Here and Now

a/n: Just a quick Megstiel one-shot prompted by someone on tumblr. I'm done with the flashback scenes in "Half of Something Else," and sometimes I need these little Meg/Cas moments to distract me from the over-arching action of "Half." Don't worry, though: you'll have an update there soon!

eta: edited a tiny bit to add a line I meant to write in the first place but somehow left out. Kinda makes the whole situation make a bit more sense.

...You can turn traitor;
You can turn on your heels;
But you can't change later
Here and now just how good we can feel.
-Del Amitri, "Here and Now"

"I think you're misunderstanding the terms of our little arrangement, Clarence. You don't get to tell me what to do or where to go." She stormed through the door and slammed it behind her, in his face. He glared at it and appeared in front of her a moment later, his face still, eyes simmering.

"I simply think you should consider before doing anything rash. What is there in Hell for you? You've got a life up here."

"Hell is my home. I belong there. I'm a demon, for fuck's sake!" She shoved past him, stripped off her jacket, and threw it on the couch. He followed her into the bedroom and watched as she transformed into a minor whirlwind of flying clothes and shoes. Sometimes she cleaned when she got angry.

"I understand that, but—"

"Wouldn't you go back to Heaven?" She stopped before him, a shirt clutched in her hands like a lifeline. "If you had the chance, if there were no war, wouldn't you go back?"

He frowned. Shifted. "Once I would have said yes."

Her eyes narrowed. "Once?"

He lifted his arms in a helpless shrug. "Things change, Meg. Even angels. Now I have ties here." His voice went low and quiet. "I thought you did as well."

"Oh, fuck you, Clarence!" She tossed the shirt at him, an ineffectual missile, and spun away, arms crossed over her chest. Her small form vibrated fury, and he stood staring at her back, nonplussed.

"Meg—"

"No!" She threw up a hand to stop him. "Just no. You should leave now."

He took a step toward her. "If returning to Hell would truly make you happy, then go. But you should know that I would miss you deeply. More, even, than you probably suspect. Also know that I would worry constantly for your safety."

"My safety?" she scoffed. "Crowley's dead, Clarence. You burned his bones. What is there for me to worry about now?"

He was glad, in that moment, she wasn't looking at him. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Hell might have been your home once, but it isn't anymore. You belong here."

"Here," she said in a choking, scornful voice. "On Earth! Fucking Earth, so cold and damp and…and…flat!"

"Here with me, Meg," he said, soft and simple.

She let out a strangled sound that might, from anyone else, have been a sob. From her it was possibly a laugh, cynical and barbed. He closed the distance between them and turned her around. When she wouldn't look at him, he kissed the top of her head and folded her against him. She shoved at him, but he ignored her.

"Stop," he said. "Just stop."

"You're misunderstanding the terms again," she said, but with less heat than before.

He looked down at her, head tilted and midnight eyes fathomless. "Then I think we need to redefine them."

There was a whisper of wings and they were on the bed. She glared, but he hushed her again and pulled her to him.

"You are not getting laid after that bullshit, Clarence," she muttered.

He ran a hand through her hair, combing the dark waves smooth in the way that always soothed her. His other hand rubbed a circle against the small of her back, and he sent tiny threads of his Grace, just enough to warm her without causing pain, into her vessel. "You don't always have to fight so hard, Meg."

She shifted against him and fought the urge to purr. "I'm a demon, featherbrain," she said, her voice going hazy as his hands worked their magic. "I'm created to fight."

"I know." He sounded amused.

She rested her nose in the hollow of his throat and took a long breath of his scent. Slid an arm beneath his jackets to wrap around his body. Their legs tangled together.

"I miss it, that's all. Things are simpler there. I know who I am there."

"Yes." He trailed his fingers down her neck. "That's how it used to be for me, too, in Heaven. Before the Winchesters."

"Before you came down here, you mean. Before you started thinking for yourself."

A small silence. Then, "Yes."

She craned her neck to look up at him. His expression was troubled, his eyes a storm. "Do you regret it?"

He stilled. "I regret…this war. I do not regret…free will." His gaze flicked to her. A smile touched his mouth. "There are other things I don't regret, as well."

"Right," she said, a wry twist to her lips. "Cheeseburgers. Cookies. Porn."

He kissed her, flicking his tongue against hers. "Cinnamon. Peaches."

"Hum," she said, doubtfully. She nestled her forehead against the side of his neck and let out a soft sigh. Tugged the shirt from the waistband of his pants, frustrated by the cotton barrier between her hand and his skin. "I'm still really fucking pissed at you," she said after a time.

"I've no doubt."

"As long as we're clear," she murmured.

He said nothing, and peace stole over them on sneaking cat's feet. He held her and she wrapped herself around him and the two unlikeliest beings in Creation knew contentment, together.