing the sun with their twinkling shine. It occurred to him that there was not one single human within a hundred miles of this place, and no predators would dare bother him. His thoughts slipped willingly from his time in Hell to the reason he had originally come here. With his gaze still on the light of the fireflies, distant and glazed as though in a trance, Castiel slowly shrugged his shoulders back, letting his coat slither to the ground. The black suit jacket followed, as did his shirt and tie, and the angel stood there a long moment, watching the firefly light dance across his bared chest. It felt strange to be undressing by himself, yet oddly exciting at the same time. He lifted a hand and trailed fingertips experimentally over his abs, dragging them upwards to brush across his nipples, remembering when Dean had done this and how electrifying it felt. Was Dean sensitive there, too? He made a mental note to find out as he laid down in the grass and reached for his fly.
Though Castiel had intended to leave his pants on, it suddenly seemed ridiculous to do so here in the midst of nature. He kicked off his shoes and removed both pants and boxers, leaving him naked in the glow of the fireflies. He was already half hard over the strange excitement of doing this to himself, and a light brush of fingers and the thought of Dean watching him, sitting under that same tree but with his eyes on the angel rather than the insects, had Castiel harder than diamonds in seconds. Would Dean like to watch? Castiel pictured him crawling forward, eyes locked on Castiel's hand as it wrapped around his already aching cock, green gaze hungry and feral in a way that gave him the air of a predator. The angel's whole body shuddered, his hips rocking up into the warm tunnel of his fist. He brought his other hand up and toyed with his nipples again, rubbing small circles at first, then taking one between thumb and forefinger and pinching when the pressure wasn't enough. The action caused a sweet pain that made Castiel gasp. He tossed back his head, mouth open around a quiet moan, hips stuttering without rhythm. In his mind Dean grinned and ran a hand up his leg, drawing teasing circles on the angel's inner thigh.
“Dean!” Castiel abandoned his chest and brought his hand down to cup his balls, moaning again as he tried rolling them between his fingers. It was Dean's fingers in his mind, massaging gently before probing further, and Castiel released a shout into the firefly-lit night as his own finger brushed across his entrance. Bolts of pleasure shivered up his spine, licking deep in his belly and tingling in the soles of his feet, make his toes curl into the soft earth as his hand worked faster. He imagined what it might be like to have Dean inside him, hard and hot and oh so close, and his orgasm punched through him with enough force to make him arc off the ground, Dean's name flying from his throat in a hoarse shout.
For several long moments Castiel simply lay still, chest heaving, eyes closed. His body felt oversensitive, loose and wonderful, much like it had as he lay in Dean's arms, but he knew immediately that this had not helped. He'd been too caught up in his own fantasy, his own pleasure. He would have to try a new tactic.
Something brushed against his face, so soft and light he hardly noticed it. When he opened his eyes, they nearly crossed in an attempt to see the firefly standing on the tip of his nose. Castiel laughed softly, and the beetle's light shone bright and steady, as though answering the angel.
“Hello,” Castiel murmured, and it crossed his mind that it was a very human thing to do, talking to creatures incapable of understanding him.
The firefly quivered faintly, and then rose into the air again. Castiel watched it rejoin the others before redressing with a twitch of his fingers. He frowned down at his clothes; the more human he became, the more restricting they felt. Perhaps soon he would want to branch out into something less formal.
Maybe Dean would help him.
...*...
Castiel stayed in the meadow for the rest of the night, watching the fireflies and contemplating what he might attempt next. He finally decided that his problem would not be solved in a regular bar, but he knew there were also places for men who liked the company of other men. Perhaps there he would find something of use.
When the sun had risen and the fireflies gone, Castiel took flight before realizing he had absolutely no idea where to find such a place. Regular drinking establishments were startlingly easy to find, but he had a feeling a...what was the term?...gay? Yes, a gay bar, that would be more difficult to find.
Jenny had been helpful, or at least attempted to be, so Castiel flew to the bar and asked for her. The scruffy, skinny man behind the counter told him that Jenny wouldn't be there until tonight, could he get him anything?
“I need to know if there are any gay bars nearby,” Castiel said after a moment's pause. The term 'gay bar' felt strange on his tongue, and he wondered if it was because Dean was always telling him he spoke so properly.
The man shrugged. “Sorry dude, not my scene. I got a phone book you can check out if you want.”
“Thank you,” Castiel said by way of reply, so the man ducked under the counter and produced a thick book, tossing it down on the counter in front of the angel.
“Hey, look, I'm cool with it, I mean, I work for Jenny, and she's an all types person, so I kinda have to be. But...” the guy glanced around, and Castiel suddenly noticed another man a few stools away eying him with open hostility. “Yeah, some people aren't so okay with the gay thing. So just be careful what you say in here, alright?”
Castiel once again found himself scanning the mind of the person before him. Andrew was straight but his little sister was gay, and he honestly didn't care if Castiel was or not. He also honestly didn't want to see him hurt; his advice wasn't meant to be hostile or cruel, he was genuinely trying to keep Castiel out of trouble.
“Thank you,” Castiel said again, and Andrew tossed him a quick grin and a nod before walking away.
The phone book confused Castiel. There seemed to be different sections organized in different ways, and Castiel eventually gave up attempting to understand it. He went to leave, but before he could Andrew was suddenly there again, scooping up the phone book as he tucked a cell phone into his pocket.
“Okay, so my sis says there's this place on the other end of town called Pulse, small, kinda mild, 's gotta dance floor and all that, but nothing too freaky. You're supposed to actually be able to talk. Sound good?”
Considering talking was exactly what he needed to do, Castiel thought it sounded perfect. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Sure.” Andrew shrugged. When he straightened from putting the phone book away, Castiel was already gone.
...*...
By the time Castiel reached the bar and sat down, he was beginning to understand the human sensation of having your skin “crawl.”
When the angel had opened the door of Pulse, it had felt as though every pair of eyes in the place had turned to stare at him. By now most had gone back to dancing or speaking with each other, but quite a few were still watching him with a such an intense lust in their eyes that it made Castiel shiver. That wasn't why he was here. He didn't want their touches, he just needed to talk.
Besides, he thought as he glanced over the room, avoiding the gazes of the men still staring at him, the lust they felt was purely physical. Hollow desire, nothing like what he had with Dean.
That, of course, did not stop one of them from approaching him.
The man was, Castiel supposed, physically attractive. He was tall, almost as tall as Sam, with a neat little goatee and slicked back black hair. Brown eyes regarded Castiel with obvious interest, and the angel completely ignored him as he sat down in the hopes that he would lose that interest and leave.
“Hi there, gorgeous.”
What was it Dean would say? No such luck.
“Hello,” Castiel replied grudgingly. He didn't want to talk to this one. There was something unsettling in the way those brown eyes were raking over his body, as though he were a prize to be won and not a sentient being.
“What are you having?” The man waved a hand without actually looking at the bartender, a guy who looked like he was barely old enough to be serving alcohol.
“Nothing,” Castiel replied shortly. “I am simply looking for someone to speak with.”
“Yeah?” Castiel's unfriendly behavior appeared to be intriguing the man rather than unsettling him. He leaned back against the bar, smiling in a mildly predatory way as the bartender began to make his way towards them. It looked nothing like the grin Castiel had imagined on Dean. The hunter was wild by nature, while this man somehow perverted the expression, made it appear almost demonic. “Well, you can 'speak' with me all you like, sweetheart.”
Castiel's entire body stiffened as rage swirled hotly to life in his grace. He knew the term was meant as an endearment, but coming from this man it sounded condescending, disgusting, insulting. Did he think he could just smile and produce a few supposedly flattering words, and Castiel would just melt and do whatever he desired?
The angel was opening his mouth to say something very rude and Dean-like when a voice cracked through the air behind him.
“Josh! Back off!”
The man turned his head towards the source of the voice, his smile devolving into an ugly glare. “How about you back off, Derek? I spotted him first.”
“Dude, forget who spotted him first. That guy is totally about to kick your ass, and you're calling him 'sweetheart?' The hell is wrong with you?”
The man, Josh, twisted his head to look at Castiel again, and he let out a bark of incredulous laughter. “This guy? Come on, look at him, I could probably tie him in knots before he'd even react.”
Castiel was furious. The urge to smite this man was overwhelming, but he kept hearing Dean's voice in the back of his mind, telling him just because he had power didn't mean he was allowed to abuse it. So instead he stayed quiet, allowing the young man behind him to handle the situation.
“Look at his posture, Josh. That's not meekness, that's an I'm-trying-really-hard-not-to-kill-you pose. That's not the kind of guy you can smooze all over like a total schmuck, and that's definitely not the kind of guy that'll let you run all over him. Does he look like he has self-esteem issues?”
Josh eyed Castiel one more time, then threw his hands in the air and stood. “You know what, whatever. This is so not worth it.”
He stormed off, leaving Castiel to let out an explosive breath of relief. The wood beneath his hands crumbled away, falling to the floor as nothing more than dust. He quickly fixed the damage before the young man sat down beside him.
The man, Derek, was just about Castiel's height, but smaller, more lithe. He had shaggy black hair that hung into huge gray eyes, and his round, boyish face had deep smile lines etched into the corners of his mouth and eyes. He was wearing odd, baggy pants with too many pockets, and a green t-shirt with an image that Castiel thought might be meant to depict a winking face. He was...cute, but nothing out of the ordinary in body. His soul, on the other hand, shone blindingly, and Castiel felt himself relax immediately.
“I'm Derek.” Derek held out his hand, and it took Castiel a second to remember he was supposed to shake it and respond with his own name. “No one would have blamed you if you'd punched Josh's lights out, he's a jerk. Thinks he's hot shit, and treats everyone like they're pieces of meat or trophies or something. Great self-restraint, though! And wow...good grip.” Derek tugged suddenly, flushing bright crimson as Castiel pulled his hand away. “So, I think I should go, 'cause seriously, you've gotta be the hottest thing on two legs I've seen in my entire life, and you don't look like you're looking, so I'm just gonna...” mid-sentence he stood and started to flee, but Castiel was reaching out and gripping his wrist to stop him before he could take a step. This one, he thought, would help him.
“You are correct in presuming that I'm not looking,” Castiel said as gently as he could, because he could sense Derek's interest, and it was nothing like Josh's. It was sweet, almost innocent. “But I do need help, and I think you might be willing to help me.”
“Help? Help with what?” Derek immediately sat down again, wrist still limp and willing in Castiel's grip.
Releasing his wrist, Castiel sat back and told Derek the same thing he'd told Jenny...and then he went further. He told Derek Dean's name, and that he was the most important thing in Castiel's existence, and that he was seeking this information not because of Dean's challenge or to prove anything, but because he truly just wanted Dean to feel so good that he'd remember why life was worth living.
By the time Castiel was finished Derek's eyes were glassy, and he was holding one hand over his heart like he thought it might leap out and run away if he let it. “That is the sweetest thing I have ever heard. I mean seriously, ever. I am totally going to help you. But let's get out of here, you're being cruised in serious fashion. Come on, I've got a computer, we can try some videos or something, see if they help.”
Though he knew the name this time, Castiel couldn't resist scanning Derek. He found a young man who was a romantic at heart, who knew of the supernatural world – he'd even been on a few hunts – because of his best friend, a hunter called Garth. He knew Castiel was something more than human, but his instincts also told him that he could trust the angel. He was drawn to the power in Castiel; his tough attitude was a shield for the fact that he just wanted someone who could watch his back.
“Okay, really, we gotta go, dude, another sleazeball is coming this way.” Derek was standing, tugging on Castiel's coat, and the angel realized he was staring up at Derek, unmoving.
“Think of home,” the angel said, and when Derek frowned but did as requested, Castiel flew them there, landing in the middle of a small, messy living room covered in books, scattered notepads and DVDs.
“Whoa!” Derek stumbled back, gripping Castiel's coat tighter to keep from falling. “Holy crap, I knew you weren't human. Shit. But...you're not evil, either. I can tell.”
“I am an angel.” Castiel almost tripped over the words, because he no longer wanted to declare himself an “Angel of the Lord.” The longer he went without finding God, the less faith he had in the Father he'd never laid eyes on. “Or more accurately, a falling angel.”
“Dude...seriously?” Derek stared at him, wide eyed, just as willing to believe as Sam had been. Castiel showed him his wings (or, rather, the shadow that human eyes could perceive) anyway, just to give him that added certainty.“Oh wow, that's just...wow. And you're smexing up a human, that's...funny. Is he the reason you're falling?” When Castiel nodded Derek made the strangest sound, like he'd begun to squeal and attempted to turn it into something just a little more masculine. “Right, so at some point I jumped into a really epic love story.” He clapped his hands suddenly and grinned, an expression that was almost mischievous. “And my role in this totally oddball movie; show the angel some porn. Oh god I did not just say that out loud. Come on.”
And that was how Castiel found himself sitting on a small, wheeled chair, watching as Derek, also in a chair of the same design, clicked on a video he thought might be promising.
“This won't cut it completely, you know, just give you an idea. Maybe. If it doesn't totally suck.” Derek watched as a small, red bar made its way slowly across the bottom of the video. When it had reached the end he hit play, and lewd sounds immediately began to pour from the laptop speakers. Castiel watched with vague distaste; it was just like the men in the bar who wanted him for his body and nothing else. They were also, he noted, completely in it to please themselves, not each other. While he understood this was a common human practice, he couldn't begin to comprehend how it could be fulfilling. Even Dean, who had slept with more women than even Castiel cared to count, had been attentive and generous with every one of them. The difference, Castiel thought, was that Dean didn't use women. He genuinely enjoyed them, and they enjoyed him just as much in return.
For several moments one man sucked off the other, moving so quickly and sharply that Castiel couldn't imagine it felt as great as the second man seemed to be making it out to. The sounds flying from his mouth felt fake and rehearsed, and it nearly made Castiel wince.
“You okay?” Derek leaned to the side, trying to see Castiel's face. “You look...constipated.”
“This video...” Castiel shuddered minutely. “It is...it was nothing like that. With Dean.”
“Oh, yeah. This is porn, no feelings involved. They are moving kinda fast though, huh? Well, it might get better, give it a minute.”
The first man pulled off and flipped the second one over, and then spat into his hand and smeared the fluid across his dick before shoving into the second man without preamble.
“Okay, that? That is totally not realistic. Or a good idea. Yeah...no...we gotta stop watching this video...” Derek hit the back button with enough enthusiasm to mean it, and then turned to face Castiel with an almost apologetic look. “Okay, so that was not a good one. See, this is the problem with porn. We need to find one of those instructional movies...except they usually actually, you know, cost. As in mula. As in, that which I do not have.”
Castiel sat very still, blue eyes locked on Derek's gray ones in a desperate attempt to understand. When comprehension thoroughly avoided him, Castiel asked carefully, “Is saliva considered an acceptable substitute for lubrication?”
“No, see, that's why it was a bad idea. I mean, it's okay I guess if the guy's a total slut bottom and is used to it and maybe likes it to burn a bit...okay quite a bit...but you said your guy's only done it once, right? And kudos to you for not screwing it up, I mean, virgins doing virgins is never a good idea, even if the other virgin is technically not, in the straight sense, you know? Anyway, no, spit is so not an acceptable substitute. If you want your guy to feel really good, use lube. Lots of it. But see, there's so much more to it than just the act, you know?”
Derek said “you know?” so often that Castiel was beginning to wonder if he should know, or if it was some strange little catch-phrase, a personal quirk. “I...” Castiel let out a small sigh and ducked his head, feeling self-conscious and frustrated with himself. “I do not know. I wish to.”
“Holy...how can you be so adorable?” Derek stared at Castiel with a strange mixture of jealousy and fascination, neither of which Castiel fully understood. “Okay, tell me about...Dean?” He waited for Castiel to nod an affirmative. “Tell me about Dean. What's he like? What's he into?”
“I don't understand. What does this have to do with sexual pleasure?”
“Everything!” Derek practically yelled, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Just roll with me on this.”
Castiel blinked, inwardly sighing because Derek was quite possibly even more confusing than Dean. “I do not see how rolling will assist you.”
“Oh my god!” Derek threw his arms around Castiel's shoulders without warning, gripping him in an awkward, sideways hug. “Stop being so cute!”
Castiel had never been hugged before. It seemed strange that he'd been kissed, and he'd been inside Dean, and Dean had even held him afterwords, but he'd never really been hugged. Cautiously, the angel put one arm around Derek's waist and hoped that sufficed as a form of reciprocation.
“Sorry.” Derek sat back suddenly, blushing furiously. “Dean, tell me about Dean.”
Though Castiel still didn't see the point of this, he trusted that Derek knew what he was doing. “Dean is a hunter,” he said slowly. “He is...strong, mentally and physically.”
“How about emotionally?”
The angel frowned. “I am uncertain. He is very hesitant to admit to his feelings, in fact the only person he openly shows affection to is his little brother.” He paused, thought back to the night that could still make him smile five days later. “I suppose he shows affection to me as well, in his own gruff manner.”
“So he's emotionally stunted, okay. But you've got him showing you love, that's great! You totally deserve it! What does he like?”
“Sam,” Castiel replied immediately, and when Derek looked confused Castiel clarified. “His brother. Myself. His car. Pie, he has a particular fondness for pie. Music classified as classic rock. Women.”
Derek blinked. “Women? Wait...your guy is straight? Or bi?”
Castiel paused, running the terms over in his mind and latching onto the one he understood, and also knew to be true. “Yes, he is straight. It seems I am...special somehow.”
“I'll say,” Derek breathed, and then he flushed and said hastily, “Okay, so you're the exception to his heterosexuality, great. So that means this isn't just him being a virgin, this is totally new territory for him. Okay. You said he's a hunter? As in, supernatural, right? Well, I bet that means he's a little bit of an adrenaline junky, probably likes the rush...what kind of car does he have?”
“A 1967 Impala,” Castiel replied without hesitation.
“Ooh, nice car! A classic, probably babies that thing, huh? Total gas hog, though. Okay, I think I got this guy. I mean, you're gonna have to improvise, you know him better than I do, but here's what I think you should do.”
Derek slid the wheeled chair closer, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring into Castiel's eyes like he was about to share the secret of the universe. Castiel found himself staring easily back, relaxing in a way he often couldn't around Dean because his hunter was still somewhat uncomfortable with the connection. Except, it seemed, during sex.
“Guys with issues expressing and accepting emotion usually seem to crave it, especially the ones that act like nothing is a big deal. So here's what you do; you take your time with him, lots of exploring and kissing and maybe even a little talking, nothing too intense, just little things, like telling him how gorgeous you think he is or how much you like touching him, stuff like that. Watch him really close, you'll see it when you find a place he really likes. Sometimes it's weird places, like I have this totally sensitive spot behind my left knee, but not my right. When you get around to the actual fucking, go slow, take plenty of time prepping and remember the lube. Oh, and remember, the prostate is your friend. Especially if you want to tease him a little, just graze it every few thrusts but don't actually press against it. You can get him totally worked up like that. Half the trick is to get him so turned on that every time you touch him he feels it ten times more intensely than he would if you were just normally interacting.”
Derek stopped to draw in a breath, but he wasn't done yet. “There's other stuff you can do before, too, like you can give him a strip tease, or does he have any kinks you're aware of?”
“Kinks?” Castiel was almost certain Derek didn't mean that in the literal term, and he was proud of himself for catching it before he blurted out something else that sent Derek gushing about how 'adorable' he was.
“Yeah. You know, some people have a domination kink, or a submission kink, or some people might be really into this tie.” Derek reached out and lightly tugged said tie. “Speaking of which, what kind of bottom is he? I mean, did he ask you to fuck him, or did you ask to?”
“I asked,” Castiel replied slowly. “And he seemed quite taken with the idea. But he was not submissive. Dean is never submissive.”
“Ooh, so what kind of top were you, then?”
Castiel frowned as he attempted to view the event from a more clinical, outside view. It was exceptionally difficult. “I was...very eager to please him. I wanted more than anything for Dean to feel good.”
Derek was staring at him with glazed eyes, and he had to shake himself before replying. “Damn, this guy is so lucky, I hope he knows how lucky he is. Okay, so basically what happened was you topped, but Dean was pretty much running the show. That's actually fine, you can use that to your advantage. Let him keep that kind of control, and he'll probably be more open to you trying to sneak in under his emotional issues.”
Derek's hand was still curled loosely around his tie, and Castiel reached up and gently removed it. “Dean did seem fond of my tie,” Castiel said in reply to Derek's earlier question. “He pulled me where he wanted me to go with it several times.”
Derek shuddered. “Okay, that sounds hot. There's some other stuff you could do with it, too, like blindfold each other or tie each other up.”
Restrain Dean?! Castiel's alarm must have shown in his eyes, because Derek began to shake his head and speak even more quickly than usual. “No no, oh my god, no, shit, did I hit a nerve or something? It can be good, I mean really good, to tie someone up, or get tied up. It's not a dominance thing or a forced thing, it's all about trust. You know, you take away control and it's all about letting the other person know that you trust them completely. If you're not comfortable doing that to Dean, you might try offering to let Dean tie you up. I bet, with the way you've described him, he'd be thrilled with the idea, and I can almost promise you he'd trust you completely after it.”
“I thought being the one restrained meant being the one to show trust?”
Derek nodded. “It does, but in showing that kind of trust, in giving up that kind of control, it makes the other person trust you too. They know if you're wiling to go that far, they can too without worrying about you taking advantage of them.”
Castiel tried imagining it, tried wondering what it would be like to ask Dean to tie his hands, to see the flare of lust and awe in Dean's eyes as he accepted...and then was forced to cut the thought off before his reaction to the image could start tenting his pants.
“There's other stuff you could try, too, like touching him throughout the day but making him wait for it, or if he's open to it you could try dancing, 'cause that gets you all up and close and rubbing against each other, and if it's slow dancing it's a chance to get sorta intimate. And trust me, all this stuff helps with the sex department. The more connected you are and the more lead up there is, the more it's gonna blow both your minds. Am I giving you a total info overload here?”
Thanks to Dean and his constant shortening of words, Castiel was able to translate 'info' to 'information'. “No. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Hm...” Derek lifted one hand and flicked at his chin absently with his index finger, eyes staring down at nothing thoughtfully. “What did Dean act like? While you guys were doing it, I mean? I know you said he was tugging you around, but was it like he was trying to be dominant, or playful?”
“Playful,” Castiel answered immediately. “He pushed me twice, but that was also playful. He chuckled a good deal, and he seemed to want me to feel as good as I was making him feel. He was also very...gentle, at first. It was my first time, I was...afraid.”
“Yeah, it's always scary the first time,” Derek agreed with a nod.
“There was something else.” Castiel paused, unsure why he was even mentioning it, but so far Derek seemed to be finding links in places that Castiel wasn't fully understanding as of yet. “Dean does not normally appreciate it when I stare into his eyes. He is much more open to it now than he was in the beginning, but it seems to make him somewhat uncomfortable. It had the opposite effect while we were in bed. He seemed to...it seemed to greatly arouse him. I believe it may have even been the cause of his climax.”
“That makes sense. Since he denies himself that connection in front of people, you giving it to him full on like that, in a private place where he didn't feel threatened by it? Hell yeah, I bet that was what made him come. So okay, eye contact, remember eye contact. Now, there's just one more thing.” Derek stood up suddenly, making his way towards a small table by the front door. “When do you need to leave?”
“I still have time,” Castiel replied, though he was eager to get back to his hunter and attempt some of the tactics Derek had given him.
“Good.” Derek lifted a ring of keys from the table and wiggled them at Cas. “We're going shopping.”
...*...
Derek's car was a banged up '98 Blazer that coughed and sputtered as they drove to a Walmart a few miles from Derek's home. Castiel had seen one before; Dean called them “Wally World” and claimed demonic deals were responsible for the cheap prices.
“Why are we here?” Castiel asked as Derek dragged him by his coat sleeve into the store.
“Just one more tactic for you to use,” Derek said as he made a beeline for the clothing department. The store was packed full of people, and Castiel tried his best not to become distracted by so many different lives and personalities filing past him. “Do you have anything else to wear, or do you wear that all the time?”
“I've never worn anything else,” Castiel answered. “There is no reason to, my powers keep the clothing clean.”
“So you never have to do laundry?” Derek twisted around long enough to give the angel an expression caught somewhere between a glare and jealousy. “Dude, you suck.”
Castiel frowned, then answered carefully, “Only Dean,” thinking that Derek was implying something.
“Only – oh! Oh god, okay, yeah, you're very literal, aren't you?” Derek laughed and tugged Castiel's coat again. “Come on, let's get you something new to wear.”
Derek tried to get Castiel to pick his own clothes at first, but apparently everything that Castiel pointed to was 'hideous', so Derek began doing it himself. He handed Castiel two pairs of jeans, one black and one blue, and then began to riffle through long sleeved, button down shirts, muttering to himself under his breath about colors and sleeve lengths.
“Blue's going to be a good color on you because of your eyes, but I bet we can find something else that'll make you stand out...green, green might be good, a dark shade...might make your eyes stand out even more, actually...” Castiel trailed behind Derek, holding the clothes that the young man shoved at him and staying silent, letting Derek carry the conversation alone because he couldn't even begin to understand the importance of color coordination, or the difference between form fitting and loose cuts.
Finally, Derek herded him towards the dressing room, and he made Castiel step out and let him look at him after every single outfit. The angel was tiring of this very quickly, but if it helped him with his mission then he would put up with it.
“Okay, two pairs of jeans, the black one and the dark blue one, and that light blue t-shirt and the green button down...not the short sleeve! Yeah, okay. Just leave the rest of it.”
Castiel glanced back into the dressing room, towards the mountain of clothes lying on the floor. “It's acceptable to just leave them?”
“Yeah,” Derek said with a nod. “They'll get it. I don't think they like you putting them back yourself, messes up the order or something. Oh, you can get away with that green shirt with your slacks, too, if you want to keep up the more formal look. Those jeans really hug your ass and hips, though, and your guy might like the change up.”
Your guy. Though Castiel wasn't sure why, the term was beginning to make him smile.
Derek paid for the clothing with a plastic card, even though Castiel had the distinct impression that Derek couldn't afford it. He scanned the young man's mind again and found that to be true, but when he pointed this out Derek waved a hand dismissively and said he'd find a way to pay for it later, so Castiel resolved to pay him back somehow. Dean would know where to get money, even if the methods weren't exactly honest.
Derek didn't want the angel to leave yet, and Castiel knew that should have been reason enough for him to leave right then. The young man was sweet, and he didn't need to be developing a crush that wouldn't lead anywhere. In the end he rode in the car back to Derek's place, and when Derek insisted Castiel changed into the green shirt, though he left the familiar slacks, black coat, and tie. He did leave his trench coat off, though, and Derek proceeded to inform him that he looked “hot.”
“You taking off, then?” Derek asked softly.
Castiel shifted uncertainly; he'd already located the Winchesters. They'd finished their hunt and were spending some time in yet another bar. Castiel could be there in the blink of an eye...but he was reluctant to just leave the young man who'd been so helpful.
“Would you like to accompany me?” Castiel found himself asking.
Derek's whole being lit like the horizon at dawn, and he nodded eagerly. “I'd love to!”
It wasn't the best idea, Castiel thought as the young man took his outstretched hand, but perhaps Dean would be able to help him find a person more suitable for Derek.
TBC
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Mission: Unexpected