What You Deserve

Chapter One

Well then, let's see how we got here, shall we.

Hope you enjoy it, I'd love to hear your thoughts! <3

~oOo~oOo~oOo~

Three hours earlier, Dean's evening had been perfectly ordinary.

No bars, no walls, no furious angels, certainly no horny douchebags.

Okay, maybe one horny douchebag. But that had been Dean himself, so that was fine.

It wasn't his fault, okay? Angels of the fucking Lord had absolutely no business running around being this frickin gorgeous, with their deep voices and messed up sex-hair and stupidly attractive trenchcoats (and who knew what bodies lay underneath that coat, fuck- ) and otherworldly blue eyes and beautiful warm soft kind smiles and beautiful warm soft kind hearts and their Hello, Dean, what would you like to do this evening?

You, Dean had thought, mentally slapping himself.

Yeah, so, it had been one of those evenings. When it was just too much, that feeling inside him, that nagging, longing, craving of something (someone) he didn't dare put a name to. It had been there for a very long time now, only getting stronger over the years the more Dean tried to push it down. And try to push it down, he did.

He told himself it was nothing. He told himself it would go away. He told himself it didn't mean anything. He told himself it was just an objective appreciation for what everybody in their right mind must consider aesthetically pleasing, nothing more, nothing deeper, certainly nothing he needed to worry about.

Mhm. Denial wasn't just a river in Egypt.

He still hadn't come to terms with it. Ha! That would be far too easy for one Dean Winchester. But maybe he'd kind of accepted that it was there. In his defence, it was quite hard to completely deny something that was staring you in the face every damn day. How could you argue away that no matter how much (decidedly not gay) porn you watched, the pictures in front of your inner eye insistently transformed into long, slender fingers, deep blue eyes and a familiar voice, whispering words of passion, safety and lov- ok, stop.

It didn't matter. So Dean was attracted to his best friend. His male best friend. Angelic best friend in a male vessel. Male body. Whatever.

The keyword here was best friend. Oh right, and angelic on top of that.

Dean couldn't be thirsting after his best friend who just so happened to be an angel. Wouldn't that be just great. Even ignoring the fact that he'd have to add gay panic to the pile of issues he was carrying around like a favourite crappy handbag, also ignoring that he'd definitely go to Hell (again) for corrupting an angel - he was almost 100% sure said angel had no interest in that specific sort of corruption anyway.

Cas had never really shown interest in anyone, as far as Dean knew. At first, Dean had supposed it was just an angel thing - a sort of plus wings, minus libido equation. Then he'd met Gabriel and that theory had crumbled to dust. So it was probably just a Cas thing.

Shame. Or maybe luck. Just imagine if Dean would have to watch his angel jump into bed with everyone who wasn't Dean. He wouldn't be able to stand it.

But that tactic was still a reliable option for Dean himself. Especially on days like this, when the pull towards Cas felt like it would rip his heart out of his chest if he didn't give in and follow.

Dean needed distraction. And he knew just where to find it.

~oOo~

Cas didn't like bars. He didn't like going to bars. But Dean had wanted to go, and Dean had wanted Cas to go with him. So Cas went.