Destiel Oneshots

15 - Dude, Goths Are So Gay

A.N. Hopefully this is fun or something and don't you think they'd look great as goths? The goth part comes later btw so if you're wondering why there's no black lipstick in the first 1000 or so words, it's because it comes later. So yeah. This one might be kinda long but hopefully it's cute. It's also slightly smuttier than than what I usually write so enjoy :)

Castiel's soft warm hands trailed over Dean's chest, causing the hunter's heart to flutter like there were a million butterflies trapped within the confines of his rib cage. He moaned as the angel's chapped lips scraped over his neck before passionately kissing him. God, he'd wanted this for so long. He felt Cas' hands move further down; across his stomach and then his hips and even further.

"Dean,"

Confusion contorted Dean's features. That wasn't Castiel's voice. No, he knew his angel's voice - it was deep and slightly rough but at the same time so soft and-

"Dean!"

He started to feel hands on his shoulders, shaking him. Shaking him awake. Bright light filtered in through his eyelashes and he instantly screwed his eyes shut again.

"Come on, Dean! Wake up! I've found a job for us."

Groaning, Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up, fully awake. His body suddenly felt cold and empty without Castiel touching him, although he realised half a second later that Cas had never actually been touching him. It was all a dream. Disappointment flooded through him but he shoved it away into the depths of his mind and focused on reality.

"Yeah, 'm awake now, Sammy," Dean mumbled, notifying his brother that he was focused on what he had to say about this job.

"So get this," Sam began, "a 17 year old girl dies from ingesting tons of small razor blades in her Monster Assault energy drink. The next week, a 52 year old guy is playing tennis, the ball hits him in the head and kills him."

"A tennis ball?" Dean questioned, confused, "How..."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Three other strange deaths in the next three weeks. I'm thinking maybe a witch. Hex bags could do something like that - fill an energy drink can with razor blades or suddenly give a tennis ball the ability to waste a guy."

"God, I hate witches," Dean sighed before standing up, "Let's get going, then."

Hastily, they grabbed the belongings they needed and hurried to the Impala. Dean always kept a bag packed ready for when he had to just take off for a job but Sam took a while longer, making sure he had everything he needed for at least a week in a motel.

When they were finally on the road, Dean's mind wandered back to his dream. He knew it was wrong to think of his best friend like that. And not just like that either. Hell, he wanted his Angel in every way, not just in the sexual way his dream had been. He wanted to wake up and find the dark haired Angel sleeping beside him, he wanted to cuddle up with him after a tiring hunt and have Cas' perfect yet rare smile directed at him. He knew that was just wishful thinking though. But as long as nobody else knew his thoughts about Castiel they could do no harm, could they? If the Angel never knew then things could stay the same between them. The last thing Dean wanted was for him to run off or hate him if he knew the kind of thoughts he had about him. After all, it was better to suffer unrequited love than not even have platonic love, wasn't it?

~ ~ ~ ~

Engine cutting out with a growl, the 67 Chevy Impala parked outside a small motel and the brothers hauled themselves out into the night air. Sam strode inside to book their room whilst Dean began to grab things they might need from the trunk. He filled his duffel bag with the usual necessities - salt, guns - shivering from the freezing temperatures.