LyonessofAvalon
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“Should practically be waking up with your dick already in me,” Dean adds. It’s a joke, Castiel assumes, an off-hand, off-color comment, but then he continues, with sort of a dreamy sigh. “Mmm. That’d be hot, though.”
Castiel is suddenly reevaluating everything Dean was just rambling about. “I—” he attempts, fingers abruptly pausing as they trace patterns on the crown of Dean’s head. “Really?”
“Sure. ’S a thing people do. Like if I woke you up by blowing you. What’s the difference?”
It seems like a tremendous difference, actually. One Castiel is horribly intrigued by.
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“Look,” Dean grits, pinching at the bridge of his nose, “You’ve got a body. Your body.” (Castiel, not long ago: “Jimmy…his soul was not returned to me.”) “You’re gonna damn well learn how to use it.” The hunter reaches under the seat to jerk at the lever, sliding back the whole of the front bench and badly startling Castiel with the unexpected jolt of movement. “And, hate to break it to you, but this town’s really not that big. You just got yourself kicked out of the only joint that’s got the professionals at work.”
Dean twists to lean against the car door, pulling up a leg to lay across the seat. The moment stretches, silent and tense.
“I ain’t gonna fuck you,” he says, voice gruff, “but I’ll talk you through it.”
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Castiel wipes Lisa's memory. He looks closely. He wants.
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Humans kiss each other. Angels kill each other. Castiel distracts himself from the war he's losing.
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A collection of script excerpts for a version of Season Six that goes a bit differently. Cas and Dean conspire. Lisa is oblivious, and they keep her that way.
Dr. Freud always said nightmares were based on wishes, too.