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A Supernatural Menagerie

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Dress for Success


Sam knew Dean and Castiel were fucking. They’d never told him, per se, but Sam knew. And it wasn’t because of any brotherly bond crap. It was because of clothing. Or rather, a lack of it.

It started with Castiel.

Sam was used to Castiel doing weird things in the bunker. Said things included but were not limited to, making pb and j’s and not eating them, reading books backwards, filling the coffee pot with honey, opening every single door in the bunker, and of course, walking around at night completely naked. The first time Sam caught him, he slopped tea all over his front. He took a steadying breath and politely informed Castiel that humans do not do this.

Then there was Dean.

Dean was the one who made Sam think it was all in his head. Dean always acted completely normal, until one night when Sam making tea.

Sam was walking out of the kitchen when Castiel passed him, butt-naked once again. Sam caught his tea and reminded Castiel that clothes exist and should be worn at all times. A half hour later, Sam was bringing his dishes back to the kitchen and found Dean drinking orange juice from the carton, standing in front of the refrigerator. Also naked. Sam shouted in surprise.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam gawked at him.

Dean paused, then shrugged and finished the carton off.

“You can’t… just. Oh god.”

“God has left the building, Sammy.”

“Clearly.” Sam skirted around him like he was contagious and dropped his dishes in the sink.

“Hey, the human body is nothing to ashamed of. It’s a thing of beauty.” Dean informed him, “Don’t censor me.”

“I’m not, I…!” Sam blinked furiously, determinedly looking Dean in the eye, “I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” Dean replied cheerily, “Goodnight.”

But before Sam could leave the kitchen, he bumped into Castiel in the doorway. Castiel wearing an old AC/DC shirt and jeans, and was barefoot. Sam and Dean both stared at him. It was just as jarring, if not more so, than walking in on someone naked.

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel said. He looked to Dean and, like Sam, found himself staring. Except Castiel’s eyes fell straight down, “Dean.” He greeted him stiffly.

Dean didn’t seem to care. He was in a daze. He’d never seen Castiel wearing those kind of clothes. His clothes.

“Cas that’s...” Sam started, “That’s not really what I meant...”

Castiel and Dean both ignored him.

Sam took a sharp breath, looking between them, “Mhm. Uh, um.” His expression fell, “Nope, not touching this. Goodnight.” He strode past Castiel and disappeared down the hall.

Dean cleared his throat and Castiel finally looked up.

“You should wear my stuff more often...” Dean said shakily, “Like, seriously. That’s fucking hot.”

Castiel squinted at him.

That’s when Sam reappeared, “Okay. New rule.” Dean rolled his eyes, “Clothes. You have to wear clothes. Both of you. All the time! I don’t care what you do behind closed doors but...” He sighed exasperatedly, “In the kitchen? C’mon.” He said, then left without another word.

Dean winked at Castiel.

Sam’s knowledge of Dean and Castiel’s relationship didn’t seem to hinder them at all. In fact, neither Winchester got much sleep that night.


Castiel sensed that the clothes thing was one of those ‘kinks’ Dean never clearly expressed but obviously enjoyed, so Castiel started wearing his shirts under his suits when they went out. On one particularly messy werewolf hunt, Castiel got injured and tore his suit. While Dean was fixing him up, he noticed his old Metallica shirt peaking out from beneath Castiel’s ripped button up. Dean froze.

They were in a dilapidated cabin deep in the words. Sam was out securing the perimeter. Castiel’s chest was heaving from the fight and he was flushed and roughed up. Combined with him secretly wearing Dean’s shirt, Dean couldn’t help himself. Once Castiel was bandaged, Dean jumped him. Soon Castiel’s suit things were on the floor and he’d been stripped to that Metallica shirt with his dress pants around his knees, and Dean was fucking him into the cabin floor.

It took a lot of practice to get good at fucking Castiel. Fortunately, Dean had a lot of practice. He knew exactly how fast and hard to thrust to get Castiel to start panting. Then he’d find that spot and Castiel would shudder and close his eyes. Once he started moaning Dean’s name and arching his back, Dean knew he was in the clear. He reared up and took control, working his hips rough and fast, twisting his hand over the hand of Cas’s leaking cock.

Sam heard Castiel shouting from a mile away and sprinted back to the cabin. All Dean heard was the door slamming open, a shotgun cocking, and then Sam sputtering in disbelief.

“Really? Goddamnit, Dean!” Sam exclaimed.

Dean covered their waists with the trench coat, “Five minutes, Sam, please.”

“Unbelievable.” Sam walked away, “I’m going to go burn my eyes out with holy fire.”

“Sam, no.” Castiel panted.

“He’s kidding.” Dean said, resuming his thrusts.

Castiel groaned and dropped his head on the floor.

“No, I’m not!” Sam’s voice shouted.

“Shut the door!” Dean yelled back, “Pervert!”

There was a flustered, indignant noise as Sam slammed the door shut and waited with his shotgun outside.

“Great plan, Dean.” Sam muttered to himself, “If another werewolf comes I’ll just tell them to form a queue. ‘Your murder is very important to us.’” Sam huffed, “Once my brother’s done getting ass we’ll be right with you.”

The next few hours were spent killing werewolves. By the time they were done the whole pack had been extinguished, and even Sam had to admit that Dean and Castiel were in rare form. So Sam decided he’d give them a break; that and start entering rooms with a hand over his eyes.


When they returned to the bunker Dean went to his room to get cleaned up and Sam started the laundry. He was able to get all of the blood stains out of Castiel’s suit, plus a stain Sam refused to let Castiel explain. They hadn’t been able to find the trenchcoat he’d been wearing, however, so Castiel went looking for it in Dean’s room. He found it.

On Dean.

Dean was sprawled out on his bed, naked except for the coat which he wore like a robe. An open robe.

“Oh hey.” Dean said, “Were you… looking for something?” He feigned looking around.

A smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. He licked his lips and joined Dean on the bed. Dean grinned.

Dean was pleased to see a fire in Castiel’s eyes as he drank in the sight before him. Castiel smoothed his hands up Dean’s body, from his thighs to his shoulders, tracing every line and muscle framed so perfectly by that open coat. Castiel’s coat.

“That’s...” Castiel rasped, “That’s not how you’re supposed to wear it.”

Dean closed his eyes and smiled, “You don’t seem to mind.” He could already feel Castiel’s growing erection pressing into his leg.

Castiel couldn’t deny that. Castiel stripped while Dean idly stroked himself, something he knew drove Castiel wild. Sure enough, once Castiel was naked he settled between Dean’s legs, captured Dean’s hands, and pinned them above his head.

Dean felt a jolt of arousal. He loved it when Castiel got like this.

Dean let Castiel fuck him in his trench coat, and was thrilled to find that Castiel took his time. Castiel was normally all instinct and passion when he topped, but tonight was different. Tonight he wanted to claim Dean; He wanted to mark him on the inside as completely as his trenchcoat did on the outside.

“Dean...” Castiel growled his name, “I think I understand now.”

“Do you?” Dean breathed. It took all his strength to speak with Castiel fucking the breath out of him. He didn’t bottom often, but when he did it reminded him just how awesome it was sleeping with an angel. Castiel was a force of nature, raw and powerful, ravaging Dean over and over again.

Castiel nodded, pupils blown and lips parted, “It’s… ‘fucking hot’.” He rasped. He swerved his hips and angled a thrust into Dean’s prostate. Dean moaned shamelessly. Castiel felt a rush of satisfaction as Dean’s witty retort fell apart on his lips. He wove their fingers together above Dean’s head, then proceeded to fuck him senseless for hours.

That night, Sam put on rain sounds before bed. He’d asked to borrow Dean’s noise canceling headphones earlier and, to his surprise, Dean complied readily. Sam tried not to think about it as he fell asleep.


In the morning, Sam was surprised to find Dean awake first. He was sipping coffee and sitting funny at the Men of Letter’s table, looking oddly at peace with the world. Sam poured himself a cup and joined Dean in silence.

“So...” Sam spoke up.

Dean glanced at him.

“How was your night?”

“Shut up.”

Sam smiled, “So, you realize that you’re… um. You and Cas. You know...”

Dean was barely awake, but he knew where this was going, “Don’t say it.”


Dean stared at Sam. Sam was trying, and failing, to hold back a grin. Finally, Dean cracked a smile, “Yeah. I know.”

They shared a mutual silence, both of them smiling to themselves.

“We should make bumper stickers.”

“No.” Dean said firmly.

Sam didn’t say another word. After all, what more could he want for his brother? And maybe, just maybe, the clothing thing was kind of cute. Kind of.