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"It's not that I mind the dying part," Dean said, once Sam had definitely driven out of the motel parking lot, off to look for decent pizza. "It's the going back to Hell part I'm not looking forward to." He grimaced at Cas.
"Why do you assume you are going back to Hell?" Cas asked, sounding as bland as if he was asking Dean if he thought it would rain tonight.
"Well— that was part of the original deal. And then you kind of interrupted that, and." Dean wasn't going to say it aloud, because it would cause some giant, bitchy fuss (and with both Sam and Cas involved, it would be one epic bitchfit), but he never really pictured himself going to Heaven. "If Lucifer wins, or whatever." He shrugged.
Cas frowned. "If Lucifer wins, Hell will be obsolete."
"And if he doesn't and I die stopping him… won't I end up back there?"
"It… is a possibility," Cas frowned. "But Dean," and he did that thing where he stood and waited until Dean looked at him, "you do not deserve to go there."
Dean should be annoyed that Cas knew that about him; instead he was annoyed that Cas was making him feel guilty for thinking he belonged back in Hell. Dean had never assumed he was going to Heaven. "Whatever," Dean hunched his shoulders. "I knew what I was doing." Really, Dean knew what he was doing about 60% of the time— lately it felt more like 40%— but that was no one's business but his. He felt sick enough about Hell.
"I will not allow it." Cas says it like he means it.
Dean's kind of touched. To cover, he coughs and says gruffly "Yeah, well, you got some way to prevent it?"
"I have… a possible way around that," Cas said, carefully, like he didn't think Dean would like it.
Which— seriously? "Lay it on me!"
Cas looked sort of anxious, or twitchy or something. "I do not know for sure if it will work."
"Might as well try it, right? Better than nothing."
Cas met Dean's gaze like he was about to deliver The Word, which maybe he was. "Demons were never angels, but devils were," he began. Dean bit his lip so he wouldn't tell Cas to skip the parts he already knew. That never worked.
"Although humans most commonly make deals with demons, deals can be made with devils as well."
"You're talking about selling your soul, crossroads type deals, right?"
Castiel nodded. "And if deals can be made with fallen angels, why not angels who have not fallen?" He looked proud of himself. And sort of alarmed.
Dean stared. "What the hell are you talking about, Cas?"
"You could… make a deal… with me."
"You want me to sell you my soul?" Dean said. He was surprised, yes, but… it wasn't even the craziest thing he'd heard today.
"That is what I am suggesting, yes. I don't know for sure if it will supersede the other deal, but I am more powerful." Cas sounded nervous, which was kind of funny.
"Well," Dean said. "It's not like I'm doing anything else with it." And really, he'd rather have his soul in Castiel's hands then… oh, anyone else's.
Castiel thought that, since he was already there, a crossroads wouldn't be necessary. "What do you want?" he asked.
It took Dean a moment to figure it out. "In exchange for my soul?" Cas nodded. What did Dean want? He wanted the freaking apocalypse stopped, but he probably had to ask for something Cas could actually give. That didn't leave him with much. He wanted Sammy to be safe, he wanted Bobby to walk again. Castiel couldn't guarantee either of those.
"Just— promise me that when something happens to me, you'll look after Sam as long as you can. That's all. Just— look after him. Do your best."
"I swear it, Dean Winchester," Castiel said, nodding solemnly. It could have been funny— Dean usually found Cas's earnestness amusing— but something in Cas's face was more fierce than earnest, and Dean caught his breath a little.
"Okay," Dean said, after a moment. "So I'm giving you my soul in exchange for you looking after Sam. Okay."
"Agreed," Cas said. "Now we seal it."
Dean had… actually kind of forgotten about that part. He froze, then looked around the room nervously, like Sam had come back when he wasn't looking and was lurking in a corner. But of course he hadn't. There was no one in the room except Dean and Cas and the shag carpeting, which was possibly sentient and definitely scary.
Castiel was starting to frown, so Dean shut his eyes and leaned forward. He felt Cas's hand on the side of his face, warmer than he expected. He could feel Cas hovering right in front of him, and seriously, couldn't the guy just get on with it so they could get it over with and start pretending it hadn't happened?
Cas tilted Dean's head a little and finally pressed his mouth against Dean's. At first Dean just concentrated on keeping still, and then how it was weird to feel someone's stubble against his own. Abruptly Dean relaxed, without really realizing it— it was just that nothing else was very important.
Someone had to get this going, since this was just two mouths together and not actually a kiss— so Dean pressed back, moved his lips a little, and Castiel copied him. Better. It was still totally chaste, of course, their mouths firmly closed.
It went on for a while, for a long time maybe, much longer than any demon kiss Dean had been involved in, but finally Cas moved back and lowered his hand.
Dean opened his eyes slowly. He felt… really good, actually. Warm and relaxed and kind of like he'd just woken up after a really good night's sleep. It had been a really, really long time since Dean had felt this good. Like, Dad had still been alive.
Cas was looking at him warily. "Huh," Dean said. He licked his lips without meaning too. Cas followed the movement. Huh. "Was that you?" Dean said.
"Yes?" Cas looked concerned.
"I mean, that, that— what is this?"
"I do not know to what you are referring. Are you feeling all right, Dean?"
"Are you kidding?" Dean laughed. "I feel great." He looked at Cas— or, really, at Cas's mouth. "Come 'ere," Dean said, grabbing Cas's shoulders and hauling him close again.
Cas made an outraged sort of noise, which would have been freaking hilarious under any other circumstances, but Dean was more interested just now in getting his mouth back on Cas's.
He kissed him again, still close-mouthed and proper. This time, Dean could definitely feel the way the warmth and… lightness, for lack of a better word, flowed from Castiel into him. Maybe it was angel breath, Dean thought, feeling kind of giddy.
Dean pulled back, somewhat out of breath, but feeling incredibly peaceful and kind of… full, like it was after Thanksgiving dinner and no one had had to run off and fight zombies in the middle of it. Cas looked— well, he looked as rumpled as he usually did. That had been one of the first things Dean liked about him, actually. All the other angels were slick and pressed and tailored, and Castiel came in with his tie loose and the first button of his shirt undone, his coat hanging off him and that hair, which Dean still found hilarious and inexplicable. And kind of charming, not that Dean would ever admit that outloud.
Cas also looked confused, which wasn't exactly a new look on him, either. "Dean," he said, in his Doom Voice. Dean was really good at ignoring Castiel's Doom Voice.
"Yeah, but," Dean muttered, because he was too busy wondering what a real kiss would feel like.
Fuck it, one way to find out. He hadn't really let go of Cas, so Dean just pulled him in again. This time, Dean kissed him like he meant it. Dean knew he was a good kisser, or at least plenty of girls had told him so, and plenty of others hadn't wanted him to stop at kissing, which Dean took as an endorsement of his skill.
So he knew what he was doing. He sucked Cas's lower lip into his mouth, nibbling a little, licking along the edge where Cas's lips met, trying to get the angel to open his mouth. Cas didn't seem to get it— he wasn't trying to pull away, exactly, but he wasn't responding either.
Dean shifted up onto his knees, putting his head higher than Cas's and giving him more leverage. One of Dean's hands had moved to the hair at the back of Cas's neck, and Dean tilted Cas's head, and finally was able to use his mouth to open Cas's. Seriously, hadn't Castiel been paying attention to humans? He probably looked away when they kissed.
Dean didn't really care anymore, though, because his tongue was in Cas's mouth and Dean knew this, this was euphoria. Dean was getting lightheaded but he was never stopping, breathing was for pussies and people not kissing angels, he had to have his tongue everywhere in Cas's mouth right now. He was using his tongue to count Cas's teeth, and that was the new number two thing on his list of Things Sam Must Never Find Out About.
Castiel was still not kissing him back, was actually holding very still. Dean was 100% sure that if Cas really wanted to stop Dean he could; he figured this was just Cas not knowing what to do. Which was kind of ridiculous, how hard was it to figure out, seriously, every time their tongues touched it was like licking a battery made of cocaine.
Dean tried to coax Cas's tongue into his mouth because he needed to suck on it for a week, but Cas didn't seem to get it. Dean was starting to see black on the edges of his vision, too, so he broke the kiss off with a growl of frustration. He dropped his head onto Cas's shoulder and gulped in air.
He'd never felt so good in his life, that was for fucking sure. "Damn," he said, laughing a little. "Holy shit, Cas." He couldn't stop laughing. Because he was high, apparently. Angel kisses, the next big drug. Better than demon blood. "Did you know that would happen?"
"Definitely not," Cas said. He sounding faintly disapproving. Also, kind of out of breath.
Right, because that was probably Cas's first kiss. Unless that prostitute had kissed him. The thought of anyone else kissing Cas annoyed Dean so he pushed it out of his mind. He felt too good to let anything harsh his buzz.
Dean laughed again. "Oh man, I just thought 'harsh my buzz.'"
"What?" Cas said. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder— the shoulder with his hand print, actually, and as it always did, Dean could feel the touch extra deep, like on his soul or whatever, and now he felt an extra tingle, not bad like electricity or a limb falling asleep, but good, like there was champagne under his skin.
Dean slumped against Cas, letting the angel hold him up. His arms were around Cas's waist— when had that happened? Cas smelled good, which of course Dean had known about, because Cas was always breathing down his neck anyway.
Dean's thoughts continued to bounce around like a toddler in a ball pit. Cas was quiet and still, maybe trying to work stuff out, maybe just freaking out. Dean was okay with either; right now, he was okay with everything.
Cas slowly raised his other arm and touched the back of Dean's head, then lowered it to Dean's shoulder. He pushed gently, but not enough to actually move Dean at all.
So Dean moved himself, straightening up and leaning back to look at Cas. This time he did look more rumpled, and Dean's hand had somehow done more than the usual damage to his hair, and there was some color on his cheeks. And his mouth was shiny and kind of swollen. "So," Dean said, eyes fixed on Cas's mouth, "we could do that again."
Cas turned his face to the side. "No."
Dean blinked. "Why?" He wasn't upset— Lucifer walking in the door would've been cool just now— he was confused. Kissing was amazing. So they should do some more of it. As much as possible.
But that was when the Impala pulled up outside. Dean would know his baby's engine anywhere. While right now he felt perfectly fine with Sam coming in and finding him all wrapped up with Castiel, Dean also knew that when this high wore off, he would be totally horrified. He couldn't really imagine horrified right now, but he did distinctly remember not wanting Sam to see him kissing Cas. Dean was completely blitzed but his logical thinking wasn't impaired at all; Cas was the best drug ever.
So he pulled away from Cas and sat on the edge of the bed. Cas stood up and lurked suspiciously against the wall. Dean started laughing. Cas totally failed at casual every time, and it never stopped being funny.
Sam came in juggling two pizza boxes and the car keys. "Thanks for the help," he grumbled, dumping the boxes on the table.
"Pizza!" Dean shouted, because suddenly he was starving. He jumped up and opened the boxes. Even Sam's veggie pizza looked good. Not good enough for Dean to ignore the pepperoni and sausage, though. "Hey Cas, want some pizza?" he called over his shoulder.
"Ihavetogo," Cas said, maybe a little faster than was humanly possible, and he was gone.
"What did you do to Cas?" Sam asked, taking his pizza to his bed and kicking off his shoes.
"Noffin'," Dean said, mouth full. He swallowed. "You should see what he did to me," he added, and starting laughing. He couldn't help it, and that made him laugh more. Everything was just so awesome, why shouldn't he laugh?
Sam was staring at him, and that was funny, too.
"Your face!" Dean wheezed, pointing.
"Are you… stoned?" Sam asked. He wasn't eating, instead gaping at Dean. "Did you get Cas stoned, Dean? Is that why he was all paranoid and left?"
"Hey, why do you think I got him stoned? Maybe he got me stoned, huh?" Dean fell back on the bed, holding his stomach. Laughing was fun but it was starting to hurt. He looked around for something to distract himself from laughing. "Hey, pizza!"
"Oh my God," Sam muttered. He started to eat his pizza, shooting wary looks at Dean. "I can't believe this."
Dean waved a piece of pizza at Sam dismissively. "Whatever dude, you're just jealous." Poor Sam didn't have an angel to kiss. "Also," Dean said thoughtfully, "need more music. Gimme your iPod."
Sam sighed and dug through his bag before throwing his iPod at Dean. "I thought you didn't like my music."
"You must have something good on here," Dean said, scrolling through the menus. "What the hell is Vampire Weekend?"
"You won't like it," Sam said.
"You're right," Dean said after 30 seconds. "Why don't you have any good music on here?"
"It is good," Sam sniped. "It's just from the 21st century, which is why you're unfamiliar with it."
Dean started giggling again. "How much Lady GaGa do you need, dude, seriously?"
"Shut up," Sam grumbled, hunching over defensively. Dean felt bad— he didn't mean to needle Sam about his non-taste in music.
"I'm sorry, Sammy," he said sincerely.
Sam stared at him. "No really, what did you take?"
"I didn't take anything," Dean said. "It's more what I gave."
"This just keeps getting worse," Sam muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Dean, what the hell?"
"Don't be mad, Sammy. Promise you won't be mad?"
Sam swallowed so hard Dean could see it from across the room. "Dean, what did you do?"
"I sold my soul to Cas," he said.
Sam didn't react for a moment. "Fine," he snapped. "Maybe you'll tell me when you sober up."
Dean shrugged. He'd tried. He went back to Sam's iPod. Sam had some Beatles in here somewhere, he was pretty sure, and although Dean usually came down on the Rolling Stones side of that, he was feeling in the mood for some Sgt. Pepper's just now.