Dean is drunk again, Bobby is still researching downstairs, Sam is passed out down the hall, and everything sucks because they haven’t found anything substantial about the alphas or purgatory in weeks and Cas has never filled them in on the civil war up in Heaven, so there’s not a whole lot to do but sit around and think about things. And thinking about things makes Dean feel like an asshole because he always thinks about Cas and the way everything is so fucked up and stupid when it shouldn’t be.
So, because he’s drunk and tired of research and he figures why the fuck not, Dean prays.
“Dear Castiel, if you aren’t too busy blowing your buddy Balty—seriously, the dude calls you Cassie, are you fuck buddies or something? Because that’s kind of stupid, if you ask me, but uh, anyway. Yeah. If you’ve got a second, could you please get your feathery backside down here for a bit, that’d be great,” Dean mumbles, and before he even opens his eyes, he hears the soft fluttering of wings and a low sigh.
“I find it inappropriate that you assume I’m having sexual relations with one of my closest brothers.”
Dean opens his eyes and shrugs.
“I dunno. He seems like the kind of prick who wouldn’t be too upset about getting into your pants.”
“Is there a point to this prayer? Or did you just summon me to insult my family.”
Dean lets out a breath and pushes up off the bed, holding out his hands apologetically.
“Sorry, dude, sorry. Um. I called you down because… because…” Dean frowns and tries to think of why he called, and Cas sighs again, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder and leading him back towards the bed.
“You’re drunk. Don’t bother me when you’re intoxicated.”
“I’m not drunk,” Dean flat out lies, but Cas ignores him.
“I wouldn’t have come down here if I’d known, but your drunk prayers are the same as your regular prayers.”
“Are you saying I don’t pray good?” Dean hiccups, falling back onto the bed when Cas pushes him down onto it.
“Yes.” Dean frowns and looks up at Cas expectantly, and after a moment, Cas shrugs. “I would teach you the proper way but I didn’t think you’d be interested.” Cas moves to step away from the bed, give Dean his personal space back, but Dean grabs him by the arm and holds him there.
“I’m interested,” he nods. Cas stares at him warily, not sure if he should believe him, but when all Dean does is look at him quietly, he decides there’s no harm in it. He sits beside Dean on the bed and holds his hands up, palms pressed together. Dean makes a face and asks, “Really? I have to do the hands?”
“Yes, Dean.”
Dean makes a noise and rolls his eyes but obediently lifts his hands from his lap and presses them together. He’s never prayed like this before—usually his prayers involve either heavy sarcasm and annoyance at the ritual, or a desperate plea and eyes on the empty sky above. Cas nods when Dean does it correctly.
“Close your eyes.”
Dean obeys, squeezing his eyelids shut.
“Now think,” Cas says, and the sound of his voice, so close, vibrates through his chest, and for some reason, it’s hotter with his eyes shut. He doesn’t know what Cas wants him to think about, but the only thing bouncing around his head now is Cas and Cas’ voice and Cas’ mouth.
“When you pray, you must address who your prayer is for. Usually, humans pray to our Father, but in your case, you can just call for me.”
“D-Dear, ah, Castiel,” Dean says slowly, and he feels Cas shift suddenly beside him. He’s tempted to open his eyes, but he keeps them shut, waiting to hear Cas’ voice again.
“You must focus on what you want. What you need. You have to make it clear why you need God—why you need me and what you’re praying for.”
Dean shivers slightly at the way Cas says it, and Dean can just see his mouth moving, tongue against his teeth, and Dean wants—needs—it against his own mouth, and he can picture lips sliding together and loud noises as they kiss, greedy and careless.
“Prayers connect… humans with the Host. Um, when pr-praying to a specific angel, it, uh, it’s like a one-way phone call.”
Dean picks up on the obvious and sudden awkwardness in Cas’ tone, but he doesn’t comment. He waits patiently, still thinking about Cas and Cas’ lips and Cas’ lips wrapped around his—
“Dean, please, I can hear you,” Cas whispers, interrupting his thoughts, and Dean’s eyes open. He watches Cas twitch uncomfortably, face reddening. Dean’s drunk mind suddenly has a great idea and he pulls his hands together again, closing his eyes. “Dean? What are you doing?” Cas asks, concerned and wary, but Dean doesn’t answer.
Dear Castiel, he prays silently, and he feels Cas go still beside him, I pray that you will stay with me tonight.
Cas sucks in a breath and Dean grins.
I pray that you will let me kiss you, push you down right here on this bed and—
“Dean, what are you—”
—let me get you naked, let me touch every inch of you, let me fuck your mouth and fuck you open—
“Dean,” Cas pleads, and Dean finally stops, peeking one eye open to see Cas breathing hard, hands digging into the sheets, and his cock straining against the crotch of his slacks. He smiles wide and drops his hands into his lap, licking his lips slow.
“So. What do you think of my praying now?”
“I pray you’ll follow through,” Cas breathes, surging forward and smashing their mouths together, and Dean decides he might not mind praying so much anymore.
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