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Title: Accidental (Team Free) Lovin' (Bow Chika Wow Wo- argh! My eyes!)

Authors: Mistina60 and Sailor Shipper

Beta: none

Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel

Rating: R

Spoilers: Season 4, at the very least.

Length: 12,416 words

Summary: Dean Winchester finally succumbs to his 'more than friends' feelings for Castiel. It is a sickeningly romantic evening. When they return to the shabby motel room, however, they discover the evening wasn't romantic at all. It was... Tainted. So very, very tainted.



A gentle moon, along with the many stars that softly speckled the night sky, gazed down fondly upon a desolate highway. The celestial bodies illuminated the parking lot below. A parking lot set right next to the road to pick up the weary travellers (few as they may be) for the cheap motel it belonged to. The eerily quiet and overgrown highway, the rundown motel with an aura of sleaze and the parking lot full of cracks and faded stall lines are the only human structures for miles in all directions. The rest was wilderness.

The moon's glow blanketed the forlorn scene below her. Her light smoothed over the roughness of the concrete. Her light softened the shabby vehicles appearances by hitting every reflective surface amidst their filth thereby masking their flaws (well, except the one that was flawless to begin with). Her light embraced the flickers of incandescent light of the motel and together bathed the parking lot in a sepia aura.

The cheap and dirty motel wasn't cheap and dirty tonight.

Not under the moon's rays.

No. The atmosphere was... Romantic.

Normally this would make Dean Winchester sick to his stomach and run for the hills. He wasn't romantic. He couldn't afford to be, not with his lifestyle. Having been burned too many times before, he's learned to take what he can get then move on because that fit into a life on the road. Casual sex is the norm. Romance is deviant. Thus when faced with romance he is sickened and he runs.

However, he wasn't looking down at the glowing pavement beneath his feet, nor the glistening cars around him, nor the motel bathed in a sepia glow behind him, nor the sky which was most romantic and beautiful of all (not that he looked up at the sky much, unless a homicidal spirit flew overhead or when in desperation he cries out to a God he doesn't believe in 'Why?').

No, the romantic atmosphere was completely and utterly lost on Dean.

He need not hurl or run…

…or so one would believe.

"Dean?"

The speaker, with the deep gravelly voice, is all Dean could see at the moment. Pale skin luminous and sharp features glowed under the moon's soft light. His stubble a gentle shadow sweeping across his jaw and his hair pitch black with flecks of blue where the light hits. Most captivating of all are his eyes, a blue so striking that they shone despite his natural squint.

Castiel.

Under the moon's light he truly looked like the angel of the lord that he is.

But now his eyes were wide, in confusion and concern, their intensity increasing ten-fold.

"Dean? Are you alright?" he asked as he leaned forward, his nose inches away from Dean's. Struggling to discern the source of the hunter's awkward posture, he cocked his head to the side in a bird-like manner.

Dean flinched and his breath caught in his throat so suddenly he actually choked a bit. Once his airway cleared his breathing was rapid. He flushed scarlet. His palms were now clammy. He fidgeted. He was extremely awkward.

Yet... He didn't back away. He didn't run.

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