Lucifer In Lace

Part 4 Earbuds

Castiel knelt at the foot of the altar, staring up at the newly installed crucifix. Since Father Edlund's death, Castiel had made specific changes to the worship room. The projector was gone, replaced by an imported cross adorned with a marble Christ wearing an exquisite face of suffering. The lectern was sent away, since Castiel never needed a script. All the frumpy little touches Chuck had installed in the room, plastic flowers, fake candles, motivational posters were swept away in favour of clean gleaming surfaces and hard words of scripture.

All the inmates were gone for the day, he had sent them away to think upon their sins. Now Castiel was thinking of his own. Of the heat of Dean's body lain over his back, the wetness of Dean's come dripping down his thighs, the way Dean's kiss felt wet and sharp on the back of his neck. Castiel bowed his head, Dean was a distraction. A terrible confusing obstacle for Castiel to function properly in his role. He had been arrogant to think that he could just walk into Stull Maximum and change the world.

That evening, in the dimly lit loneliness of his barely inhabited apartment, Castiel ate a dinner of beef stew and broccoli. Then he went to his desk, plugged his earbuds in and listened through that day's recordings. Everything was hooked up to a surveillance app on his phone and voice activated. There was only about an hour to listen through, the software automatically trimming out the hours of blankness in between. There was Dean saying hello to the guard who unlocked his cell in the morning. A quick exchange with the same guard as he walked out of his cell. The sound of Dean watching about half an hour of Doctor Sexy on his television set before lunch, laughing and commenting at the melodrama. Then there was the sound of Kevin talking to Dean about going out to the exercise yard later. Castiel sat through the snatches of conversation, telling himself sternly that he wasn't enjoying hearing Dean's voice. The last twenty minutes of the recordings though, had Castiel grabbing his notebook and pen.

At first there was the sound of knocking on the door to Dean's cell and the squeak of the bed frame as Dean presumably got up to open it.

"Hey, you okay?"

Castiel closed his eyes, sifting through the voices of inmates in his head. Sam Wesson.

"Yeah, awesome, Sammy." Dean's reply was intimate, in a tone of voice Castiel had never heard before.

"Don't lie to me, you're hurting," Sam said. There was the sound of footsteps and the squeak of metal again. Castiel imagined Sam sitting down next to Dean. "I know you liked Chuck."

"Whatever," Dean said, the mattress groaned, maybe Dean rolled over. "You shouldn't be here, people'll see you."

"I know but I had to come see you. Lemme, just," Sam said, there was the sound of more movement on the mattress.

"Dude that's fucking gay," Dean said, his voice muffled.

"Nothing wrong with gay." Sam said warmly.

Then silence, Castiel stared down at the time lapse on his phone. Ten whole minutes of silence that was cut out by the software. He would have rather heard ten minutes of intense bed breaking sex than the intimacy and comfort implied by the silence.

The next thing Castiel heard made something twist in his gut. A quiet "I love you Sammy" said in Dean's deep baritone. Castiel ripped the earbuds out of his head and threw them across the room. He stared at the strand of white plastic, lying limp on the ground, frowning. Why was he feeling like this, this cold hot thrill of something through his whole body, this clench in his fists and sinking in his guts. None of those physical sensations were triggered by the environment around him. Castiel felt suddenly wild and reckless like he wanted to tear the world apart, like he wanted to fuck into Dean until Dean stuttered his name over and over again. Like he wanted to stuff his cock down Dean's airways till Dean could breathe nothing but Castiel. Till he filled Dean's lungs and heart the way Dean burnt inside Castiel's chest the moment they laid eyes on each other. Castiel pulled on his hoodie and raced out the door, into the snowy darkness, running as fast as he can.

He couldn't think like this. None of it made sense. It was dangerous and though Castiel was no coward, though he had always thrived on a blade's edge, this was more risk than even he could handle. This was nothing like what Castiel knew.

This love.

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