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“Goddammit, Cas!” Dean yelled, pushing the angel off of him.
“What was I supposed to do, Dean? Let the curse hit you?” Castiel reasoned angrily, standing and holding out a hand to help Dean up.
“You dumbass, you’re practically human! You think that shit isn’t gonna fuck you up, too?” Dean grabbed Castiel’s forearm and let his friend help him up. He was still yelling when he was standing full height, staring into Castiel’s eyes. “And another thing--”
“Guys!” Sam shouted, obviously irritated. “The witch? The spell?”
All Dean knew was that he was pissed off...and sore. Castiel was built like a brick shithouse, and falling on top of Dean (while slightly pleasurable) did not feel good, especially when they landed on the coffee table.
“Keep your shorts on, Sam. Did you catch any of what she was sayin’?” Dean remained where he was, standing close to Castiel as he picked glass from his palm.
Castiel huffed a sigh and grabbed Dean’s hand. (Sam sighed, too, and rolled his eyes, and said, “Fuck this”, going in search of the witch’s altar and spellbook.)
“Let me.”
“It’s fine.”
“You’re not fine, Dean, you have glass shards in your hand--”
“Which I’m taking care of!”
“And you’re bleeding. Let. Me. Do. It.” Something in Castiel’s voice had Dean shutting up and swallowing hard. He nodded once. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Dean rasped out. Had it always been so hot in the small house? Was the lighting different, or were Castiel’s eyes...darker?
“Okay, I found the spellbook, but I think we’re gonna need Rowena,” Sam announced, resolutely ignoring his brother and Castiel doing their weird whatever. The other men continued staring at each other. Sam rolled his eyes. “Hello? Spellbook? Can we go now?” he asked, exasperated.
“Of course, Sam,” Castiel replied. He held his free hand over Dean’s injured one, and a weak blue glow emanated from his palm.
Dean scoffed. “I told you, you were low on juice,” he muttered. The light grew stronger, however, and Dean’s hand began to heal; glass and blood disappeared along with the scratches and gouges. Castiel continued staring at Dean, and the man could feel it. He finally met the angel’s gaze, cleared his throat, and mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.”
Sam sighed. “Can we go now?” He was already trying to figure out what language the witch spoke in, what the spell could possibly mean, and whether Dean and Castiel heard words they should recognize in English...
“Yes, Samantha,” Dean groused, pulling his hand from Castiel’s and taking a big step back. “You got what you need?”
“Yeah, since you two are useless.”
“We are not! Who packed the fucking witch-killing bullets, huh?”
Castiel sighed. “I thought we were leaving.”
Dean turned to look at his friend. “Dude. What crawled up your ass in the last hour?” Seriously, he could have sworn Castiel was not this much of an asshole on their way to confront the witch.
Castiel frowned and looked to be thinking hard, as if trying to remember (Dean did not nearly smile). “Nothing.”
Rolling his eyes, Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Yeah, alright, Mr. Literal, let’s go.”
“Finally,” Sam sighed. He immediately turned around, left, and quickly walked to the Impala. “Jesus Christ.” He was already pulling out his flashlight to look through the spellbook by the time Dean and Castiel arrived. Sam rolled his eyes, hearing them bicker about the curse and whether Castiel’s ‘sudden bitchiness’ could be blamed on it. “This’ll be fun.”
Castiel reached the car first and opened the back driver’s side door, got in, and slammed it closed.
“Watch it, Sunshine,” Dean threatened as he got into the car, too. Just because Castiel was in a mood all of a sudden didn’t mean that he had to go abuse Baby. As he fumed, he also watched Sam flip through the spellbook out of the corner of his eye. At least the moose was okay.
After an hour or so, Dean began to sweat. It was sweltering in the car, even though it was almost three in the morning and quite cool outside.
“Dean?” Sam asked, sounding cautious. He shone the flashlight on his brother.
“Jesus, dude! I’m tryin’ to drive here.” Dean pushed a hand at Sam’s flashlight.
“You’re very sweaty,” Castiel pointed out.
Dean rolled his eyes (making his head hurt for some reason) and looked at his angel through the rearview mirror. “Yeah, well, you don’t look so cool yourself.” It was true: Castiel looked a little rough and sweaty himself. His collar was open under his loosened tie, betraying his ‘I don’t sweat under any circumstances’ bullshit. (Dean did not try to see a hint of collarbone underneath the shirt collar.)
Castiel frowned and reached up to his brow, wiping the tips of his fingers across his forehead. Dean would have laughed at his expression, but he was too busy trying to watch Castiel while also trying to shrug out of his flannel.
“What the hell, Dean? You’re gonna crash,” Sam exclaimed, reaching over to grab the steering wheel and bringing them back into their lane.
With the flannel shirt off and his eyes on the road, Dean huffed and looked over at Sam. “I’m good.”
“Open a window. You look like you’re melting.” Sam sat back in his seat and returned to his spellbook.
“Meh, meh, meh,” Dean mocked (as he rolled down his window). He sighed as the cool night air hit his heated skin. He heard another sigh behind him. “Told you so,” he muttered, feeling smug.
“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” Castiel griped.
Dean’s eyes widened marginally and darted up to the rearview mirror. “You readin’ minds again?”
“Of course not. Your particular scent is...”
Dean panicked. He smelled? He tried to surreptitiously sniff his left armpit. Okay, yeah, he was a little rank, but cut him some slack! He just fought a freakin’ witch! “My particular scent is what exactly?” For some reason, this struck a hard chord with Dean. Did Castiel not like how he smelled? Why the fuck did he even care?
“Strong. It’s from the open windows.”
“Then. Shut. It,” Dean gritted out. He heard Castiel scoff and looked into the rearview mirror. The angel had his arms crossed and a scowl on his face...but he was still leaning toward the open window.
It took almost an hour to get back to their motel (they didn’t count on having to trek through the forest to reach the witch’s house), and when they arrived, Dean practically leapt from the car.
“Dude, are you okay?” Sam asked for the thousandth time.
Dean took stock of himself. He was sweating through his t-shirt, an uncomfortable line of it down the center of his back. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin. He really wanted to bury his face in Castiel’s neck. What the fuck?
“No, Sam, I’m not. I think that damn curse went through Cas and hit me.”
“That’s not possible.”
Dean whirled around to look at Castiel. The angel looked like he was sweating, but why wasn’t he as affected as Dean? “Oh? Then why aren’t you sweating like a pig, huh?” The angel was sweating marginally, though. He stepped closer. “Why don’t you smell...” Rain on a hot summer day...that’s what Castiel smelled like.
“Guys, how about we take this inside, alright? It’s almost four in the morning,” Sam pointed out in a quiet voice in deference to the others’ raised voices.
“Yeah, alright,” Dean agreed. Castiel, not taking his eyes from Dean, nodded.
The three made it inside their room, and Dean cranked up the A/C. All three sighed, albeit for different reasons. Sam sighed because he knew he was going to freeze trying to sleep that night. Dean, because he finally felt some relief. And, of course, Castiel was unreadable (but Dean could feel the angel’s gaze on the back of his neck).
“Dean, I do not think it’s possible for the curse to...pass through me and into you.” Did Castiel sound weird?
Dean turned around. The angel’s hair was fucked, he’d lost his tie somewhere, his collar was unbuttoned, and his jacket and coat were tossed on the bed. As the man cataloged everything...different about Castiel, Sam watched from a safe distance. If he was right, he’d need a different place to stay for the night, STAT.
“Staring’s creepy, Cas.”
His angel stalked forward, stopping just short of stepping on Dean’s toes, and stared intently into Dean’s shocked eyes.
“Hey, guys? I think I know what this is,” Sam offered. He was getting concerned about his brother and the angel.
“What, Sam?” Dean snapped. The air around the other two crackled.
“Um...Alpha and Omega.”
Castiel turned quickly to face Sam, and Dean felt the loss deeply (and made a noise that could only be described as a whimper). His angel looked back over his shoulder at Dean and looked pained. Dean braced for the worst.
“What about...Alpha and Omega, Sam?” Castiel asked, voice sounding lower even than before.
Dean looked over at his brother, who swallowed hard. “Um, it’s not what you think, Cas; it’s not...biblical.”
The angel in front of Dean tilted his head to the side, offering that glimpse of collarbone that Dean had hoped for. His mouth began to water and... His eyes widened. What the fuck was wrong with his ass? Castiel met his eyes once again, and his nostrils flared.
“Continue, Sam,” Castiel directed, gazing intently at Dean.
“Right. Uh, so, it’s a spell about...biology, and--”
“Jesus Christ, Sam, get to the fucking point!” Dean yelled at his brother, but his eyes were all for Castiel. He’d known the angel had beautiful blue eyes before, but just then they...glowed. He swallowed hard. “Sam, I swear...”
“The spell changes your biology to what’s known as Alpha or Omega. I think you both got hit with the curse, but because Cas is an angel--”
“It’s not affecting me?” said angel asked, taking another step toward Dean. “Do you think this isn’t affecting me, Dean?”
Dean swallowed hard. Why was his mouth so dry when the rest of him seemed to be dripping? He shook his head. No, whatever the curse was, it was definitely affecting Castiel.
“What else, Sam?” Dean said, barely above a whisper.
“Um, I think you two might have been turned into...them.”
Dean began to feel dizzy. What was happening to him? He thought back over the case that brought them to the witch in the first place. Separate people with no connections, spontaneously overheating—their organs practically cooked from the inside. They’d noticed a mysterious liquid at a couple of the crime scenes, and Dean suddenly thought he knew the answer.
Without looking away from his angel, he said, “So, Cas is an Alpha, and I’m an Omega. Where does that leave us? Cooked like the others?”
“No, no, this looks like some kind of weird love spell. There’s mention of mating and knotting and...” Sam suddenly recoiled. “There’s some...anatomically interesting drawings here.”
Dean wanted to go take the book and burn it; that was only his second instinct, though. His first was to get as close to Castiel as possible. The angel must’ve sensed Dean’s longing because he moved closer still, nearly backing Dean against the wall.
“What else does it say, Sam?” Castiel practically growled.
“Uh, something about a mating bite. Listen, I’m gonna...go,” Sam explained, gathering his laptop, notes, duffel, and the spellbook. He wanted to finish researching to find a cure, but not while his brother and their best friend were looking at each other like that.
“I think that’s wise.” Castiel took a step closer as Dean took one back...and hit his sweaty back against the fake wood-paneled wall.
Somewhere, way back in the distant memory of something other than the smell of Castiel, Dean registered that his brother left. He was about to tell Castiel they needed to lock the door when his angel snapped, and the lock clicked into place.
“Cas...what’s--”
“You’re in heat, and I’m in rut. We’re to mate if we want this to go away.”
“How do you know all that?” Dean asked, suddenly in awe of Castiel. And what if he didn’t want it to go away? This was the most turned on Dean had ever been in his life; his cock throbbed in the confines of his jeans. And it was all because of a stupid smell!
Well, it wasn’t really, though, was it? Dean had always been attracted to Castiel, but was too chickenshit to ever do anything about it. The angel—Dean's angel—had always been something special. (And yes, the thing part of that was a factor.)
“I may have scanned Sam’s mind for a moment as he was leaving.” The angel turned bashful. “I wanted to make sure my assumptions were correct. This is very similar to how angels...mate.”
Dean nodded as if he understood anything Castiel was saying. He was too busy staring at his angel’s lips to pay attention to words. “So...to make the curse go away...?” He raised a hand to run a button through his fingers.
“We have to mate.”
“And to do that...?” Dean raised his other hand and began to slowly unbutton the rest of Castiel’s shirt.
“I would have to...claim you. You’d be mine and no one else’s.” Castiel leaned forward, into Dean’s neck. He ran his nose teasingly across the now-sensitive flesh.
Dean felt an arousal build up, and he thought he’d come just from the barest touch. Instead, he began to feel...wet. It was both arousing (he just felt more sensitive) and disconcerting (seriously, what?).
“Cas...?” Dean couldn’t finish his question. He was too busy running his fingers over Castiel’s abdomen. The angel shrugged out of the shirt and let it fall to the floor. Castiel reached up with one hand and fingered the hem of Dean’s t-shirt.
“This should come off.”
Dean felt Castiel’s breath across his neck, and it felt more erotic than Rhonda Hurley’s panties. Obediently, he raised his arms over his head, and Castiel lifted his shirt up and over, also dropping it to the floor. The angel stepped closer, and Dean could feel his body heat. He could smell ozone and rain and earth and— Castiel's lips were on his.
A gentle press of lips had never felt so electrified. “Cas...” Dean said breathily, eyes fluttering closed. His lips caught on his angel’s. Then everything was gone. He panicked and opened his eyes wide. He was there; Castiel was there, a few inches away.
“I wasn’t going to leave, Dean. I just... I need to know what you want.”
The man could tell it cost Castiel a lot to have taken that literal and metaphorical step back. What did he want? “What do you mean you’d ‘claim me’?” Dean asked quietly.
Castiel raised his hand and brushed his fingertips over the sensitive skin of his neck down to where it met his shoulder. “I’d bite you...here. It would be a permanent mark.” Dark blue eyes met dark green. “It would let everyone—every angel and every demon—know that you are mine, Dean Winchester.”
“Oh.” It was all Dean could get out! He was speechless. Hell, he already had a handprint branded on his shoulder. What was one more angel scar?
Castiel removed his hand. “Which is why I need to--”
Dean didn’t let his angel finish. He leaned in and kissed Castiel hard, hands going to his hips to hold him still. He could feel the heat coming from Castiel’s body, and Dean wanted it on his. He wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist and pulled him. Their erections rubbed together, and Dean moaned.
“Yes, fuck. Yes, Cas,” the man said between heated kisses. “Been yours.”
Castiel moaned, reached down to hook his hands under Dean’s thighs, and lifted. Dean gasped at the show of strength (though he wasn’t sure why he was surprised) and wrapped his legs around Castiel’s waist. The angel turned them around quickly, and soon, Dean was dropped onto the bed, soon covered by Castiel’s equally warm (and sweaty) body. His hands went to his angel’s hair, and he tugged on the strands to pull Castiel away for just a moment.
“What about you? Do you--”
Castiel leaned down and bit Dean’s earlobe before growling, “Don’t ask stupid questions.” He pulled back far enough to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’ve loved you in some form or fashion from the beginning, Dean. Yes, I want this.”
Dean wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Dean Winchester did not cry during sex. His allergies were hitting early, that was all. “The beginning?”
“Yes,” Castiel replied without the slightest hesitation. “May I remove the rest of our clothing now?”
Dean rolled his hips and nipped at Castiel’s bottom lip. Oh, this was about to be good. He nodded, and rather than back away and begin unbuckling Dean’s belt, Castiel snapped his fingers, leaving them both naked. Dean gasped and arched his back, pressing every inch of himself against Castiel. He moaned into his angel’s mouth.
As Dean felt Castiel reach between them and lower his hand, he suddenly pushed him away. “Wait.” He was leaking something from his ass, and that could not be good.
Instead of staying back, however, Castiel continued to lower his hand while smirking. Dean thought his smell had changed slightly... Something more electric lit up the room around them.
“This is a lubricant, Dean. Much like my wing oil, it’s used--”
“I can guess what it’s used for, Cas.” Okay, that made him feel a little bit less weird and gross. When Castiel easily sank two fingers into Dean’s hole, the man nearly keened.
Castiel leaned down and took one of Dean’s nipples into his mouth before pulling back and allowing his breath and lips to graze the dampened skin. “It also helps loosen certain...muscles.”
Okay, well, if Dean thought he was turned on before, he wasn’t sure what he was after hearing that. He rolled his hips again and tested the feel of Castiel’s fingers inside him. Oh, they felt good. Dean couldn’t wait for more.
“Ah, Cas!” The angel found the man’s prostate and began rubbing and tapping in turn, driving Dean crazy. “Cas! Cas, please.” He was going to come soon; he knew it. Castiel’s other hand came up and wrapped tightly and hotly around Dean’s cock. The sensation of an impending orgasm remained, but he was no longer in danger of coming so soon. “Cheater. I was--” Castiel cut him off with a kiss.
“I know.” Castiel plundered Dean’s mouth for a few moments before removing his fingers. Dean whined (though he would never admit it outside of their bedroom) at the loss. Castiel grinned. “Patience, Dean.”
“Oh, fuck you and your patience. Do you know how long— Ah!” Dean was cut off as Castiel shifted and smoothly slid his cock inside Dean’s hole, stretching him in all the right ways.
“Do I know how long what, Dean?” Castiel pulled out and pushed back inside the man of his heart, his Righteous Man. “How long I’ve felt you yearning for me?” He sped up his thrusts only slightly, but Dean let out a low moan just the same. Dean nodded. Castiel leaned down and kissed Dean hard. “Years.”
The angel’s cock pressing up against his prostate with him kissing the daylights out of Dean and stroking his own cock so fucking slowly. Dean wanted more, needed more. “Yes,” he moaned as Castiel shifted. He wrapped his leg higher on his angel’s waist, changing the angle at which his prostate was hit. It took three more thrusts for Dean to spill across his stomach.
Coming back to himself after a few completely blissed-out moments, Dean realized a few things at once. First, Castiel was still going strong. Second, something hard was pressing against his hole, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. And finally, Dean’s angel was nibbling and sucking his neck with a fervor that told him he’d have a wild bruise there later.
The hard thing began pressing more insistently against Dean’s hole. “Relax, beloved,” Castiel whispered as he kissed a tender spot behind Dean’s ear. “That is my knot. It will tie us together. I’ll bite you soon, and we’ll be bound.”
Dean threaded his fingers through Castiel’s hair and nodded. “Yeah, heh, profoundly.”
Castiel sighed, then chuckled. Then he picked up the pace and began pounding into Dean, pushing deeply inside him. Dean could feel what Castiel called his knot push past the first ring of muscle, and it pressed directly against his prostate. The two came at the same time, calling each other’s names.
“Dean,” Castiel moaned.
“Mate me, Cas.” It was hardly a second later that Dean felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He yelped (in a manly fashion) and then moaned as a whole new sensation of sensuality coursed through his veins. Was it Castiel’s Grace? Was it their new bond? Did Dean really care? No, he did not.
The next feeling was that of Castiel’s tongue on his shoulder, licking at the new bite. “This helps it heal,” Castiel explained before Dean had a chance to ask. The pain eased and a coolness set in.
“Mm.” Dean felt floaty, and it wouldn’t surprise him later that he’d fallen asleep in Castiel’s arms.
When he woke up a few hours later, Dean was on his side and alone. He didn’t feel like he was a million degrees anymore, which was a huge plus. He rolled over, and when the pillow hit his shoulder, he gasped in pain, sitting up quickly.
“Fuck!” His hand went to his shoulder, and he was semi-surprised to feel swollen and tender skin there.
The bathroom door swung open, and Castiel stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping. “Dean? Are you alright?” He approached the bed quickly, eyes never leaving Dean’s. Was that...worry in his eyes?
“I’m good. Just, uh...this,” Dean said, gesturing to his shoulder, which had begun to throb. He cleared his throat. “It kinda hurts.”
Castiel stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes, my apologies. I tried to tend to it earlier, but my Grace...” He glanced down at his hands in his lap.
Dean had to smile just a tad. “I told you so, dumbass.”
Castiel’s head came up quickly, and his eyes bore into Dean’s. “Excuse me, but I did not lose my ‘juice’...” Dean tuned him out and laughed outright instead. “What’s so funny?”
“Why are you so pissy? And I think I know exactly where your ‘juice’ went, pal.” Dean sat up slowly, and his smile faded. “You havin’ second thoughts?”
Castiel raised his hand to cradle Dean’s jaw, angling his head to the side to see the bite on the man’s shoulder. “No.” He leaned forward and kissed Dean’s lips gently. “I also think the curse is lifted.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. How do you feel physically? Is your sense of smell still heightened? Do you feel overly heated?”
Dean took stock of how he felt. His ass was a bit sore, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle; same with his shoulder. He shrugged. “Fine.” He inhaled deeply, and when he couldn’t smell lightning and earth, he became disappointed. “Can’t smell you anymore, though,” Dean pouted.
Castiel smiled at him and leaned in for another kiss. “Neither can I.”
“So, you couldn’t like, smell me before the curse?” Castiel shook his head. “Can I still, uh...”
Castiel’s lips twitched. “The term is ‘slick’ and no. In the future, we’ll have to use a lubric--” Dean cut him off with a hand over his mouth.
“Dude, stop. Just call it lube and be done.” Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dean grinned. “I can live with that.” He removed his hand and looked down at Castiel’s lips, which the angel then licked. Dean didn’t even hesitate; he leaned in and kissed Castiel—just because he could now. He could now, right? His grin faded. “So, what happens now that we’re angel-mated?”
“I believe it would be considered regular mating in the wild. Wolves especially--”
Dean rolled his eyes. Yeah, they’d be fine. “I love you,” he said randomly, eyes widening marginally.
Castiel smiled widely, however, and kissed Dean again. “I love you, too, Dean.”
“So, uh, how long do you think we got ‘til Sammy comes back?” Dean wanted Castiel ‘for real’, not under some love spell. He scooted closer to his angel, not bothering to hide the beginnings of his boner through the sheet.
Castiel leaned forward and kissed Dean’s sore shoulder gently. “Let’s find out, shall we?” he asked in a low voice. He kissed the other side of Dean’s neck, and the man felt tingly all over.
Dean pulled back. “What did you just do?” He felt loose (still) but not enough to go without prep...or lube. But somehow, it felt different.
Castiel unwrapped his towel, showing off an impressive erection, and crawled up the bed until he was positioned over Dean. “I may have used my Grace to...ease things along so that we can be quick.”
“Mm, don’t want quick,” Dean murmured as Castiel nibbled his earlobe. “Text Sam to stay away. Or better yet, he can go home.”
“No. I want to see you come for me again, Dean; right now.” Castiel pulled the sheet away from Dean’s lap. The raw want in his eyes almost scared Dean. But it was Castiel; he’d never harm Dean. The man nodded and succumbed to a deep, probing kiss.
They shifted and moved, and soon, Castiel was poised above Dean, his cock at the man’s entrance. He had just thrust in hard and fast when they heard a knock on the door. Dean tried, but he couldn’t stop the loud moan that erupted from him.
“Never mind!” Sam called from outside. Dean wondered if the man would actually leave them for the bunker (he couldn’t really blame the man if he did).
Dean had to laugh at poor Sam, likely scarred from the night before. He hoped his brother got a room far away from him and Castiel. But then Castiel kissed him hard and pulled out, thrusting back in again, pulling a gasp from Dean. Whatever the Grace did, it worked. Dean felt no pain without the proper prep, and the slide in and out of him was smooth. (He kind of missed the ‘slick’ though...that was a little cool at least.)
Dean threw his head back and moaned, coming hard as Castiel sucked on his new bite. The feeling shot straight to his cock. He didn’t feel the blunt hardness at his hole like he did the night before. Perhaps the curse really was lifted. Castiel continued moving, harder and faster, until he, too, came with a groan and another (gentler) bite on Dean’s shoulder.
“That a kink now?” the man asked, breathless. “Biting that during sex?”
“And before...and after,” Castiel explained, pulling out of Dean slowly. He rolled onto his back beside Dean, and the man followed, pressing up against Castiel’s side, heedless of the mess on his stomach. “Pretty much any time I feel the need to remind you—and myself—that you’re mine.”
“Heh, don’t think I’ll forget, sunshine.” Castiel shifted and turned onto his side as well, facing Dean.
“Good.”
Dean’s phone pinged with an incoming text message. He was about to tell Castiel to leave it on the bedside table when he picked it up anyway and read the sender...Sam, of course. Dean groaned and took the phone.
Sam: While you two were busy, I took care of the witch.
Dean: Curse lifted already Sammy but good job
Sam sent an eyeroll emoji but didn’t add anything else.
“Sam says he ganked the witch, and the curse is done.”
“Mm,” Castiel replied, nuzzling Dean’s nose and pressing teasing kisses to the man’s lips. “Yes, I believe it has.”
Dean laughed. “No shit, Sherlock.”
After several minutes of kisses and stares and smiles, Dean announced it was time for a shower. Castiel joined him.
Several rooms across the motel, Sam typed out a text message to Rowena. He’d needed to reach out to clarify the ingredients they might need if the curse couldn’t be broken with...whatever happened between Dean and Castiel. Turned out, they didn’t need anything but a horny human and his equally horny angel.
Sam: Thanks for the assist
Rowena: I’ll collect tweetie pie
Sam rolled his eyes. He knew she would. His biggest problem, however, was going to be dealing with Dean and Castiel’s new relationship. He was about to be tortured twenty-four/seven with loving looks and more (heated) stares. He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. This would be his biggest challenge yet: surviving the honeymoon phase.
(It lasted a lot longer than Sam expected, culminating with an argument between the man and his angel over a werewolf hunt. He knew when they’d made up, however, and thanked Chuck for noise-canceling headphones.)