Title: Halosexual
Author: pagiel
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Castiel exists
Warnings: halo kink
Word Count: 2442
Summary: spnkink prompt: Dean accidentally discovers that not only does Cas have a halo, it's a solid part of him, and he likes having it rubbed, with orgasmic results. Bonus points: Castiel's penis isn't sensitive at all, and it doesn't get hard. Angels orgasm differently.


Sam had found a website that suited him perfectly. It was called FMyLife. It was all about people who got food poisoning on their honeymoon, who found out that their parents were actually cousins, or who were stung by a bee in the nuts. They were Sam's people. But he knew that no one would believe him if he posted about his life.

Take today.

Today, I learned that angels get turned on by having their halos rubbed. Which my brother is doing right now. With a male angel. Right behind me. FML


It started when Cas saved them from a demon-witch tag team, swooping to the rescue upon receiving Dean's text message. "Even Bond villains don't leave Bond with a phone, moron," Dean quipped as the witch melted from her own backfiring spell.

After the altercation, Cas was rumpled (more than usual) from the demon tossing him against a few walls. He raised his hands above his head and tentatively prodded the empty air, pursing his lips in concentration.

The words Cas and weird went together whenever the angel was around, but he'd never done something so random before. Nevertheless, Sam persisted in ignoring him, because the words Cas and Dean's problem also went together very well.

Dean rose to the occasion by asking, "Uh, Cas, what are you doing?"

Cas gulped as if he'd been caught doing something naughty. It was one of the most human things Sam had ever seen him do. "I am adjusting my halo," he muttered. "Sorry."

Dean laughed. "Did you hear that, Sammy? Adjusting his halo. Great progress on the humor front, Cas."

Sam didn't think for one second that Castiel was joking. He sensed himself entering an excited (Dean would say nerdy) state where he wanted to ask Cas about what purpose his halo served and whether it was really a gold ring like in the cartoons. Then he reminded himself that he didn't give a damn about angels anymore (because they didn't give a damn about him, minus one who didn't bear thinking of). Besides, asking Cas questions had the side-effect of making both Sam and the angel more confused than ever.

Cas lowered his hands and fixed Dean with his typical perplexed stare. "I am not joking."

Dean squinted hard as if that would help him to see Cas's newly discovered halo. "Where is it?"

Cas's shoulders hunched, and he looked away bashfully. "It is obscured."

With a slow, lazy grin that Sam had learned meant endless teasing was to come, Dean asked, "Is it gold? Is it shiny? Is it detachable?"

"No!" Castiel protested, glaring as if offended. "It does not detach."

"I don't believe you," Dean declared with a playful swagger. "You probably don't even have a halo. Maybe you dropped it somewhere, and now you're just pretending you've still got it."

To anyone but Cas, it would have been obvious that Dean was kidding. But Cas was Cas, and he was definitely insulted now, as if Dean was questioning his angelhood. "I do have a halo, Dean!"

It was like an argument on an elementary school playground, and Dean was never one to raise the bar of a conversation. "Prove it."

Cas scowled, jaw jutting out in anger. "Fine, I will show you." Cas didn't meet his eyes, staring at the floor and clenching his fists. "But not here. At the motel."

When Cas looked up for the barest of instants, his gaze was all for Dean, who seemed alarmed by whatever he saw before Cas was gone in a flash. "I think I might've hurt his feelings," Dean muttered, swallowing.

Sam smiled sympathetically; Dean was an annoying ass most of the time, but only because he cared. "He'll forgive you." Usually Cas was a riddle wrapped in an enigma, but Sam was confident that Cas was too attached to Dean to hold a little teasing against him.

"It's just a damn halo," Dean muttered to the recently angel-vacated space before striding toward the car with a scowl on his face.

It was obvious to Sam that Dean's bad mood on the ride to the motel was due to his anger at himself. They were zooming by the other cars, so he checked the Impala's speedometer. The reading made him cringe; Dean might be anxious to make nice with Cas, but Sam was more concerned with reaching the motel alive, thanks. "Hey, could you slow down to just twenty or thirty above the speed limit?"

"Pussy," he said grumpily. But he did slow down a little.

When they arrived, Cas was seated on the edge of the double bed furthest from the door, head bent, hands clutching his knees. Wide and anxious eyes looked up at them.

What's up with him? Sam wondered. He was nervous like a virgin teenage girl who'd let her boyfriend talk her into going all the way.

Dean tensed with concern. Gently, he said, "Hey Cas, you know I was just messing around before, right? You don't have to do anything you don't want."

His tenderness took Sam by surprise. It wasn't like they knew Cas that well—at least Sam didn't. How much time had they spent together without Sam around? It was weird for Dean to have a friend of his own, wholly unconnected with Sam, but Sam figured that was kind of his fault. His throat constricted with guilt topped up by jealousy.

"I said I'd show you," said Cas softly, raising his chin. "You promise you won't laugh?"

Those words were among the top five things most likely to make Dean laugh, in Sam's experience.

"Promise," Dean said, actually sounding sincere about it too.

"Promise," Sam echoed.

So Cas heaved a deep sigh and scrunched his eyes. Then, slowly, a shining ring appeared a few inches above his head, alighting the crown of his head in golden light.

There was nothing funny about it; Cas looked breathtaking. He looked like Castiel, so holy that Sam's struggling faith made noises oddly like old, memorized prayers in the back of his mind.

"Woah, Cas, it's like you've got a glow stick over your head. Can I touch it?"

It was only natural for Dean to take all that holiness and pop the mood like a child stomping on a balloon. "Dean, for God's sake," Sam muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.


"If you want," said Cas, looking away as a shy blush spread over his cheeks.

Dean stepped forward and reached up to touch the halo, his fingers sweeping tentatively over the edge.

"Neat, it's like Magic Fingers!" Dean declared. He rubbed harder, and the vibrations became more pronounced, so that Sam could see the shaking in Dean's arm. He was grinning like he always did with that creepy Magic Fingers machine, too.

And each stroke of Dean's fingers brought out a pleased hum from the angel. "Come on, you've got to touch it," Dean cajoled him. Dean's fingers tickled a new spot on the halo that made Cas gasp. A lazy, half-lidded smile spread on his face that was so out of place on the usually somber angel that it made Sam very uncomfortable.

"Uh, I'll pass. He's all yours."

Where Sam was discomfited, Dean was brimming with enjoyment as Cas unwound beneath his fingers. And they were staring at each other again like they were trying to communicate with their eyes in an intimate language known only to them.

Sam felt like he was intruding. "I'm uh, going to research...something." He pointed toward the desk in the corner; neither of them acknowledged him.


And thus Sam ended up on a senselessly entertaining website (because he didn't have any real research to do) reading about other people's woes and growing increasingly certain that his life sucked quite a lot more than average.

A deep, unholy groan slicked like butter through Sam's brain.

Gritting his teeth, he shut his laptop, determined to stop this kinky madness.

Cas lay crosswise on one of the room's two beds, head in Dean's lap as Dean gripped, twisted and spun the gold-gleaming halo. Always physically intuitive, Dean had worked out a rhythm that made Cas's lips part and his throat produce guttural sounds punctuated by an occasional mewl. The whole bed vibrated underneath the pair.

Dean noticed Sam's cold stare and grinned mischievously in return. "It's like giving a puppy a belly rub. Who's a good Cas?" he cooed as he rubbed the halo faster. "Who's a good angel? Who's the best angel in the world?"

Cas gazed up into Dean's eyes with pure adoration.

Sam comprehended the dog comparison. Maybe he was being a prude. After all, Dean was happy, Cas was happy, and everyone had their clothes on. Dean deserved some harmless enjoyment. For his brother's sake, Sam decided to go back to his computer, put on his headphones and turn up the music.

But then Dean did something twitchy with his wrist that wrung an honest-to-God moan from Cas, who nuzzled his halo into Dean's hand for more. "You like that, huh?" said Dean. Cas bit his lip and hummed desperately in agreement.

Now they'd crossed the line from doggy talk to sex talk, and Sam's half-second resolution to ignore them broke. "That's enough! You two are creeping me out!"

Dean stopped rubbing the halo and glared at Sam as if he were the world's wettest blanket. "What's your problem? We had a long, crappy day, and now it's happy angel fun time!"

"It looks more like happy angel orgasm time."

Castiel turned his head in Dean's lap to face Sam. He glowered in a way that clearly stated, You are interrupting happy angel fun time, and for that, I will end you.

Coming from someone strong enough to detach Sam's skull with his bare hands and wear it as a hat, the non-verbal threat was alarming. Sam took a couple of steps back.

Dean didn't seem to notice that his angel was threatening to kill his brother. "Get your mind out of the gutter. He's not even hard, see?" Dean gestured at Castiel's crotch.

"Don't point at him there like that! God, this is exactly what I mean!"

"Hard?" asked Cas, brow crinkling in confusion.

"Aroused," Dean explained. "No boner, no sexytimes. Hence we are completely gay-free, and Sam is a paranoid girl, as usual."

"Yeah? So holding Cas's vibrating head in your lap isn't doing anything for you?"

Dean glanced down at his own crotch, then back up again with flushed guilt. "...Shut up."

Castiel huffed in frustration with the conversation, then grabbed Dean's hand and put it back on his halo. Dean rubbed it absently, a fond look growing on his face.

"Maybe angels don't get aroused like people do," Sam suggested.

"Dude, Cas is people." He said it decisively, as if Sam insulted his angel buddy (who now doubled as his free Magic Fingers machine).

"I mean like humans do, Dean. He's not human, so maybe he's got different...anatomy," he put delicately.

"You mean the halo is his angel penis."

Sam decided that God was definitely dead and rolling over in his grave. "If you have to put it in the crudest way possible, yes."

The beginnings of a mocking smirk spread on Dean's lips, but when Cas let out a needy whimper, it reversed itself. Dean's hand slowed, then stopped, as he frowned in consideration.

"Hey, uh, Cas?" Dean began nervously. "Is your halo like a special angel part?"

Castiel frowned and grabbed Dean's wrist stubbornly. "Don't stop," he ordered.

Dean looked at his brother, gaze pleading for help.

Sam gifted him with a what the hell do you expect me to do eye roll. Apparently asking Cas to show off his halo was the equivalent of making him drop his pants and whip it out. And if he was enjoying it a little too much, it was one hundred percent Dean's fault.

"I think you've had enough," said Dean, ineffectively trying to edge away even as Cas was still partially on top of him. " I don't know what you think this is, but—"

Cas sat up, and Dean seemed momentarily relieved until Cas placed his hand on his crotch and squeezed gently. "Woah! Not cool!"

"My eyes!" Sam cried out as he covered them with his forearm.

"It is human custom to reciprocate such attentions," said Castiel matter-of-factly.

"Not in front of my brother! Christ!"

And just like that, Sam found himself staring down his nose at the other side of the door. The key was in his pocket, though, and he flicked it out urgently as he heard Dean's voice call out, "Sam!" But then Sam heard a muffled but distinct unzipping. "Easy on the jeans! They're my favorite!"

Sam put the key back into his pocket. This was totally Dean's fault, one thousand percent, so he could deal with the horny angel.


The room was dark when Sam got back hours later. He flicked on a light.

Then he blinked. Hard.

Dean and Cas were under the sheets, their limbs splayed together, with Cas's head pressed into Dean's shoulder. The room looked like a laundry bag had exploded in the middle of it—Cas's trench coat thrown over Sam's laptop, Dean's pants slung over the curtain rod, someone's sock hanging from the lamp. It was a Where's Waldo of clothing.

Dean's eyes blinked open. They traded stares. "Hey Sam," he said, voice rough from sleep.

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to the scene. He felt pissed. "I can't believe you," he said with a measure of disgust as he roughly tugged his duffel open.

"What do you care anyway?" Dean countered.

Sam looked up from his bag, hand clenching around the clothes inside to let off some stress. "So what, you're gay now? With Cas?" He tried to sound offhand, but the grit in his voice was evident even to Sam.

"Nah. I'm halosexual. Now shut up or you'll wake the angel, and then I'll get carpal tunnel." Cas stirred, and Dean shushed him gently, rubbing a hand over his bare back.

Sam's anger ebbed at the sight until he couldn't recall why he was angry in the first place. "Yeah, okay," he murmured as he got undressed. He was back to figuring that if Dean was happy, then it was okay, even if everyone didn't have their clothes on.


Those charitable thoughts were gone when Sam woke up the next morning and saw that.

Today, I woke up to the sight of my brother having sex. With a male angel. The halo is detachable. FML