runedgirl | The Game Is Afoot (Dean/Sam)

Title: The Game Is Afoot
Author:

runedgirl
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Dean/Sam, Cas, Meg
Word Count 1,350
Summary: Missing Scene from S7 season finale, written for Missing Scenes comment fic meme for a lovely prompt by

write_light
Warning: Spoilers for season finale

Meg eyes the box on the table as she saunters into the room, the corners of her mouth already turning up in a smirk. Dean’s poring over a stack of papers. Sam’s hunched over his ever-present laptop.

“Oh, too bad, somebody put the Twister game away already.”

Sam and Dean both jerk their heads up, two pairs of eyes going a little wider when they catch hers. She smiles, wide with her red lips closed tightly, like a shark scenting fresh bait. Sam shifts in his chair, darts a glance at Dean, then looks back down at his laptop, hands suddenly busy. Dean just holds her gaze, green eyes narrowed in warning.

The predatory look on her face says oh yes, this is going to be fun.

From the stairs where he likes to sit, feet curled up under him like a cat on the windowsill, Cas watches. He looks serene on the outside, unperturbed by the loaded glances and the demon’s way of twisting the words around her tongue until they sound like something else all together. It’s like the game, he thinks, the way she pushes and pulls things to where they don’t belong until they’re tangled up, hard to decipher. She knows it. They understand each other, Cas and Meg. People underestimate them both; quirky is a good disguise.

“It’s just that I was hoping you boys would play another game,” Meg goes on, and this time Sam startles visibly, fingers hovering over the laptop. Dean stiffens, shoulders going straight like a tomcat arching his back and puffing himself up, ready for battle. Cas likes the analogy, likes thinking of Dean that way. Tomcat swagger, a little bit feral.

Cas catches Meg’s eye from across the room. Where is this going? She softens her smile for him, but Cas isn’t fooled; her eyes are glittering, wanting to go black.

“Fuck off,” Dean says. It’s a tomcat’s hiss, a warning to back off before his claws come out. Dean protects what’s his; Sam is his. Cas has always known it. Meg is maybe just learning.

Meg slinks a little closer, relishing what she clearly believes is the upper hand. Dean straightens in his chair, strong chin jutting. Defiant.

Beside him, Sam has straightened too, sensing danger and instinctively putting his shoulder to his brother’s. He’s broad, back thickly muscled. Cas forgets sometimes, how strong Sam is. No matter the pain he holds inside, the bad things Cas let loose in him and then tried to take away again. They’re not all gone. Cas and Sam know this; Dean doesn’t. It’s a secret they keep, something that bonds them. Meg doesn’t know it either.

There’s a lot she still doesn’t know about the Winchesters. She doesn’t realize that they’re a single entity when threatened. Cas has seen it; felt it even. When the two of them are behind him, it feels more solid than the entire garrison ever did. There’s strength in passion, he thinks. Meg hasn’t figured out how much.

“Relax, sugar,” she coos at Dean, hands in the pockets of her jeans like she’s really the pretty little good girl that her meatsuit was once upon a time, no threat at all, shucks. Cas can’t help but smile; he likes it, when she plays at that. She’s good at it.

“I was just hoping to get another eyeful, that’s all.”

Oh, so that’s it. Meg’s finally figured out just how close they are. It took her a while, but then, they haven’t been like they were before. Too much in the way, hell walls and Dick and saving the world. Cas is sorry he wasn’t there when she caught them; he likes to watch too, likes to see them both taking something for themselves. Likes the way their strong bodies twist and curl and thrust against each other, Sam tanned and sweat-slick, Dean pale and freckled and reduced to moaning Sam’s name.

“I said,” Dean repeats, never taking his eyes off hers, “Fuck off.”

“What’s the matter, big boy? Hit a nerve?” She finds Castiel’s eyes then, her expression a question. Does he know?

He nods, just once, and Meg’s smirk curves downward into a frown, her upper hand gone in a puff of black smoke.

There’s a small gasp from one of the boys – Dean. Cas smiles, shrugs. Sometimes it’s easier to play dumb, and he likes to spare their feelings when he can. It’s nice, though, to watch the way Dean’s cheeks blush, the tips of his ears going red. Sam’s blushing too, purposely avoiding Castiel’s eyes.

“Awww,” Meg says, pleased once again. “They’re embarrassed, Cas, how cute is that? Didn’t think the angel knew about your sick incestuous thing, huh boys? Didn’t think he knew how you suck each other’s dicks and take it up the ass for each other?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

It’s Sam who stands up, all 6’ 4” of him towering over the diminutive demon. Despite herself, she backs up a step. Sam Winchester is imposing even when you know he’s just a human now, no more demon blood in his veins, but still.

“Sam,” Dean says, and his hand rests on Sam’s elbow, holding on. “Leave it.” His voice is calm, but Cas can see the worry there. He’s not afraid of Meg, not concerned that Cas might judge him. No. He’s worried about Sam. That Sam might feel judged, that Sam might be hurt by this thing between them that Dean won’t ever stop judging himself for.

“Gotta admit,” Meg says, because she doesn’t know when to stop, demons never do. “It was hot. Both of you in just your shorts, all twined around each other on the game board, bodies straining, hard in no time and trying to be all quiet and shit. There’s something about watching a guy try not to make a sound when there’s a hand wrapped around his dick, when he’s fucking shaking all over with how good it is. Couldn’t quite do it, could you, boys? Do you know you whimper like a little girl when you come, Dean? And that Sam growls like he’s still half demon? I think you like that, Dean.”

“SHUT UP!”

Dean’s on his feet now too, and Meg is finally backing up, belatedly realizing she might have gone too far.

“Anybody up for a rematch?” Cas asks mildly, appearing between the red-faced Winchesters and the slightly frightened demon, holding out the game with a smile. It’s enough to stop all of them in their tracks.

“Whatever keeps you tangled up together, it’s good for the game,” he continues, nodding like it’s the most important message ever delivered. Maybe it is.

“Cas,” Dean protests weakly, shaking his head.

His eyes aren’t worried anymore, though, and that’s all that matters.