Fic: Drive Safely (Supernatural, Dean/Castiel)
Rating: NC17 for sex and bad language
Word count: 2772
Summary: AU of 5x03 wherein Jo is the Righteous Man, it's Castiel's last night on Earth (again), and Dean is a hooker.
Author's Notes: First fic repost from blindfold_spn!
Jo can't help but feel sorry for Cas. He's been lumbered with her since she came back from Hell, he's lost his friends - although in Uriel's case, Jo can't help but feel good riddance - his family, his home. All he's got is her.
And, apparently, his virginity, but that's one thing she's happy to help him lose. He seems to want to, though he looks at her with a disinterest that's hardly flattering when she offers to help.
"I didn't mean me," she clarifies, annoyed that she has to. "I mean there're places men can go if they want to. You know."
Castiel looks away and shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."
"It does. Come with me, I'm not gonna let you die a virgin. Might as well die knowing something good a human body can do."
She walks off; he stands up, looks puzzled, and follows.
She likes this place, even if her mom keeps kicking her ass for going here. It's pretty much the only mixed brothel she knows and even if it's still mostly guys who come here, there aren't quite as many creeps as the girl-only or guy-only brothels. Jo's got taste, or so she likes to think, and this one even throws in the condoms for free.
She gives Castiel a wad of $20s after buying drinks for herself and him - more for him, given his abnormal tolerance for alcohol - and waits for him to pick someone out. She figures no harm done if none of them are Castiel's type. There're other places to visit - she'd just rather start at as high an end as she can afford.
Castiel looks terrified, leans across and says to her, "This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here."
She grins, laughs outright, and takes another drink. "Oh Cas, baby. You have so much to learn."
One of the girls starts to walk over towards them but Jo waves her away, shifts to sit next to Castiel, wraps her arm around his shoulders. "You're probably going to die in the morning, right? That's what you reckon? You have got to stop being afraid of sex. It's awesome, Cas, there's a reason we're all into it."
Castiel seems to relax a little, his line of sight changing from his drink for a moment, looking around the room before lingering for a moment. Jo tries to work out what he's looking at and smiles.
"You've got good taste there honey," she says, and Castiel narrows his eyes at her.
"Why do you use your mother's words when you're trying to be comforting?"
Jo shrugs. "They work for me."
Castiel looks back again, this time attracting the guy's attention with his staring, and Jo bites her lip to hide the smirk as he walks over. "Hey. Name's Dean."
Castiel is silent, downs his drink without looking at it, nerves still written all over him.
"He's Cas," Jo offers. "He's not mute, just new."
"Castiel," he corrects, still not taking his eyes off Dean. Dean shifts a little, looks uncomfortable.
"Castiel," Dean repeats, and Castiel's shoulders visibly relax at hearing someone get his name right for once; Jo still sometimes slips into Casti-ul, hard to fight her natural drawl, and she takes it as a sign, pats Castiel on the leg before pushing him up.
"Go get him," Jo says, and lazes back on the sofa, keeping an ear out just in case, promises herself this time she'll stop at five beers before the numbed fingertips kick in. Numb fingertips are a son of a bitch when you're trying to fire a gun.
Castiel is still anxious when Dean leads him upstairs past a couple who didn't make it to a bedroom, lets Dean open the door, push him in, and close it behind him.
He still isn't sure what he's doing here, or why Dean attracted his attention. Humans more or less look the same to him on the outside, and his ability to see inside has worsened of late. There's confusion and hurt and guilt inside Dean, more than Castiel's used to seeing.
"First things first, nothing kinky. There're other brothels for that. We get let by because it's just sex and we pay more tax than we need to, if you know what I mean."
"Then there's my money, so it's fifty for the hour."
Castiel pulls out the paper Jo gave to him, hands over five notes before putting the others away. Five seems right.
Dean looks at the notes, then back at Castiel. "I did say nothing kinky. I mean it."
"I haven't done this before," Castiel points out.
"Yeah, no one here has," Dean replies with a grin, sliding his hands under Castiel's trenchcoat and easing it off to the floor.
"Jo believes I should lose my virginity tonight."
Dean's expression freezes for a moment at that, his hands still sliding down Castiel's chest, undoing shirt buttons and unbuckling and unzipping his pants. "My lucky day," Dean says, his voice not agreeing with his words. "You lie down and I'll do the hard work, okay?"
Castiel does, lies face down on the bed, feeling oddly exposed in only his boxers.
Dean laughs from by the door before walking over and climbing on top of Castiel, running his fingers down Castiel's back before digging them in and rubbing. It's soothing, eases the muscles into relaxing. "You really are new," he says. "You want to be the bottom then? Or top?"
"I don't know," Castiel says, and Dean's quiet for a moment, his fingers still rubbing circles into Castiel's flesh, almost hypnotic in motion.
"Well, you did pay double. You can try both." Castiel feels the warmth of Dean's body pull away from his for a moment, and he actually misses it, before Dean's hands grip his boxers and pull them down, sliding them off the bed. Dean whistles in appreciation. "I have no idea how you got this far a virgin. You escape from a cult or something?"
Castiel laughs, bitter. "Something, yes."
Dean climbs off the bed for a moment, sound of rustling through the bedside drawers. "You ever touched a balloon?"
Castiel blinks, confused. "Yes, why?"
"'Cause anal's a fucking horrible way to find out you're allergic to latex," Dean says, laughing, climbing back onto the bed.
Castiel breathes out, hissing, when he feels something cold and wet settle at the base of his spine, feels Dean's fingers run through it.
"I'll go slow, okay? Hope you showered good this morning," Dean says before Castiel feels a hot, almost burning but not quite painful sensation where Dean's fingers press up against his entrance, and Castiel's moan is closer to a whimper than anything else when Dean slides his fingers in. Castiel isn't sure how many are inside him but the stretch is intense, just on the threshold of discomfort but still desirable, and his breaths come quick and shallow. "Easy now," Dean says, pushing in and pulling out, before slapping Castiel lightly on the ass. "You're a good, clean boy, aren't you Castiel?"
He should hate hearing his name used as a borderline mockery like that, but doesn't; when Dean leans out over him and pushes in, his cock covered by something slippery and manmade, Castiel's breath halts altogether for a moment. "Oh," Castiel says, digging his fingers into the sheets, and he doesn't know why he spoke, only that he had to.
"Mmm, you do like the bottom," Dean says, pulling out and pushing back in. "Tight, pretty thing like you, I'm not surprised."
Castiel's torn between asking Dean not to talk like that and asking him to say worse, the insults feeling like a strange relief given his nature as an outcast. He feels one of Dean's hands slide under him and wrap around his erection, stroking, and he has to speak out at that. "Don't touch me yet," he says, his own self-control slipping away, something he has to fight for, Dean filling him up completely and it's a form of possession he never saw the appeal of before but understands now. "I want to - I want more,"
Dean pulls out all the way, fingers him a moment longer before he pushes Castiel over onto his back, the strength in his human arms surprising; they're not just vanity muscles, they're meant for work. Castiel wonders what Dean normally does, in between catching his breath at the full view; he hadn't watched Dean strip off, and there's a beauty here that's almost uncomfortable to look at.
Dean sits back, thighs straddling Castiel's hips, presses his ass back against Castiel's erection and rubs up and down in small circles without letting Castiel inside him. "Your turn for a rubber," Dean says, climbing off the bed again, and Castiel realises now what Dean was looking for last time, the purpose of the packets. It's strange to see Dean's cock surrounded by something almost plastic, but he knows humans protect themselves in all different ways and it's oddly practical to see this method used.
Castiel doesn't attempt to explain that it's physically impossible for him to transfer disease, only to inflict it with violent intent if a mission requires it, and Castiel can't help but stare at Dean's face, the expression there, something in it Castiel still can't place but wants to understand.
Dean looks back at him after sliding the rubber down Castiel's cock, fitting it in place before getting back onto the bed, straddling Castiel's hips.
"What?" Dean asks, and Castiel remembers what Jo said, that humans get suspicious when others stare at them.
"It's nothing." Dean shifts back and takes Castiel's cock inside him in one smooth, practised moment, and steals any words or breath Castiel might have had left.
"Mmm," Dean says, easing up and down, fucking himself on Castiel, and Castiel tries to find something to say, something to think, but he can't - even with the faint numbing of the barrier between them it's still hot and tight and like nothing he's ever felt before, nothing like one of the curious touches when he first took this vessel. "This'll probably be your favourite."
Castiel can understand why; Dean really does do most of the work for this, and Castiel's unsurprised when Dean squeezing tight around him almost forces him into the orgasm he'd tried to repress before when it was Dean inside him, his cock getting wet with come given it has nowhere to escape to, and he outright groans when Dean eases off him, keeping a hand tight around the base of his cock. "Sit up," Dean orders. "No point using these if you can't use them right."
Castiel does, and Dean pulls the rubber off him, ties a knot and drops it in the waste bin. Castiel tries not to look at how many others are in there, but it's hard not to be interested.
He can't help but feel distressed at Dean still being hard, like he's failed in some way, and he lies back down, pulls Dean down with him.
"Hey," Dean says. "One hour, one orgasm, we're done here."
"I don't want to come," Castiel explains, or tries to, hitches up his legs and pulls Dean to kneel between them; it takes a little more of his strength than he meant to show, and Dean looks surprised. "I want you to."
Dean smiles, but it's tinged with bitterness. "I'm not your boyfriend, kid. I don't have to."
"You're my first," Castiel says, gripping Dean's cock tight and pushing it up against him.
"Please," Castiel adds, and Dean bites his lips before pushing into him.
"I won't go easy on you this time," Dean says. "Just say stop if you have to."
Castiel nods and hooks his legs around Dean's waist, his arms around Dean's shoulders, holding him close.
Dean fucks him hard as promised, and it's not the slow and strange pleasure of before, it's harsh spikes alternating between pain and something sweeter, and where before his breath felt pushed out of him or stolen, with this it comes in short sobbed gasps against Dean's ear. He knows a human body shouldn't normally be able to grow hard again this quick but there's something about him, something about Dean, something about them together that changes the rules and Dean digs his fingers into Castiel's scalp, grips his hair tight, pulling his head back so he can bite at Castiel's neck.
Castiel comes with a scream this time, pained and exhausted by the simultaneous pleasure, and Dean comes too, no flood of warmth given the barrier protection but it's still evident in everything about him.
Dean shudders afterwards, keeps hold of him, even though Castiel knows he shouldn't have to.
"Who are you?" Dean asks, sweat beading on his forehead, and Castiel bites his tongue for a moment to fight the urge to lick it away.
"Castiel," he replies, looking into Dean's eyes now he has the chance, and he knows it's a mistake to tell him the truth but he can't lie, doesn't know why he can't lie to this man. "I'm an angel of the Lord."
He'd never needed to tell Jo. She'd worked it out before he ever had the chance to tell her.
"Bullshit," Dean replies, though his expression isn't scornful, isn't even completely filled with disbelief. "There's no such thing."
Castiel wishes he could tell Dean that good things do happen, that this was good, but he could be dying in the morning and this could be the last time he sees this man. He can't tell him the truths he once believed and now doubts. "You have no faith, but we're trying to save this world."
"I had faith," Dean says. "And then my dad and brother died and this was the only way I could make a living. Next time you see God? You give him a kick in the balls from me."
Castiel feels names flash by, John, Sam, a sense of importance not in this life but another. He knows why Dean's familiar now, even if it isn't for the reality they're living in.
"I'll have to find Him first."
Jo had been starting to wonder what was taking Castiel so long, and it's kind of a relief when he walks downstairs, but the relief freezes up at the haunted expression in Castiel's eyes. For a moment all sense disappears and she seriously considers storming upstairs and knifing the hooker who left Castiel looking like this, but he simply walks out, leaving her to follow.
They're in the Impala before he takes a long breath, tilts his head back against the passenger seat, and weeps; she pulls over instantly, because angels don't exactly over-emote and they don't fucking cry.
"Cas, Cas, honey, did he hurt you? Did he fucking lay a finger on you you didn't ask for?"
"No," Castiel says, before closing his hand around her wrist. "I don't want to die. I want to save him."
Jo lets go of the keys in the ignition and turns, wraps her arms around Castiel as best as she can given the angle. "Oh Cas, I'm sorry, but you can't go around saving everyone."
"Not everyone," he says. "Just him. I don't know what it is but - we were meant to be together, and something went wrong."
"Doesn't help me any when you talk in four dimensions," Jo says, but Castiel just gives her this look, not angry, not confused, just begging her to understand. "Cas -"
"If I survive this," Castiel says, and he's rarely looked more alien or more human at the same time. "I want to come back for him. I want to bring him with us."
Jo opens her mouth to object, knows any reasonable person would - but less than a year ago she was carting around Castiel and a demon. She can't exactly say no to a hooker. Fuck, at least he's human. "If you survive," she says, and blinks when Castiel leans down and kisses her on the cheek until she works out it's chaste, that there's no intent behind it.
"Thank you," he says.
"No problem," she replies. "Now we've just got to fry ourselves an archangel and we're done."
"Capture," Castiel says, sounding a little irritated, and it's funny how much of a comfort that is to her.
She sits back and starts the ignition. "I prefer fried. We can call him hot wings."
Castiel just looks at her.
She finds it hard not to smile.