Supernatural One-Shots

A Distraction

A/N - set sometime in Season 5

Dean blinked his eyes open to find himself in Bobby's darkened living room. He was reclined in one of the armchairs in an awkward position, and when he tried to straighten, he felt distinct cricks in his joints. Groaning, he sat himself up and saw Cas sitting on the couch, eyebrows furrowed, studying a leather-bound book that looked like it belonged in the Middle Ages.

"Hello Dean," Cas murmured, not taking his eyes off the book.

"Cas?" Dean asked wearily, rubbing his eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"You fell asleep around midnight. It's 4:30 in the morning now."

"You should've woken me," Dean scolded. He stifled a yawn that immediately rose after his words.

Cas finally looked up at him, a slight glint of frustration in his cobalt blue eyes. "You have to take care of yourself, Dean. You'll be useless in this fight against Lucifer if you're dead on your feet. And.. when you're asleep, some of that hardness leaves your face. You look peaceful. Younger and carefree, like you used to. It's very hard to convince myself to pull you out of that state."

Cas's response had been more intense than Dean had been expecting, and he was silent for a second as he processed the information.

"Wait, like I used to?" Dean prompted.

"Before you went to Hell," Cas explained, sighing. "I've watched over you since you were a child, Dean. You always did have a hard life, after your mother died and you had to step in as Sam's father figure, as well as being his older brother. But you used to have a certain cheerfulness about you. A mentality that was seemingly invincible to all that was being thrown at you. In sleep, you return - to some extent - to that state."

Cas looked back down at the book.

"So what are you reading?" Dean inquired casually, changing the subject. Pushing hard topics aside, as usual.

"I'm researching possible methods of destroying Lucifer," Cas answered nonchalantly. "Bobby and Sam went to bed a while ago as well."

"Oh, so just your average bedtime reading," Dean muttered. He stood up and streched, stimulating more pops from his stiff joints. "How's it going?"

Cas grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table beside the couch and took a hearty swig.

"That well, huh?" Dean chuckled. He surveyed Cas for a second, before slowly sauntering over to the angel.

"You know what you could use?" Dean drawled, sitting down next to the angel and slowly pulling the book from his hands.

"What?" Cas asked. That adorable confused crinkle between his eyes was back.

"A distraction," Dean breathed, leaning forward to brush his lips against Cas's neck. He smelled of air and cool water, mingled with old parchment from the books and the dust from Bobby's living room.

Cas breathed in sharply. "Dean-"

"Mmm?" Dean responded, his voice muffled by Cas's skin. He opened his mouth a little to graze his teeth over it.

"I think, uh, we're too, um, busy to-" Cas faltered.

"Yes?" Dean prompted, trailing kisses along Cas's jawline. Cas began to say something again, before Dean reached his mouth. Dean kissed him, and tugged on Cas's lower lip with his teeth.

"-wouldn't be wise," Cas finished lamely against Dean's mouth.

"No, I don't suppose it would be," Dean murmured, filling Cas's mouth with his delicious scent. His hands crept down Cas's chest, unbuttoning the white dress shirt slowly. He pulled away slightly to consider Cas with a wicked glint in his eyes.

That look was all it took.

Suddenly Dean was on his back on the couch and Cas was parting Dean's lips with his own, biting the skin harder than Dean had been biting Cas's. Dean kissed back with fierce passion, reaching under Cas's trenchcoat to pull it off and toss it to the ground. Cas was fumbling for Dean's belt buckle while Dean unbuttoned his plaid shirt with haste. Cas pushed it off his shoulders, and sighed with frustration with what he found underneath.

"Why do you insist on wearing so many layers?" he demanded softly, poking at the grey undershirt.

"Hypocrite," Dean grumbled.

With that, Dean pulled Cas's tie to bring their lips together again and unbalanced him. Cas began to sway, and Dean realised too late that they were too tangled together to prevent rolling off the couch and tumbling to the ground. Dean landed on Cas with a muffled groan. They laughed for a moment before recommencing their embrace.

Their movements slowed as they deepened the kiss, exploring each other's mouths with their tongues. Cas pulled Dean's shirt over his head and ran his hand over his lean chest and up to his neck. Dean broke away from Cas's mouth, provoking Cas to make a noise of protest, before he started trailing kisses down Cas's chest with each unbutton of his shirt. Cas was beginning to reach for Dean's waistband when he became conscious of another person's energy in the room.

"What do you two idjits think you're doing in my living room?"

Cas turned his head to see Bobby standing in the doorway. Flustered, he tried to get up, but Dean kept him pinned to the ground, head bowed on Cas's chest.

"Bobby, you know how grateful I am for all that you do for us," Dean sighed into Cas's skin. "But if you don't go upstairs right now, I will kill you dead and make it look like an accident."

"Don't you be threatening me, boy, just because you have an angel boy-toy now," Bobby grunted. "I'll go upstairs, but only because I'm sick of being caught in the middle of all the eye-molesting that goes on when you two don't resolve the tension."

He began heading back upstairs, but turned to assert something over his shoulder.

"Oh, and don't make such a racket down here. Man needs his sleep."