Broken wings || Destiel

Chapter 1

Dean opened his eyes and lazily got out of the bed. As he looked around the room, he noticed a dark figure standing in the corner. He quickly grabbed his gun. "Dean! It's just me for dad's sake!" Cas said in a shushed voice. 

"Cas?!" He turned the light on and saw the angel standing there in his trenchcoat, hiding his eyes from the light, his expression blank. Dean put the gun back down and took a deep breath, shaking his head. "See? This is why people usually call before they appear in your room, Cas." Dean said, sighing as he sat back on the bed, throwing the blanket over himself to block away the chilly air that was in the room. He had goosebumps and was almost shivering, sitting on the edge of his bed in nothing but his boxers, rubbing his eyes, when he heard a loud thump followed by a giggle.

"What the... Cas?" Sam sat up on his bed and looked around, only to see the angel laying on the floor right next to the couch.

"Cas, what the hell? What happened?" Dean got up and walked over to where the angel was still giggling on the floor, hands clutching the pillow that belonged on the couch.
"Dean," Cas breathed out between the quiet giggles, "it attacked me, look," he said before covering his face with both of his hands and laughing out loud.
"Okay, ....okay," Dean was watching with an amused expression as the angel laughed even harder, clutching his stomach.
"Right, let's get you to bed, yeah?" he said, mostly to himself, and tried to step closer. ¨The room was still dark, and he didn't check the floor where he was stepping, which led to him landing right on top of the angel, with one foot still tangled in the straps of Sam's bag. The action only made Cas laugh harder, before he looked up and locked his deep blue eyes with a pair of sparkly green orbs only a few inches away from him. Dean felt like the air was being sucked right out of his lungs, and with each passing moment he felt a force stronger than him pulling him closer and closer until he could feel the other man's hot breath against his lips, the strong smell of vodka and something else, something sweet, filling the air between them. He tried fighting the force that was puling him in like a magnet, and cleared his throat,  "Well, this is awkwa-"

Next thing he knew, there was a pair of lips covering his own, softness and warmth overwhelming him, and he knew there was something wrong about what he was doing, but his mind was a blur of smells and touches, putting a quick end to all his attempts to think about anything else than the way he felt right in that very moment. His hands got lost in Cas' raven hair, trying to push him away but still pulling him closer, and he could feel the other man's hands wandering as well, feeling up every inch of his burning skin. And he tried to think about all the reasons why this was wrong, he really did, but his thoughts were like sheep running in different directions, as if each touch of the slender fingers on his skin was the wolf that was chasing them further away.

And then suddenly everything became painfully clear when a voice cut through his mind, and he pulled away as quickly as he could, watching his brother stare at them with a shocked expression.

"This is not how it looks, I- we- we weren't-"

"Dean," Sam was grinning wide and rolled his eyes as he reached over for his jacket that was hanging off of the armrest of the couch and put it on.

"What are you-"

" 'm just gonna head out for a bit, yeah? You two have...stuff to do...I guess," Sam said, covering his mouth trying not to laugh.

"No, you don't have to- we're not- we-"

"Just not on the couch, alright?" Sam winked at the two of them and headed out of the door, yelling a "get some!" obnoxiously loud before slamming it shut and finally letting out the laugh he was holding in.

Dean stared at the door for a few more seconds, before realizing he was still laying on top of Cas, and that his boxers felt a little too tight, and that Cas probably noticed that as well, judging by the smirk on his lips. In his head, he was struggling with himself, one part of him wanting to give in and kiss the life out of the man under him, the other part wanting to run away and hide somewhere for, like, a million years at least.

Finally he took a deep breath and scrambled to his feet, closing his eyes for a few moments just to let his thoughts settle a bit, when he felt hot breath ghosting over the skin on his neck, followed by a pair of hands gripping his hips tighlty from behind. "Cas, stop...," he whispered, and had to bite his lip to stop a whimper from escaping his lips when he felt a single finger tracing the outline of the bulge in his boxers. He needed to clear his head, needed to think for a minute, actually for quite a few minutes, because he just got hard from making out with a man, and on top of that the man he was making out with wasn't just someone, it was an angel, for God's sake, and yeah, he definitely needed to think.

"Cas. Cas, man, stop," he spoke up, and his voice sounded a lot more sure than he felt inside, thank God. He felt the hand that was roaming across his stomach stop abruptly, and the breathing he felt on his neck retreated. The warmth against his back started disappearing, and before he could turn around, there was a light breeze in the room, and he knew there was no point in looking back anymore, because the man standing there only a few seconds ago was long gone.

"That's what you get for messing around with angels," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head.

Later that night, after sitting on the porch for almost two hours, just thinking and reevaluating his choices, he gave up struggling for the night, and pulled out a bottle of vodka from his bag, taking a long swig, and then another one, and another, and another, until his mind went blank and his feelings were numb.