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A Helping Hand

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In the midst of an apocalypse, one rarely has time to take notice of the small things. Even Sam is guilty of that and he's always been so observant, has always had great attention to detail. But he hasn't been paying attention to every little thing, the way he used. It's not like he's walking around with his eyes closed or anything, he's just really focused on the big picture.

That's why, when he finally does notice, it just about smacks him in the face. Literally.

Sam and Cas are in yet another in a long string of tacky hotel rooms. Dean's gone out for dinner while Sam researches, scouring the internet for any signs of Lucifer and Cas is standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for Dean to arrive so he can impart some grim news on his search for God before fluttering off again.

Sam used to find it awkward and uncomfortable to be alone in the angel's presence, especially since he wasn’t much of a conversationalist and Sam has always felt the need to fill awkward moments with asinine and needless rambling. It's not as much of an issue anymore. He's become used to the silence and is, in fact, almost comforted by the knowledge that Castiel does not expect to be entertained.

Sitting in an uncomfortable chair at a rickety table, the glow of his laptop glaring harshly into his eyes, Sam stumbles across an article mentioning a slew of electrical storms in the bottom right corner of Montana. "Cas, come take a look at this," Sam suggests, seeking the other's opinion on if it could be an omen.

Cas moves across the room and leans down over Sam's shoulder. It takes him barely a second to scan the article and before he straightens back up. "It is probably nothing, but after Dean returns, I will fly over there and look into it further."

When Sam turns to respond, he's face to crotch with the angel and his eyes widen hugely as he sees what appears to be an enormous erection straining against the front of his slacks. For a brief moment, Sam's so surprised that his mouth falls stupidly open. And when the significance of that particular action hits him, Sam throws himself back, hits the wall and drags his gaze up to the angel's face. "Holy shit, Cas! Watch where you're putting that thing."

Cas' dark eyebrows draw together and he squints in confusion. "I don't understand. What thing?"

For a moment Sam flails his hands suggestively in the general direction of Cas' crotch, which he keeps throwing guilty glances. "Ya know, your- uh- your- uh. Ya know. You do know, don't you?"

Cas' confused squint turns into his irritated squint. If he were the expressive type, he might throw his hands up in exasperation. As it is, he's not, so he just continues to glare. "How could I possibly know what you are stammering about if you will not say it?"

"You've got a hard-on!" Sam blurts out without thinking, then slaps a hand over his mouth like it just betrayed him completely. His eyes have widened so much in his mortification that they are getting dry and itchy.

"Oh." Cas' brows relax again into that same expressionless visage he usually wears. "Yes. It doesn't signify." He adds with a wave of his hand.

"But-" Sam starts then stops, weighs his next words very carefully. "How long has this been happening?"

"Since I transported you and Dean back to 1978. It took a great toll on my grace. I can no longer expend it needlessly and controlling the baser urges of my vessel is not of great importance," Castiel explains without any inflection. "Although, it is mildly uncomfortable."

Sam's expressive eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, thinking that Cas is still the king of the understatement. By the looks of it, Cas is just about to bust the zipper of his slacks open. Sam grimaces. It actually looks pretty painful. "Why don't you just, ya know, take matters into hand? So to speak."

Cas' blue eyes widen at the suggestion and he actually looks a little embarrassed. "You mean self-gratification?" he grumbles and glances away, actually blushing. Sam swallows back the urge to laugh. It's sort of…..cute. "That's unnecessary. I can certainly handle a little discomfort."

"Yeah, but why handle it when you can just, ya know, handle it?"

Cas turns back to Sam, his mouth open on a question, but he stops himself suddenly and flicks his eyes at the door. "It's not necessary, Sam. Let us never speak of it."

A second later, Dean bursts into the room, Chinese take-out in one hand and a six pack in the other. "Cas," he grumbles a greeting. "What's up?"

With Dean's arrival, Cas becomes all business and Sam tries to ignore the elephant in the room. He's just happy that Dean doesn't take any notice of Cas' condition. It's unlikely that he'd be very sensitive about it. Probably end up doing something stupid like take Cas to a brothel.


With each of Cas' following visits, he starts to become more fidgety and irritable. Dean, ever oblivious, doesn't seem to notice anything until the point where Cas loses his temper and tells Dean to "shut his stupid mouth". Even after that, Dean doesn't know why Cas is so cranky, only that he is.

Whenever he's around, Sam tries to keep his eyes from straying to the ever-present bulge in the angel's slacks, but it's one of those things. The harder you try not to look, the more likely you are to look.

This is one of the reasons that when Cas calls, at a time when Dean is out getting liquored up at the nearest bar in whatever backwater town they are currently occupying, Sam strongly considers not telling him where they are. Still, Sam's goodwill gets the better of him, he seeks out his room key and rattles off the location before he can rethink his decision.

Cas appears behind him with a fluttering sound and when Sam spins around, the angel is leaning with a hand propped against the wall. The edges of his long trench coat are hiding the evidence of his arousal, but Sam can tell from the scrunching scowl between his brows that it is no longer something Cas can easily ignore.

"I need your help," Cas croaks out between clenched teeth.

For just a moment, Sam does nothing but blink stupidly at him. "Um." It's pretty much the only response he can come up with given the awkwardness of the situation. He shakes his head to clear it a little and tries to form a fully coherent sentence. "Have you tried just…willing it away with your angel mojo?"

"Yes," Castiel hisses and shoots Sam a searing glare. "But it seems that it is beyond that point. It simply will not go away."

"Did you try, ya know, rubbing one out?"

Cas grimaces and looks away, at the wall. "I tried. I was….unsuccessful."

Sam shoves his hands in his pockets and gives the angel a helpless shrug. "Well, I'm not sure you want me to do, Cas. If you're looking to find a whore, I think Dean's better equipped to help you out."

"No!" Cas all but shouts, a mortified look painting his features. He takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself. "No. I do not want some strange, self-loathing woman to touch me."

"Well," Sam gives another shrug. "What do you want me to do?"

Cas' eyes narrow and he pushes himself away from the wall. "I'm fairly certain that staring stupidly at me won't help at all," he bites out. "Come over here."

Sam blinks at him. "Huh?"

"Come. Here." Cas growls.

"Uh, Cas. I don't know what you think is going to happen here, but I'm not-"

In the blink of an eye, Cas is away from the wall and right in front of Sam, swaying into his personal space. "I need your help, Sam," Cas says again, breath hot against Sam's throat.

Sam tries to stumble back, but falls back against the nightstand that's between the two double beds. Cas follows him so closely that one of his legs slides between Sam's thighs. "Why-why does it have to be me? Why can't we just go find you a girl?"

"It has to be you, Sam. You're the only one I trust." One of Cas' hands curls around Sam's bicep and another one slides over the flat plain of his abs.

If trying to push Cas away was even a viable option, his words make it an impossibility. Trust. Cas said he trusted Sam. It didn't make any sense. "But-Dean."

"Dean is forever mocking me," Cas says, rough lips catching against Sam's chin. "He thinks I don't understand his sarcastic quips, but I do."

Sam sucks in a gasp of breath, trying to focus on the hard edge of the nightstand against the back of his thighs instead of the warm flesh pressing in against him. The distance between their bodies is now completely closed and he can feel Cas' urgent erection nudging his thigh.

"You're always so kind to me, Sam. You never forget what I am. You never forget that I don't belong here." The desperation in Cas' voice is like a punch to Sam's gut. He reaches out for something to hold onto, it just happens to be Cas' back. He grips the loose material of trench coat.

"Okay, Cas. Whatever you need."

"Thank you," Cas sighs against Sam's mouth and then he's being thrown onto one of the beds. He can't remember if it's his bed or Dean's because just as suddenly he's being covered, has a hundred and sixty pounds of hot angel straddling him and grinding down.

Cas pulls open his over shirt, the buttons popping off. "I would very much like to see your skin," Cas explains as one hand glides up and under his t-shirt, skimming the tight muscles of his stomach. They twitch with the sensation and Sam is suddenly remembering that it's been months since he has been touched like this. It doesn't seem to matter that it's an angel touching him or that it's a male angel, all that matters is that he's getting hard too.

T-shirt now bunched up under his chin, slim fingers slide down his chest, over one nipple and the ridges of his abs. "You have a very lovely body, Sam," Cas tells him, staring down at his bared skin, eyes just a bit glazed over.

"You might want to take off some of your clothes," Sam suggests, his voice catching on the last word. His dick is fully hard now and he doesn't resist the urge to thrust up against Cas. This was the angel's idea after all, he might as well get something out of it too.

For a second he thinks the angel might just mojo away both of their clothes, thinks that would be a pretty spiffy trick if he did, but he doesn't. He just pushes up on his knees, drags off the trench and blazer, quickly and efficiently. The tie goes next, but his fingers stumble over the buttons. Sam is just about to reach up and give him a hand when Cas loses patience and just tears the shirt open, revealing a smooth expanse of pale, hairless chest.

"You're, uh, you're kinda sexy, Cas. You know, for a guy," Sam mutters and wonders if he should maybe touch him, but isn't quite sure how.

"This is not my body," Cas reminds him and leans back down to peel Sam's shirts off of him. He stops and looks down, tilting his head in quiet contemplation. "Should we kiss?"

Sam breathes out a chuckle. "Probably, unless you want me to feel cheap and dirty."

"Would you find this more exciting if I were to humiliate you? I know some humans find that appealing," Cas asks, looking extremely curious.

"Oh, Jesus, Cas," Sam says, pushing up and grabbing Cas by the back of the neck. "Just stop talking." He pulls the angel down for a kiss. It's clumsy and stilted, but he licks his way into Cas' hot mouth and their sliding tongues make it a little better. "Open your pants," he gasps against Cas' chapped lips.

While Cas fumbles with the fly of his slacks, Sam pops open the buttons of his jeans. He lifts his hips and pushes them down just enough to free his hard cock. It's full and leaking and he kinda can't believe how hot he's getting, but then he's taking in the sight of Cas. His own arousal pretty much pales in comparison.

"Come here," Sam pants and pulls Cas down by his arms. He lifts his hips and their cocks slide together. A soft sigh escapes Cas' open mouth, hot against Sam's chin. He holds his weight up on his elbows as Sam insinuates his arm between their bodies and grasps them both in his large hand.

Cas muffles a groan against Sam's shoulder and bucks into the firm grip, cock sliding sinuously against Sam's. It's absurdly erotic, the way Cas' labored breath paints a pool of moisture against his neck as he pumps his fist and thrusts along with Cas. He doesn't have to do much work really, just keep his grip tight enough and let Cas press his hips rhythmically against his own.

Sam wants just a little more pressure, just a little harder and faster, so he reaches out and grabs Cas' ass and pulls as he pushes up. The sweat-slick glide and grind against his hot flesh has Sam panting too. Stubble catches roughly against his cheek, a soft wet tongue tastes the salt on his skin. He wishes Cas was between his thighs instead of the other way around so he could wrap himself entirely around that tight, compact form that's going almost manic for release.

"Come on, Cas," Sam whispers low and uneven. "Fuck. Mmmm."

It's possibly a little pathetic that Sam's the first one to come, since Cas is the one that's been in a near constant state of arousal for weeks, but it's just so good. The tension coils tight in his belly and then snaps. He jerks under the force of his orgasm, shooting hot come over their bellies and Sam's hand. The slick heat gives Cas just the push he needs and with a few hard, stilted thrusts he's pulsing in Sam's hand, his seed mixing with Sam's against their flushed skin.

They lay against each other for a moment, breathing in each other's scent, letting the aftershocks and tremors work over their bodies. Finally, once they've calmed just a bit, Cas rolls off of Sam and blinks up at the ceiling. He starts to speak, but his voices catches, so he clears his throat. Sam finds that possibly the most human thing Cas has ever done. "You are very kind to me, Sam."

Sam chuckles and wipes a hand down his face, the one that isn't sticky with come. "Yeah, I'm a real humanitarian."

His bones still feel all melty, but Sam forces himself to sit up. He has no idea when Dean will be back and he'd rather not be covered in an angel's spunk when he does. "Aw, crap," he mumbles. "This is Dean's bed."

Much to his surprise, that statement pulls a chuckle from the angel whose still lying languidly beside him. The chuckle builds into a laugh and suddenly Sam is seeing the angel shake with mirth for the first time ever. He starts to think that he might've broken Dean's angel and wonders what he'll be more in trouble for, that or getting jizz all over Dean's duvet.