Title: With the Kisses of his Mouth
Author: [personal profile] ava_jamison
Rating: PG for language.
Genre and/or Pairing: Humor/Romance, Cas/Dean
Spoilers: Through 6.10
Warnings: Some derogatory language.
Word Count: 1200
Summary: Cas shows up; Dean gets confused.
A/N: I'm still new to this fandom. This is my second fic.



Dean could see his breath form in front of him in the chilled night air. It was cold and it sucked and he wished he could at least jam his hands in his pockets but he was carrying the ice chest. He dropped it when he got to the west side of the motel and in the light of the coke machine, dumped the old, mostly melted ice out onto a patch of gravel and cigarette butts.

Next to him the ice machine rumbled, dropping a new batch, cubes clattering as they fell. He reached for the crap plastic cup he’d grabbed from the bathroom and started scooping fresh ice to cover the four bottles of St. Pauli still sloshing around inside. They were for tomorrow, but warmed-up beer always tasted like piss even after you got it cold again. Besides, he needed the ice. He’d scored a bottle of Jack from Bobby, and it was waiting on the motel table where he’d left it after two shots, neat, just to get him warmed up enough to come out here.

The sound of ice, scraping and rattling, filled his ears while he worked, and then there was nothing but the purring thrum of the motor keeping sodas cold. The ice machine was warm against his leg until he pulled away to put the lid on the ice chest, backing into something close and solid behind him.

Dean didn’t have time to turn all the way around before Cas grabbed him and shoved him the rest of the way. “Cas—” he choked out.

“Dean,” Cas said, halfway between ‘I have something important to say’ and ‘maybe I’ll smite you’. Then a lunge, and Dean was lifted, feet flailing uselessly just above the ground as Cas manhandled him against the rough brick of the motel’s wall. He pinned him there, one hand on the collar of his jacket, the other fisting in his hair

“Uh, Cas…” Dean said.

Cas’s serious, way-too-focused eyes met his and then dropped to Dean’s lips.

“Something up, buddy? Because you’re really creeping me out right now—”

And then Cas kissed him, chapped lips softer than Dean would have guessed, but Dean wouldn’t have thought an angel’d try to use so much tongue, either. With so much gusto.

“Cas!” Dean gasped, but he had to say it into Cas’s mouth, because Cas wasn’t stopping, and the only answer was a little growl, accompanied by Dean getting pressed harder into the wall, the fist in his hair tightening to tilt his head, give Cas better access. Cas took advantage of the angle, tasting Dean’s mouth, teasing his tongue—warm and wet until a burst of something filled him—some kind of blast like he was coming undone, something burning and freaky and what the fuck? Dean jerked away, yanking his head as far as he could get it, given the iron grip Cas had on him—because his fucking lizard brain didn’t know what hit it and he really wasn’t going to play tonsil hockey with Cas. No way.

“Cas,” he said again, and Cas pulled back enough to stare him in the eye, intent as always.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas’s voice was low and as rough as the hands that had grabbed him.

“Think you could, uh, put me down?”

“If you wish.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do, Cas,” Dean said, and if the words came out a little croaky, it sure as hell wasn’t his fault.

Cas nodded, once, and lowered Dean to stand on his own two feet. “Okay,” Dean said, wiping off spit with the back of his hand. “You don’t do that, man.”

“I already did.”

“Yeah, but that’s… that’s just wrong, man. Dudes don’t go grabbing other dudes and shoving them up against a wall and—”

“I would like an hour alone with you.”

Dean couldn’t quite catch a good breath, heart hammering in his chest. “Okay, Cas, here’s the thing…” He scooted to his left a few inches, but then his progress was stopped by Cas’s arm, blocking the way. “Cas, you’re—” Dean bit his upper lip and inhaled a quick, needed lungful of cold air. “Man, you’re really freaking me out right now—”

“I would like to spend more time here if I could. But right now I don’t have an hour.”

“Uh…” Dean blinked. “Okay,” he said slowly, squaring his shoulders. “But see, Cas,”

“I’m needed in heaven, Dean.”

“Right—but Cas—”

“Do we need to talk about this, Dean?”

Okay, so fuck Dean Winchester’s life. He gave the universe the finger and tried to form words. “Cas, you just—”

“Because I don’t have time.”

“You said that, Cas, and see, you can’t—”

“I judged it the most efficient way to give you the information, Dean,” Cas said, like Dean was the slowest student in the class.

Dean stared at him, and yeah, his mouth was open, so he probably didn’t look like the brightest bulb in the box.

“The information I got from Meg.”

Dean closed his mouth, opened it, then closed it again. Finally he said, “When you kissed her.”

Cas nodded. “And now I’ve transferred that information to you.”

“Uh huh.” Dean squinted at him. “Hate to break it to you, Casanova, but your delivery method needs work.”

“Do you not like my method?” Cas frowned. “I learned it from the Pizza Man.”

“Yeah, Cas. First of all, that makes you sound like a retard, dude.”

Cas squinted at him. “Perhaps I should do more research.”

“More porn? Great, Cas. That’s just what you need.”

Cas nodded solemnly.

“That was sarcasm, Cas.”

“I am familiar with the concept. You’ve taught me quite a lot about... sarcasm.” Cas narrowed his eyes. “Was there a second thing?”

“What?”

Cas tilted his head, moving an inch closer. “You implied there was more than one thing.”

“Okay, you’re crowding me, man.” Dean put his hands on Cas’s chest and pushed. Cas didn’t budge, but after Dean gave up with a huff and dropped his hands, he took a single, small step back.

Dean scrubbed his face with his hand. “Yeah, okay. Number two, Cas, you just can’t—” Dean dragged a hand through his hair. “Look,” He let his head tip back to thud on the wall behind him. Three times. “And another thing—” Dean waved a hand in the air. “Not feeling this ‘information transfer’, Cas.”

“It had a delayed reaction with me. I imagine it will take even longer with a human.” Cas stared at him, eyes again dropping to Dean’s lips. “Do you think I should kiss you again?”

Dean snorted, a lopsided grin trying to curve his mouth. “Not for nothing, Cas, but now I think—”

“What do you think?” Cas interrupted, voice low, leaning so close Dean could feel his breath against his jaw.

“Thought you had work to do.” Dean edged sideways, crossing his arms and backing a step away. “Sure are taking your own sweet time.

“I will work on my technique.”

“You… you do that, Cas. Find some nice angel girl and—”

“I’m glad we’re friends, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, me too Cas, but—”

And then he was talking to nothing, the only thing in front of him empty night air, fogging with his breath. “Damn it, Cas.” Dean pulled out a beer and popped the top with his lighter. “You still can’t even say goodbye!” he yelled to the deserted parking lot. Shit. Dean leaned back against the wall, gulping a swig. Only thing for it tonight was to get drunk and watch Busty Coeds Gone Wild. Maybe there’d be some Asian chicks. And boobs. Boobs were good. He absolutely was not going to think about Cas.
scaramouche: Cartoon artwork Castiel from Supernatural (castiel is very good at staring)

From: [personal profile] scaramouche


Hah, I love fic where Dean and Castiel have completely different perceptions of what is going on and end up completely misunderstanding each other.
realpestilence: m&s by lit_gal (Default)

From: [personal profile] realpestilence


And yet I somehow get the feeling that Cas was laughing, underneath. :D
.

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