TWO HALVES OF A WHOLE;
What: Written for kitty_alex over at the spn_rarepair prompt meme. Prompt was: Castiel gets a new vessel, for some reason, Jimmy is displeased and misses him.
Word Count: ~1,300
Warnings: PG-13; language, sexuality
Going from pastoral to janitorial was a lot like falling out of a tree and hitting every branch on the way down.
It isn't that he ever liked being possessed (Because, come on, how comfortable can it be to be worn like a Sunday suit and blown up twice?), it's just that Jimmy isn't used to feeling empty.
At first, it's pretty damned awesome.
And then the hunger sets in.
And the thirst.
And pretty soon his entire body feels like it was set on fire because you can't be chained to a comet and come out of the whole ordeal unscathed.
So yeah, Jimmy's drowning his sorrows in liquor, why dontcha sue him for chrissakes, but when his stomach's so full he's got to throw it all back up, he doesn't feel as empty as before.
His wife? His child?
Died of old age, so that's nice, at least. He did a little sleuthing and found out that Amelia never re-married. Claire found a guy in Baltimore, God bless her little heart, but they moved to Pennsylvania, so he guessed that turned out okay in the end. He's got great-grandchildren in their twenties, and if he thought technology was overwhelming before, he's got another thing coming, because just using a fucking toaster feels like rocket science now.
Castiel didn't drop him like a dead weight. Jimmy figures his time spent with the Winchesters all those years ago taught him a thing or two about courtesy. So he's got that, at least; a roomie who doesn't help pay the rent, and who flies in and out of the apartment on the slightest whim, and who disappears for month-long stretches at a time. But at least the angel had the foresight to stick him with a job, even if going from pastoral to janitorial was a lot like falling out of a tree and hitting every branch on the way down.
Speaking of excruciating pain, Jimmy sometimes wishes Castiel could feel it. Because he's digging his nails into the angel's arm right now, and he's shouting something that he's not even fully aware he's saying, but he's almost entirely certain the conversation is going to end with, "Just kill me already!" and that always tends to make Cas fly away for another month or so before coming back.
Jimmy's not too afraid to kill himself, but he's devout, and he doesn't want to go to Hell on accident.
He's also sort of jealous, because why the fuck did Cas have to find another vessel in the first place?
And also, why the fuck did Cas have to find another vessel that was so attractive, he broke Jimmy's heterosexuality into itty bitty pieces?
Half of it was the angel behind the pretty face, and the familiar voice that leapt from the unfamiliar person's throat. Or maybe it was three-fourths. Or maybe…
Okay, fine. Jimmy has the hots for an angel, and since he is so going to Hell for this, he might as well go ahead and jump off of the nearest skyscraper and get the whole damned thing over with.
Except he's pretty sure Cas would probably just manifest his wings and catch him.
And that's sorta sad, because he doesn't know if the angel'd do it out of guilt, or because he wanted to.
But when he leans forward and crushes his lips to Castiel's -- brown hair, still, blue eyes, still -- he figures he's doing that because he's crazy and he's stupid, and he's got nothing else.
Cas doesn't lean back, and Jimmy's so damn thankful for that he groans into the other's mouth and grips his shirt -- no trench coat anymore, and that makes Cas seem so much smaller.
Jimmy is terrified the angel is gonna push him away.
It doesn't happen.
Jimmy needs this. He wants to stop himself, but he really just can't.
So there's a bed in their apartment that's never really used, because Castiel doesn't sleep, he perches, and Jimmy's got insomnia, and neither of them have ever brought a woman home before, despite the fact that they've lived there for a couple of years now, and, well, the mattress has gotta be used for something, right?
Turns out "sex" is the first thing that comes to mind.
Jimmy's only human, after all.
He doesn't want Cas to go away again, because dammit if he doesn't miss the freak every second of every day he isn't there. And he's a little bit terrified that if he doesn't stop, he'll never see the angel again, but his hands are moving on their own, and his lips are trembling, and he wants this so bad it fucking hurts.
Castiel had been a part of him, after all, had been inside of him for years, and you can't just take that away and expect everything to be alright in the end.
He wants to be needed. He wants to be used.
He wants to be full, and yeah, fuck, that sounds really bad and cheesy and something a seventies pornstar would say while waving his dick around in front of the camera, but right now there isn't a camera, and right now Jimmy's too busy trying to suck the life out of Castiel to talk, and right now feels like a helpless moment of truth. You can stop it about as easily as you can stop a freight train with a toothpick.
But then Castiel's hands are on his sides, and Jimmy freezes because he knows with one shove Cas can send him flying across the room, but instead he's pulled closer, tugged down with the kind of firm assurance he was aching for, and when chests collide, when legs entangle, when groins grind against each other, Jimmy's pretty damned sure he's died and gone to Heaven.
He moans into the angel's mouth, pleads, prays, and Castiel answers with a slide of his tongue, a roll of his hips, the solid, steady pressure of smooth palms sliding up under the shirt and feeling the soft skin beneath.
Jimmy feels so needy. He breaks away from the kiss and starts to laugh because, really? This can't be happening.
Castiel kisses his neck, and Jimmy feels like crying.
It isn't until sweet friction sparks their dicks to life that Jimmy accepts this as reality.
He's on a bed above Castiel, and Castiel is dominating him, and he's loving every. Single. Fucking. Second of it.
"Yeah," he moans, and then their pants are off and he says it again, "Yeah."
Castiel doesn't have to ask him what he likes or how to do it, because Castiel knows him more intimately than anyone or anything else ever could. They're two halves of a whole.
Cas was meant to be inside of Jimmy, and so when it happens it isn't easy, but it's natural.
And to Jimmy it's almost familiar. The pressure, the pain. It's the pleasure that's new; the pleasure that's exciting and dangerous and a whole new world of wrong.
But he can't stop until Cas stops, and Cas doesn't stop for a very long time, and when the push, pull, push, pull of it all comes to a screeching halt, and when the groan of an angelic being nearly shatters his sensitive eardrums, Jimmy falls limp, and doesn't move, and keeps Cas inside, doesn't want him to go, winces when the angel moves, takes the pain gladly, loves it when it starts all over again.
It's all fingertips and sweaty palms and blue eyes matching blue eyes and guttural noises barely human, others not even bothering to disguise themselves as such.
The angel is watching him, doesn't sleep.
Jimmy may not be his vessel anymore, but Jimmy is still his.