Title: Don't Shake Me Lucifer
By: Mancuso
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
AN: I haven't been crediting where my song-inspired titles come from, so I guess I'll start doing that now since nobody today knows who Roky Erickson is and that's a shame. Anywho. Title is from the song "Don't Shake Me Lucifer" by Roky Erickson. I can so see Dean being a fan. And because I didn't credit my other song titles I'll do that here. (Sooo off topic, but oh well) "Burning From the Inside" comes from Bauhaus' song of the same name. And chapter 3 of TUCoCaW, "But Nervously We Wonder When and Why" comes from the song "Nervously" by the Petshop Boys...who I can NOT see Dean being a fan of, lol. Also...I don't own Supernatural or affiliates.
Summary: Dean is laid up with a cold when Castiel comes to call. Seems light-hearted and humurous in the first half, but it gets pretty heavy in the second half.


Dean honked into the Kleenex for the third time, and nothing came of it. "AUGH! If dere's do sdot, why does by dose feel so full!" He threw the wadded up tissue across the room to join its mates in a pile at the foot of the bed.

"Dean, I understand you feel like crap and everything, but I'd like to keep the room as sanitary as possible while we have to live in it. And I don't want to catch whatever you've got, so you better pick those up. I've gotta go to the library to do some research."

"You're leaving?" Dean looked pitiful. His eyes were wide and pleading.

"Yes, Dean. Just for a few hours. I think you can handle yourself. You don't have the plague."

"But I'b rudding out of tissues!"

"Maybe room service can bring you some. I've got to go, Dean. Library closes in three hours."

"Who's go-igh to bake be a cad of soup?" He sniffled inwardly, and the sound was wet and popping. "Ahhhhh. I can breathe again!" He shouted triumphantly.

"Do you have any idea how disgusting you are? I'm leaving, now. Make your own damn soup. You've got a cold. You're not bed ridden. I'll see you." Sam grabbed his key to the motel room and the keys to the impala and left.

"Great." Dean groaned. He rolled onto his side and balled up, hugging the comforter all wadded up into something he could securely put his arms around and squeeze. This sucked. It was warm in here, but Dean was shivering. His nose was constantly running if he wasn't blowing it, and if he was blowing it, his nasal passages got all swollen and he felt stuffed up.

"God. I know you're there." He said out loud. It was the first time he'd ever prayed with his voice. But only the fourth time he'd ever prayed. "Yeah...I know you are because you sent your Iago to pull me out of the pit. Maybe you should send another angel to bring me some Dayquil or something." He hadn't meant the prayer to be taken seriously. As far as he believed, nobody was listening. He was right in assuming that God wasn't. God had other, less trivial, matters to attend to. He couldn't be listening to his Right Hand Man all the time, could he? And perhaps Dean wasn't the only one. Perhaps the weight of the world fell on more than just his shoulders. No matter. Somebody was listening to Dean's prayer.

"Holy shit!" Dean rolled off the bed when he felt the weight of another sink into the mattress. He didn't hit his head, but it ached anyway due to the shift in gravity. His shoulders, back, and joints ached as well.

Castiel leaned over the side of the bed to look at Dean. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to alarm you."

"You could've knocked." Dean grunted, pulling himself back onto the bed with his heap of comforter which, he found, did indeed comfort. "What're you doing here? Please don't tell me you have some big important mission for me right now. I really think it'd kill me."

"Sam was right when he called you a big baby."

"You were spying on us earlier?" Dean snarled. The angel just shrugged his shoulders. "Well, anyway. I'm not a baby. I just hate being sick more than anything. I hate being taken out of the game by a few microscopic germs."

"It is ironic, isn't it?" Castiel smiled lightly.

"Yeah. Your boss-man sure has some sense of humor, doesn't he?" Dean smirked cynically. "So. Again. What're you doing here?"

"Sam left."

"I know this."

"And you asked God to send somebody."

Dean blinked. "And he listened..."

"I listened."

"Oh. I see. Right. Angels to God as Elves to Santa. Gotcha."

Castiel sighed, brushing Dean's sarcastic wit off and produced the requested bottle of Dayquil. Dean stared at it in amazement.

"You're kidding?"

"I don't 'kid.'"

"Wow." Dean took the bottle and chugged about a third of it, grimacing when done and swallowing the excessive saliva in his mouth trying to rid it of the taste. "What would've really been impressive is if you'd of brought the citrus kind."

"Is it really of importance?" Castiel asked.

"No. Actually, they both taste like acrid penile discharge."

Castiel made a face, but Dean only took pride in it. He capped the bottle and set it on the nightstand. "You know how to make soup?" He asked.

"Why, are you hungry?"

"No, but I'd like to be prepared. Of course I'm hungry. I wouldn't have asked if I weren't."

"No." Castiel said. "I don't know how to make soup. But if you like, I can run out and get you some." He stood again, and Dean felt a sudden intense longing to make him sit.

"No. It's okay. I'm not that hungry. Stay." He didn't mean to actually say the last part. It just sort of made its way out. Dean didn't want to sound needy. But anyone could learn from Sam that illness made him that way.

"Alright." Castiel's voice was thick, deep, smooth, and absolutely soothing to Dean in that moment. "What would you like, then?"

"Are you serious? You're here to just...wait on me?"

"Within boundaries, yes."

"What sort of boundaries?"

"They'll be established as we come to them." Castiel assured.

"Okay." Dean thought hard for a moment. There was nothing on TV, he didn't particularly like to read, and Sam was gone. But now he had an angel in the room with him. He could find his own source of entertainment. "So you're like a subservient angel? Do you get a website? And do your wings come in crispy or original recipe?"

Castiel blinked at him. "I really don't know what you're talking about, Dean."

"Seriously, dude. You need to brush up on your pop culture. Hey, Sammy left his computer here and this room's got wireless internet. I should totally show you 2 Girls 1 Cup."

"Should I even bother asking?"

"No...no you definitely should not. You'd probably toss me right back into Hell."

Castiel sighed moved back onto the bed beside Dean. Closer now than before. He kicked his shoes up and brought his legs up with him so that he was sitting on them.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked hesitantly. The close proximity made him a little nervous.

"Turn." Castiel commanded.

Dean did, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. He changed his mind when he felt Castiel's cool hands against the hot flesh of his neck. He was...giving him a massage? It certainly seemed so. The chilly tips of his fingers were working in small circles over the skin of Dean's neck. It felt unbelievable.

"If you remove your shirt I can get the rest of your back."

"What are you doing?" Dean asked. "Healing me?"

"No. If I were healing you, I wouldn't have brought your medicine you asked for. I'm just taking away the ache."

Dean removed his shirt with Castiel's help. The fact that the angel was helping him take it off was enough to get him tingly and warm inside. It was pretty damn queer, in Dean's opinion. But before he could make any sarcastic remarks, Castiel's hands were on him again. His shoulders this time. Dean carried a lot of tension in his shoulders, so his whole body, including his brain, seemed to relax at the prompting of Castiel's magic hands.

"Harder." Dean commanded.

Though Dean couldn't see it, Castiel raised his eyebrow. Had those beautiful, full, human lips just barked an order at him? And not a usual order from Dean. This order was backed up by fleshy human need. Castiel was excited by it. He suddenly understood how it was possible for an angel to fall amongst the world of men. Was he in danger of the same fate?

Meanwhile, Dean was grappling with the same question of mortal sin. Was he really enjoying this too much? Or was it just the divinity getting to him? It wasn't like the blood was rushing to his groin. He wasn't hard. But the feeling wasn't unlike being sexually excited, either. The touch of another human, any human, was admittedly more intimate than one's own or even the touch of a loving pet. There was some sort of special kindred electricity there. This was even stronger. The touch of an angel. This was like...the touch of a loved one times 100. The electric bond was beyond sexual. It was ethereal and he didn't only feel it in the base of his spine or the insides of his thighs. He felt it in his elbows, his toenails, his eyelashes, and even his appendix and his spleen. Like an injection of morphine straight to the jugular. He didn't feel sick anymore. He still smelled the sick on himself, but that was the only thing left to remind him of his own ailment. He felt bliss.

Castiel's hands dropped from there practice too soon. They hadn't even made it past his shoulders. Dean jerked into consciousness and his head swung around to see what was the matter. The look on Castiel's face communicated everything. Something was wrong. He looked heartbroken.

"Why'd you stop?" Dean asked, reeling as if junk-sick. All the aches and discomfort from before had flooded back into his senses in an instant. The worst kind of withdrawal.

"I'm afraid."

Dean shook his head and Castiel wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Afraid of what? Is something coming?" Dean braced himself.

"No. Dean...I'm afraid of you."

There was a moment between them in which Castiel felt the hurt of what he'd just said. He didn't want to fear Dean because he loved him at the same time. He'd always loved him. He loved Sam, too. He loved all of God's creatures, living, saved, and damned. Things were still business, however. Always had been. He felt his love for demons through pity. He felt his love of humans through compassion and tolerance. He was beginning to feel his love of Dean through all of this and now the flesh. It was as if this vessel was taking hold of him. But that was not possible. And God must have known. Was this a test, or was it a fate meant to be carried out? Perhaps their love would only make them stronger. More willing to fight for one another. Like The Sacred Band of Thebes. The two of them, an army of lovers together.

Dean, on the other hand, stared dumbly at the angel while he considered these things. He couldn't conceive of what he'd just heard.

"You're afraid of me? Why?" He reached his hand out to touch the angel's face, but he never remembered consenting to the action. Something was pulling on his muscles, but it wasn't logic.

Castiel moved away from the caress at first, but finally succumbed to it. It was eventual. Dean wanted to touch him, and he would touch him. After all Castiel was, indeed, here for Dean. It seemed at that moment like a deathtrap.

"Dean. If I kiss you, I don't know what will happen."

Dean let on a small smirk. "Why would you kiss me? I'm...all germy." He was going to say that he wasn't gay, but he thought better of it. His sexuality just didn't seem to apply at the moment. It didn't matter. He regretted ever even considering it, because now it was on his mind. He was straight. Definitely straight. But he was strongly attracted to the angel. Maybe not because of the body, although he could recognize it as a beautiful choice of vessel. But maybe it was other-worldly love. Should it be this strong? Or was it a gateway to sin to feel the sudden urge to take the creature in his arms and sink with him into whatever atmosphere of electricity and passion they could make for themselves?

"I'm afraid of falling. I'm...God told me you'd be special. He told me I'd love you like I'd never loved before. He told me I would betray him, but he did not say it with any malice. I'm afraid I'm his Judas. But what if the guilt is my punishment instead of the fire?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean's hand moved from Castiel's cheek, down to his jaw and neck and rested over his shoulder.

"If I love you more than Him...and I think, now, that that's what he meant by betrayal, I don't know what my punishment will be."

"I never understood that rule, myself. But you're going to have to explain to me what you're getting at here. Why're we talking about love?" There was a tremor in Dean's voice. He knew Castiel was talking about himself, but he wondered, suddenly, if the angel could read him. If he knew that Dean was having similar thoughts only moments before.

Castiel allowed himself a few breaths. Lucifer could not shake him. Angels could not be tempted by him. He had nothing they wanted and Castiel's temptation had nothing to do with the capital E Evil. Lucifer was the worst of the fallen angels because it was not love that brought him down, it was pride, arrogance, and defiance. God had forgiven angels for losing sight of Him and loving humans in the past, but never had it been a part of His plan. So why would he order it now? And if it was God-ordered...why would it still be called betrayal? Was he even meant to know? Something in him was telling him that it was right. That God required this...thing to happen.

"Dean...I want you to know that you are not at risk. The temptation you feel...and you do feel it, don't you?"

Dean nodded.

"It's not wicked, Dean. It's pure and sanctified. My willpower to do as God requires me...even though it scares me is what's being tested. If I doubt Him and His message, I fail. Do you know the story of The Passion of Christ?"

"Well...I saw Jesus Christ Superstar. And Sammy had the record."

Castiel smiled. "That's not far off, actually. It's the more accurate version of the story. You see...it sympathizes with Judas. Judas was not sent to Hell for betraying his friend. He was not because it was pre-conceived that he would do so. It was prophesized. Why should he suffer in Hell for something fate had compelled him to do? Without Judas' kiss, mankind would never have won redemption."

Dean seemed to be distracted, his fingers and eyes dancing over the collar of Castiel's vessel's work shirt, but he was listening intently. "I don't understand."

"Dean. It's God's will that I be His Judas."

"And so you betray Him? How does this help our cause..."

Dean didn't have time to look up from his fingers' play before Castiel's warm soft lips fell over his. Crashing into them. The shock was enough to bring a man out of a coma. There was a feeling that wrapped around them. To Castiel it was familiar, because he'd felt it so many times before. He'd made his home in it. To Dean, it was new, other-worldly, indescribable, and impossible. These feelings did not exist in the human plane. How should he be feeling them? It was the true definition of ecstasy. No mortal but himself must know it. He didn't have to think to know this when their lips touched. The knowledge just came to him fluidly. Human engineering had left him completely and there was only this perfect mass-less and form-less being that was himself.

It all left him in a vacuum rush as his and Castiel's lips parted. He breathed hard, not able to open his eyes, as though in sleep paralysis. Again, he became aware of all the little aches and pains he hadn't even noticed before being completely and totally relieved of them moments ago. He finally forced his eyes open as he fell against the heaving chest of his Angel. The object of his affection.

"Betrayed with a kiss?" Be brought his eyes up to meet Castiel's. Chin resting on the angel's rising and falling chest.

Castiel kissed his forehead, pressing his lips down as if he were a priest blessing the forehead of a young child with the ashes of the palms. This was all the answer Dean required. By the clock on the cheap motel VCR, they had at least a good two hours before Sam would return. The cold forgotten, and the salvation of the human race put aside, the two found peace in each others arms. And they were determined to cling to it for as long as they could before the world met its end.