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In Sam's defense…

Actually, no, not even in his own head is Sam able to justify this monumental fuck-up. He knows the bunker is chock-full of all kinds of mysterious and dangerous shit, and after they accidentally broke that damn jar a few years ago and let out the actual Wicked Witch of the West, he knows better than to touch anything in the bunker that looks even the slightest bit suspicious. He just got so excited when he stumbled upon yet another secret room, this one full of shelves of ancient-looking objects. Honestly, he's not entirely sure he wasn't somehow compelled to reach out and touch the statue because he doesn't even remember deciding to do it. One moment he's standing awe-struck in the doorway to the hidden room and the next he's looking down at his hand where he's holding an old ceramic statue of a man with an extremely prominent erection while a feeling of thick and unnatural lust begins to sweep through him.

"Oh, fuck me."

He quickly sets the statue back on the shelf where he got it, but the desire inside him continues to build—of course it's not as simple as just putting the damn thing back down. Thankfully the Men of Letters were thorough in their cataloguing, and Sam makes note of the number on the placard in front of the statue before grabbing the ledger hanging on a hook by the door. He flips through it as his cock begins to swell entirely without prompting, already certain he's dealing with some kind of lust curse. The only question is how bad it's gonna get and how he can stop it. He really hopes it's not fatal, and really, really hopes that whatever he needs to do to remove it won't require him asking another favor from Rowena.

Cursed Pre-Columbian Moche Erotic Ceramic Statue of Man with Erect Phallus
Dated 400 - 600 AD, Northern Coast of Peru

Risk Assessment: Moderate

Curse details: Requires sexual congress with a partner for whom the accursed has some meaningful connection. Penetration is not required; mutual orgasm appears to be sufficient to satisfy the curse. The afflicted will feel increasing desire until the curse is satisfied. Failure to achieve orgasm with suitable partner within four hours will result in death.

Of course it will.

Sam groans and slams the ledger shut. Four hours is too tight a timeframe for them to look for a counter-spell, especially without Rowena immediately on hand. Which leaves option number one. Sex. With somebody he cares about.

Too bad most of those people are dead.

He racks his brain trying to think of a suitable option. Eileen is the first person who comes to mind. She's cute and funny and smart as hell. A great hunter. They have a connection, no doubt about it. He knows she likes him, and he likes her, too. Too much to lead her on, which is why he never made a move, despite being fairly certain she wouldn't turn him down. Sam knows she'd do this for him, and it wouldn't be any hardship for him, either, but unfortunately she's in fucking Ireland, and there's no way she'll be able to get to the bunker in the next four hours.

Four hours.

Sam can count the people he has a meaningful connection with on both hands and still have fingers to spare, and even if most of those people were up for a roll in the hay, nearly everybody he knows is more than four hours away from the bunker. There are only two people who are physically close enough to make the time limit.

In fact, they're both in the bunker right now.

Sam knows either one of them would step up to the plate to save Sam's life, no matter how distasteful they found the curse's requirements. Sam also knows which one of them he wants to ask. The one he's been in love with for as far back as he can remember, the one person in the world who'd do absolutely anything for Sam. And Dean would do anything, even have sex with Sam if Sam asked him to, if Sam told him his life was at stake. Fuck, but there's a part of Sam that wants to do it, too, wants to give himself this one chance to have Dean the way he's always wanted him. But it wouldn't be real, and Sam's not sure either one of them would ever recover from the aftermath.

Which means it has to be Castiel.

It's not fair to ask it of him, either. Sam knows how Castiel feels about his brother, and just like with Dean, Sam knows Castiel will do whatever he needs to if it means saving Sam's life. Sam's not the one Castiel wants, and Castiel's not the one Sam wants either. It's a shitty situation all around, but Castiel is the best choice, the only choice really.

But first, Sam needs to get Dean out of the bunker. If he and Castiel are going to do this, then he doesn't want Dean anywhere near them. He doesn't want Dean to ever find out.

"Hey, Dean?"

He wanders towards the library where Dean's got several books spread out in front of him, continuing to scour their resources for information about Dagon.

"Yeah?" Dean looks over at him, his expression immediately creasing with concern. Sam's feeling feverish and a bit weak, his cock hard enough to pound nails, though thankfully the thick denim of his jeans seems to hide that fact well enough. But he must look terrible for Dean to be gazing at him with such obvious worry.

"Woah, you don't look so hot."

Sam grimaces and does his best to look pathetic. "Yeah, I think I'm coming down with something. I was hoping maybe you could run to the store and pick up some cold medicine? We're out."

Dean frowns. "Why don't you just have Cas zap you better?"

Right… he should have anticipated that counter-argument. He scrambles to think of a believable excuse. "I will if I'm not better before we have to leave on a hunt or if we find Kelly again, but… I don't know, man, I feel bad using Cas as our own personal healer, especially for something small like a cold."

Dean nods like Sam's reasoning makes sense, which it really doesn't, but Sam will take it.

"Yeah, man, I get it. But you know he's happy to help, right?"

"I know, but it's not worth him wasting his grace, at least not yet. But I could use some medicine. And maybe some ginger ale?"

Dean rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond, indulgent, and Sam's stomach flutters. For all his bluster and grumbling, Dean always takes care of Sam, and there's something unbearably comforting about knowing Sam can count on his big brother, even if it's just asking him to pick up some Dayquil.

"Sure thing, Sammy. Was planning on making a beer run tonight anyway. You need anything else?"

Sam shakes his head, watching as Dean grabs his jacket and keys.

"I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep so if you could just leave the stuff in the kitchen when you get back, I'll look for it there when I wake up." He really doesn't need Dean barging in if he gets back before he and Castiel finish up.

"Okay, you try and rest." Dean reaches out and squeezes Sam's shoulder. His touch is always welcome, grounding and comforting, but with the curse racing through Sam it feels like a brand. It takes everything Sam has not to moan at the contact and push Dean against the wall for a kiss. He forces a smile that feels more like a grimace.

"Will do. Thanks, Dean."

"Yeah, 'course."

Sam watches as he heads to the garage, waiting until he hears the Impala's engine turn over before he goes looking for Castiel.

"Cas! Cas, where are you?"

Castiel appears from around the corner, his expression tight with worry.

"Sam… are you okay?"

Sam lets out a bark of hysterical laughter. "No, I'm really not. And I need to ask you a very big and possibly inappropriate favor."

He heads into his bedroom and Castiel obediently follows.

"Of course. Name it."

"I've been cursed," Sam says as he closes the door and props himself up against it, his knees feeling a bit weak. "I need to have sex with somebody I care about in the next"—he looks down at his watch—"three hours and thirty-two minutes, or I die."

Castiel's eyes grow round. "I… see. Am I to assume by the request of a favor that you are asking me to help you satisfy the curse's requirement?"

Sam feels his cheeks grow warm and he clears his throat. "I, um, yes? Yes. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to. I know we don't have that kind of a relationship and I'm not looking to change that, but you're pretty much the only option I've got."

"What about Dean?" Castiel cocks his head, his gaze penetrating and implacable. "Your connection to him is more than strong enough. He'd help you if you asked."

Sam winces. "Yes, he would, but he shouldn't have to. If you"—he clears his throat—"if you can't, then I'll ask him. But I'm really hoping you'll do this for me."

Castiel is silent for a moment before he nods. "Of course, Sam. What do you need me to do?"

"Right, yes, okay, we're doing this." Sam hasn't actually given the logistics much thought beyond getting Castiel to agree. Now that he has, the enormity of the situation hits Sam and he feels a little faint. Or maybe that's just the curse ramping up. "Clothes off?"

Castiel begins to strip off his trench coat and suit without so much as a by-your-leave. His movements are precise and economical, with Castiel folding each piece of clothing as he removes them before setting them on Sam's dresser. Sam lets out a fond smile as he removes his own clothes with far less grace and precision. His body grows warmer, not cooler, as he takes everything off, the curse sending pleasant tingles radiating out through his limbs. Sam's cock is hard and it gives an appreciative twitch when he looks over at Castiel, who's fully naked by the door.

Sam's never really seen him undressed and he's almost surprised to note how fit Castiel looks. Not that Sam's given it much thought, but the cheap suit and baggy trench coat really don't do Castiel's body any favors. His biceps are surprisingly well-muscled, his thighs are powerfully thick, and his stomach is absent the layer of pudge common in most men his vessel's age. His cock is small and soft between his legs, but even as Sam looks his fill he sees it begin to twitch and thicken, and Sam can't help the rush of genuine pleasure at knowing he's the cause.

"What now?" Castiel asks, and Sam wonders if he's done this before. Sam knows Castiel's had sex, at least with women, and he's aware that gender isn't really important to Castiel in terms of physical attraction, but he has no idea if he's acted on that attraction with men. If he's ever touched a dick that didn't belong to his vessel.

"Do you, um… have you ever had sex with a man before?"

Castiel's brow furrows. "I know what I'm doing, Sam." Sam raises an eyebrow and Castiel lets out an annoyed huff before adding on, "Theoretically."

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on doing anything too elaborate. The curse doesn't require penetration, so I was thinking just hand jobs, maybe?"

Castiel gives him a considering look. "We should be on the bed. In the videos they are usually on a bed."

Sam laughs. "Yeah, okay, let's get on the bed." This is already the weirdest sexual experience of his life and they haven't even done anything sexual yet. Not that his dick seems to be aware of that fact, considering he didn't even know his dick could get this hard. It's honestly getting pretty difficult to function, which he supposes is the curse's way of telling him to get a move on before his blood literally boils.

He sits on the bed and Castiel sits next to him before staring placidly at the wall. Fuck, this is worse than when he was an awkward teenager with no idea how to put the moves on Mandy Sterling from Chemistry.


"You should lie down," Castiel says. His voice is surprisingly firm, decisive. Sam's pretty sure he's mentally playing some porn video he watched and using it as a step-by-step instruction manual. But hey, it's more than Sam's been contributing, so he lies back on the bed, his erection sticking straight up in the air and all but begging to be touched.

Castiel turns and looks at him, his head cocking to the side as he stares curiously at Sam's dick. Sam feels weirdly like some kind of science experiment.

"I was given to understand that penis size in pornography was not representative of most human males, but you appear to be similarly endowed."

Sam's cheeks grow warm. "Uh… thanks? I guess?"

"It was merely an observation. Though I have also observed that human males seem to have an irrational sense of pride when it comes to the size of their penis despite it being merely a random chance of genetics."

"Um, Cas? Not that I don't appreciate the commentary on my dick, but I'm sort of cursed here, so maybe…"

"Yes, of course, my apologies. Should I just—"

He reaches out and brushes his fingertips against the shaft and a bolt of pure, electric pleasure zaps through Sam's body. He gasps and lets out a ragged moan. Cas retracts his hand as if burned, eyes filled with alarm.

"Are you all right?"

Sam nods eagerly. "Yeah, yes, more than. That felt awesome. But maybe…"

He reaches out and grabs hold of Castiel's surprisingly large bicep and tugs, pulling him until he's half-lying across Sam's body. He's heavy, and awkward, and makes no effort to properly arrange himself. Sam lets out an aggrieved sigh.

"Dude, work with me here."

Castiel bristles. "Perhaps if you were to tell me what you are trying to accomplish—"

"I'm trying to get you on top of me." It's been awhile since the last time Sam's had sex, but he doesn't remember it being so difficult. Then again, he's never had sex with a multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent, so he supposes he should cut him and Castiel some slack as they work through the kinks. "It'll be easier to get off that way."

Castiel wrinkles his nose. "That's not how—"

"Just trust me, okay? There's more than one way to skin a cat."

Castiel seems horrified. "I was not aware this act would require the flaying of a feline. I do not think—"

"It's an expression, Cas! Just—"

Sam tugs, this time really putting his back into it, and Castiel finally settles on top of him, straddling Sam's thighs. His stomach presses down against Sam's erection and Sam can't help but roll up into the pressure, every place where Castiel is touching him an electric point of contact. His entire body feels like one raw nerve, and Sam didn't know it was possible to experience this much sensation at once. He's pretty sure the human body isn't meant to, which can't be a good sign.

"Are you all right?"

Castiel is staring down at him, wide blue eyes swimming with concern, and Sam feels a rush of fondness that seems at odds with the molton lust pulsing through his veins. He likes Castiel, loves him, really, and his vessel is objectively attractive, even if Sam's never really thought of Castiel in that way. It's a bit awkward and unexpected to be plastered together like this, naked and hard and wanting, but it's not bad. It's kind of nice, actually, doing this with somebody he cares about, even if it's not in quite the right way. He doesn't have the best track record when it comes to sex and lately there's always this underlying fear of future betrayal, of not-quite-safe that prevents him from fully losing himself in the moment. But he knows Castiel, trusts him with his life, and Sam has faith that they'll get through this momentary blip unscathed.

He just needs to get off first.

"Okay, I'm just gonna—" He slides his hands down Castiel's broad back and grips his ass, giving himself leverage as he begins to grind up against him. Sam's dick slides against Castiel's erection, leaking so much precome there's no need for lube to ease the way. The friction's amazing, perfect, and it gets even better when Castiel seems to catch on to the plan and thrusts down against Sam, his hips moving in a supringinly sinuous rhythm that sends sparks skittering down Sam's spine.

"Oh," Sam moans, his breaths ragged and heart racing. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, just like that."

It shouldn't be possible to be so turned on, to experience so much pleasure from a bit of platonic frottage. Sam's a little concerned about what his orgasm's going to be like since every time Castiel screws down against him it feels like his pores are leaking euphoric bliss. Castiel seems to be enjoying himself as well. His eyes are dark and fixed on Sam's with that unnerving, unblinking stare of his, but the high flush on his cheeks and the occasional gasp of surprised pleasure give him away.

"How are—you feeling?" Castiel asks between thrusts, his mouth so close the words ghost against Sam's lips.

"Fucking insane," Sam replies. He feels drunk, soaring higher and higher the closer he gets to orgasm. Fuck, he really hopes he doesn't literally explode when he comes. It'd probably ruin sex for Castiel for the rest of his (infinite) life. And he really must be a bit delirious because he lets out a bark of hysterical laughter at the thought of his brother coming home and Castiel having to explain to Dean that he literally screwed Sam to death.

"Yes, I see that," Castiel says, his tone concerned. But he doesn't stop thrusting, and that's all that Sam really cares about at this point, so close to coming he can practically taste it.

"Almost there," Sam pants, digging his fingers into the meat of Castiel's ass. Castiel must be close as well because his hips begin to move faster and his breath grows uneven as he ruts against Sam.

"Come on, come on, come—"

Sam comes.

Comes so hard he must black out because the next thing he's aware of is Castiel's hands on his cheek and shoulder, gently shaking him as he says, "Sam? Sam, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Sam replies somewhat groggily. He feels like he just went ten rounds with a poltergeist but he no longer feels the burning thrum of the curse through his veins, which is a relief. It worked.

"Good." Castiel rolls off onto his back next to Sam, reminding Sam that they're both still naked. Because they just had sex. With each other. He looks down at his stomach and groin, covered in a veritable lake of come, and when he glances over at Castiel he notes his dick is similarly sticky and soft. At least he got off, too.

"Hand me that box of Kleenex, would you?"

"That won't be necessary." Castiel reaches out and touches Sam's forehead and in the blink of an eye he's clean and fluid-free.

Sam snorts. "I thought that was for broken bones and shit, not clean-up on aisle three."

Castiel gives him a quizzical glance. "My grace is… multi-purpose."

"Yeah, I see that. Um… thanks, man. For helping me out."

"The curse has been lifted, then?"

"Yup. Good as new. I know it was a lot to ask."

Castiel shakes his head. "Of course it wasn't. You know I'd do anything within my power to help you."

"Yeah, I know." Sam hesitates. He's been debating bringing something up with Castiel for awhile; immediately after having sex together is probably not the right time, and yet… "But I'm not the Winchester you're in love with."

Castiel's eyes widen in surprise. "You know?

"I do. Have you ever thought of telling him?"

A long pause. "Dean's never been with a man."

"You're not a man."

Castiel nods in acknowledgement. "No, but my vessel is male. Dean thinks of me as male."

"Well we both know that just because Dean's never acted on it, that doesn't mean he isn't attracted to men."

Castiel sighs heavily and nods as he looks up at the ceiling. "Even so, there's a reason he hasn't acted on it. And it is not merely the 'internalized homophobia' that I've come to understand is disturbingly prevalent among males of Dean's general demographic, though that is certainly present. Of course, that has always been less of a concern for Dean than the… the other thing." Castiel gives Sam a significant look. "I think you know that."

It's Sam's turn to let out a heavy sigh. He supposes he deserves that for bringing this topic up in the first place. "Yeah, I think I do. But if there was any 'man' he'd go for, who better than you, Cas?"

Castiel turns to him and raises a single eyebrow. It's surprisingly hot, and Sam wishes, for just a moment, that they could have fallen for one another. Sam gives him a wistful smile and shakes his head gently.

"Not in this lifetime, Cas. Dean won't cross that line, not ever, not of his own accord. Why do you think I called you in for this?" He gestures at their still-naked bodies. "Like you said, he'd have done it in an instant to save me, but he wouldn't have ever forgiven himself for it."

"Always the second choice." Castiel's tone is amused, but Sam flinches at the implication of his words just the same.

"Cas, you know that's not…"

Castiel reaches out, brushes a thumb across one of Sam's cheekbones and presses it against his lips, quieting him. "It's all right, I'm not offended. I know how much you both care for me, and the bond you and your brother share is unique. Special. It's no hardship to come second to that, I promise you."

Sam nods. He believes him.

"You wouldn't…" Castiel's face creases in thought. "Wouldn't that upset you? If I were to tell Dean how I felt."

"You mean would it bother me if he returned your feelings."

Castiel nods. "Since you're also in love with Dean."

Sam's lips twitch into a smile as he stares up at the ceiling. "Since I'm also in love with Dean," he agrees. For as long as he's known how he feels about his brother, he's never actually said the words out loud before. The confession is surprisingly freeing. "But no, Cas, I wouldn't mind. Maybe… if I thought there was ever a chance he'd say yes to me, that we could be together, then maybe I'd be jealous. But I made my peace with the fact that it would never happen a long time ago. I just want Dean to be happy. It's been"—Sam's voice breaks and he clears his throat—"it's been a long time since I've seen him happy."

"Are you so sure he'd turn you down?"

Sam gives Castiel an incredulous stare, and Castiel gazes somewhat sheepishly back. "You have met him, right?"

"I have." Castiel hesitates before offering somewhat tentatively, "You must know he returns your feelings. That there is nobody he could ever place above you."

"Yeah, I know." Sam's eyes sting and his throat is thick with emotion. He takes a few moments to calm himself. For all the shit that's gone down between him and his brother, he's never once doubted how much Dean loves him. "But honestly, I'm not even sure he's aware of how he feels about me. Consciously anyway. I mean maybe he is, on some level, but knowing Dean he's buried those desires so fucking deep it'd take a miracle to excavate them. And maybe I could get him to give in, to give us what we both want, but doing that…" He shakes his head. "It would break him, Cas. It doesn't matter how pure our feelings are, he'll never be able to see it as anything other than wrong, and he'd end up hating himself for it in the end. Hating me, too. I won't do that to him."

"Perhaps you're right." Castiel sounds even more upset about it than Sam is. But Sam's had years to come to terms with it, and he knows Castiel just wants what Sam does: for Dean to be happy, to allow himself to be happy.

"For all his posturing, Dean's wanted a home, a family, more than even I ever did. You've seen how he's fucking flourished in this goddamn bunker, having a room of his own, cooking actual meals, a garage for his Baby. And he settles for one night stands because he thinks that's all he can get, but in his heart, he wants something real. Having somebody to love, who loves him back, somebody who's in the life, who he can trust to take care of themselves and to watch his back… I want that for Dean."

"And you think I can give it to him."

"Who better? Plus… you understand us. Neither Dean or I has ever had a long-term relationship survive while the other is in the picture. We're not like normal siblings." Sam snorts and Castiel grins at him. "Obviously. But you know how I feel about Dean, how Dean probably feels about me. You wouldn't try and change that or try and keep us apart."

"I would not." Castiel is silent for another long moment, and when he speaks again, his tone is almost regretful. "If I thought Dean would agree to it, that it was what he truly needed, that it would make him happy, I would tell him how I feel."

Sam sighs. "But you don't think it would work." He's not surprised.

"I do not," Castiel doesn't seem particularly devastated, and Sam figures he's not the only one who has given their future with Dean a lot of thought. "I don't disagree with your assessment that Dean craves a long-term partner, but I think he needs me to be his friend more. I would like to be able to give him the love he deserves, and I think there's a part of him that could love me like that in return, even if I'm not who he truly wants." He holds up a hand when Sam tries to protest. "No, Sam, I told you, I don't mind coming second, I don't mind being the one Dean settles for because he can't bring himself to be with his soulmate. But Dean has some complicated associations with sex and romance, and I think trying to add that to our existing relationship would only confuse things, make it harder for him. He needs me to be Cas, his best friend, more than he needs a lover."

Sam gives Cas a wry smile. What a pair they are. "You're probably right. I just want him to get what he wants, you know? He deserves it."

Castiel looks at him, his blue eyes unfathomable. "And what do you deserve, Sam?"


"I'm in love with your brother, but I love you, too, Sam. If neither of us will burden Dean with our feelings, perhaps we could… take comfort in one another." He reaches out somewhat hesitantly, placing a hand on Sam's bare shoulder. The touch is warm. Nice. "I enjoyed making you feel good."

"Yeah, I enjoyed that, too." Sam smiles and huffs a laugh. "If you can't love the one you want, love the one you're with, huh?"

"Yes… I suppose that is accurate."

Sam gives himself a moment to truly consider it. Pictures having Castiel to turn to for comfort when the urge to reach out and touch his brother becomes almost too much to bear, to be with somebody who knows the score and won't expect things he can't give.

"I won't lie, it's tempting," Sam says, looking Castiel in the eyes, conveying the truth of his words… and his regret. "I've given up on any hope of a real relationship for myself, you know? it wouldn't be fair on the other person, not with the life we lead and with the way I feel about Dean. I know now that nobody is ever gonna be more important to me than my brother, and it'd be shitty to get serious with somebody knowing they'll always be second place. I'm no Dean, but I can make due with the occasional one night stand, scratch that itch when the urge arises. That's enough. As long as I have Dean in my life, it's enough."

"But?" Castiel asks when Sam fails to continue.

"But," Sam confirms. "But we can't do this again, not unless there's another curse, which, knowing our luck, isn't entirely outside the realm of possibility." They exchange wry smiles and Sam continues, "We both know if Dean found out, it would hurt him. We're adults, and it's not really any of his business, but he sees us as his, you know? His best friend and his brother. He'd feel betrayed if he knew we were having sex, even casually, and as nice as it'd be to have somebody I trusted to blow off a bit of steam with on occasion, it's not worth hurting Dean over."

"Yes, I suppose you are right." Castiel sighs in obvious annoyance. "What a frustratingly human situation."

Sam laughs loudly. "I don't know if a gay love triangle involving two brothers and an angel is really a common human situation, Cas."

Castiel huffs. "It is still irritating."

"Hey, no argument here. But at least we all still have each other, right? It's messy and complicated, but that's only because we all love each other so much. And I know that no matter what happens, we've all got one another's backs. That's what's important"

Castiel gives him a small smile, his expression somehow still serious and his eyes blazing as he nods. It's a look Sam's seen on his face a thousand times, one that conveys all the love and hope and faith he's placed in Sam and his brother. It's a precious gift, one Sam tries not to take for granted.

"Thanks, Cas. I mean it. For everything." He places a friendly hand on Castiel's shoulder, the gesture familiar but strange for the lack of his usual clothing. "But, uhh, you should probably get dressed and sneak out of my room before Dean gets back from the store."

"Ahh, yes. I take it we're not informing him of your brush with death?"

"God, no," Sam says with a laugh. "And if it does come up we're definitely not saying it like that. But… I don't think it's any of his business, do you?"

"Dean wouldn't see it that way," Castiel says, sounding amused. "But no, this was not about him. We took care of it."

"Yes, we did. Now if only we can take care of Lucifer's kid so effectively."

Castiel looks alarmed. "I do not think this method will be effective in—"

"Figure of speech, Cas."

"Yes, right, of course. Actually, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go see if Dean is back. I have something I wanted to discuss with him."

Sam's used to Castiel's abrupt ability to change topics on a whim so he shrugs and lets him get to it, watching from the bed as Castiel puts his clothes back on with the same precision that he got undressed. Sam wonders how long it'll take before he's able to look at Castiel and not remember that he knows what Castiel looks like naked, knows how he feels pressed so intimately against him.

Castiel pauses in the doorway and looks at the bed. "Have a good night, Sam."

Sam smiles back, feeling strangely at ease. "Yeah, Cas. You, too."