For @a-mess-of-many-fandoms who gave me the prompt, and who's awesome.
*
For all they've been through, for all Dean's ever thought - it's really very simple, in the very end.
"Dean!" Cas grips Dean's forearm with his left hand, pulling him back to prevent the stumble, voice frantic enough for Dean to whip his head towards him, incredulously.
It was a pebble.
"Cas," Dean cannot help the grin, even though it's one of exasperation. "The most which could've happened was that I'd fall on my face, and then you'd help me up, and we'd keep walking."
Cas glared at Dean, as if offended by the latter's grin. "So, because 'falling on your face' causes only minor injury, it's acceptable, you'll do it as often as there's a chance?" Cas throws back at him, a flicker of animation on his features.
"We've stopped Apocalypses, Cas, so yeah, I think I'll survive a couple of pebbles." Dean smiles, and it's softer, because this is Cas. The guy who doesn't need to sleep, so he feeds cats all night. The guy who eats the bacon Dean cooks even though he doesn't need it to survive, and talks about bees and the Bible, and suddenly Oscar Wilde. The guy who's died enough times for the World to be safe, but worries if Dean Winchester stumbles on a pebble.
He can't help the trail of thoughts, which spark off at these little gestures of the angel. He doesn't want to. It makes him happy in a unique way, and why can't he just leave it at that?
They walk on, perhaps a bit too close, perhaps too little.
Cas drops the tone, the next time he speaks. He doesn't move his hands while he does, but his eyes tell most of the tale. "You're not very good at walking, Dean."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It's just that," Cas smiles, knowing it's a musing laced with humor. "Your eyes are constantly turned up towards the sky, Dean. It's like they must wander when your mind wonders." Cas pauses. "Hence, incidents with pebbles occur."
"Yeah, that was a real encounter." Dean scoffs, before rolling his eyes at Cas, and pausing at the sky, like Cas just said. Maybe he was right. "And, well, the sky's prettier, anyways."
"Than the Earth?" Cas prompted. "Do you really suggest, that the bland, cloud-speckled sky is any match for the hues of the ground? The brown, the gold, the beautiful green." He turned to Dean, and since neither of them care nought for distance - their faces are too close, when he does. "I once flew in the skies, Dean, but I prefer this. Not without good reason." And maybe he looks at Dean, a little too long, just enough for the words to be a euphemism - if not a metaphor.
"I like the blue." Dean said, easy and comfortable. A familiar voice. A blink of an eye, and maybe Cas smiles.
"That may be, because you have your eyes on the road, for too many hours a day." Cas suggested. His eyes are so wonderfully captivating, and wrenching his eyes away was never something Dean learned to do.
"Yeah." Dean pauses, but he doesn't know why he does it. "Don't get to see enough of the sky, from under Baby's roof, do I?"
Cas nods, empathic and open, and they walk some more.
The park is not empty, it's far from noiseless, but it hardly matters. It's just the two of them, if you asked either. It's just Dean's uneven breathing - because words are surfacing, and a surprising courage accompanies them - and it's just Cas's serene glances, his mellow baritone, and his small smiles that Dean's treated to. It's just them, and it's everything, and maybe it's enough, and maybe it'll happen.
"You know, what else?" Dean says. "You say, I can't walk, but I guess I like to. Driving's a dream, and Baby's perfect, but it needs attention."
"And, it distracts you from the conversations?" Cas adds. "From your thoughts? From the views?"
"Yeah, but distracts me from you, too."
And Dean turns his head again, and meets blue eyes, and he drinks Cas in, because he can - and there's no part of his attention on the brakes, or the road, or the hunt, or the gears. It's all on Cas, the way he likes best.
Dean has no idea how he finally saying it. But it's so easy, and it's so simple, and it's right there, and suddenly, he must say it. "This way, I've got nothing else on my mind." But you.
Cas doesn't exactly reply with his words. He continues to stare back at Dean, and it's content that Dean finds reflecting in his eyes - but, whose heart it shines from, he can't say.
But there, he's said it.
There's hardly any panic, and there's hardly any worry. There's just Cas, and there's the way he looks at him, and there's the way he smiles, and that's about all he needs.
"Walking means I get to look at you, good." Dean almost whispers, because he doesn't really need to be louder, since Cas is right there. "And," Dean cannot think of what he's saying right now, he just is. It's baseless, but he does it anyways. "While we're on the topic of comparing the two -"
"Driving and walking?" Cas mouths.
"Yeah, them." Dean says. How is it this easy? How has he resisted it this long? How did he have it in himself? "I also don't know what to do with my hands when we walk, you know."
He half-heartedly shrugs, and he knows it's a baseless thing to say, but he did it, so he might as well keep going.
"There's no wheel, there's no gearstick, there's no window. What am I even supposed to hold?" Dean attempts at a smile, and it comes easier than he thought. Of course, it does.
"How about this?" Cas says, soft and secretive, and just like that, Dean has a hand in his. Fingers link, palms press against each other, and they're standing even closer now, that their wrists are brushing.
"Yeah, no, why didn't I think of that?" Dean lets out, thoughtlessly, stroking the back of Castiel's hand with his thumb, gentle and slow.
And just like that, they're holding hands. And talking of the blue skies and the green Earth. Of flying, and driving. As they walk.
It's a date. It's a flirtation. It's suddenly a romance.
So I have this hc that when dean and cas are doing their whole staring-at-each-other-for-far-too-long thing, that cas is actually communicating with dean telepathically. He only does this with dean, and dean secretly likes that it’s their own special thing so doesn’t tell Sam. But when everyone else thinks they’re having eye-sex, they’re actually having their own private conversations. Feel free to write about this or not-no pressure either way❤️
HI, and first of all, I absolutely loved @xcaitlin-mayx 's headcannon, and was completely swept off my feet thinking of what direction I wanted to take ~ but then, uh, Life approached and I was thrown off my track. So, uh, I’m truly sorry for the really late answer ~ but I finally wrote something, and I really hope this is kind of what you had in mind, friend!
Edit: Posting this fic was a real task, because this is the third try, and it's finally ready. I'm sorry for the delay. And we need to thank the asker and @zoerayne2426 for their help in getting it here, after I lost it yesternight! Fic starts here:
***
Dean Winchester was pretty goddamn sure that he, Sam and Cas together were the best damn hunters in the World.
But not every hunt defines you as a hunter. Some days, you take out an entire coven of witches within a couple of days, or hunt down a century-old god, who had recently taken to being a dick.
Other days, a single vampire nest could take a long and tiring week, and you could still end up handcuffed to rusted barrels in an abandoned barn with your angel, trying to stall them from drinking you dead until your brother could figure out where the both of you were kidnapped to, and save the day.
“We aren’t giving Dean Winchester up in exchange for you, blue-eyes.” The apparent leader tossed her head, her attention completely taken by Cas. “Everybody knows you can’t sucking off an angel isn’t fun, right, gorgeous?” She added, in Dean’s general direction, making him want to knock her out even more than he already did.
If she wanted to make an innuendo, she didn’t even do that right.
“But that way, you’d at least have one of us.” Castiel reasoned, but Dean recognized his voice as insincere. At least he hoped. The plan was to waste time. Not give themselves over to dumb, evil bitches.
“What do you mean, right now, we have both of you?” She threw back.
“Not for long.” Dean spat, from his position on the ground. His hands were tied behind him, and he was unable to look up straight without the shooting pain at the back of his neck.
“If this is about Winchester XL, lemme just say, that he’s not coming to save you anytime soon.” She smirked.
Dean saw red, instantly. “Listen here, you -”
“Come on, Ken, you stay here with these two. I’m going to go take a look at the others,” She commanded, and the guy walked over in Cas’s general region, the proximity uncomfortable, as he waited wordlessly with his eyes on Dean, and his hand on the iron pole to which Castiel was tied - they had angel cuffs tying his wrists to chains and their bulkiest vampire assigned to the task, while Dean had been simply punched until he was rendered the equivalent of a sack of swearing potatoes and cuffed on the stone cold floor. It wasn’t exactly fair.
Moreover, the new guy didn’t look like he’d take any of their shit if they tried to negotiate him into a get-out-of-jail-alive card, and who was content enough to be a breathing stone pillar as he was told to be.
Oh, curse God for villains who didn’t monologue or had ambitions.
Listen!
A voice suddenly hissed at him, though he couldn’t hear it, and he raised his head harshly enough to get whiplash. He let it fall once more.
What was Dean’s conscience trying to tell him, right now? (Don't get caught by demons the next time, or you end up with a helluva crick in your neck?)
Dean!
The voice in Dean’s head usually used less flattering curse words for him. It didn’t call him Dean.
We can get out of here! Dean! Can you hear me?
Wait a fucking minute, this sounded like Cas.
And not in the my-family-is-my-voice-of-reason sense. Not even in the angel-on-my-shoulder sense.
Dean could, honest to god, hear Castiel’s voice in his head. It was not quite Jimmy’s voice though, it was all in all Cas! How Dean could tell them apart, he had no speck of an idea.
But - how?
You can hear me, can’t you?
Dean painstakingly raised his head to meet the angel’s eyes. Ken, or whatever his name was, wasn’t looking at Dean anymore, he was looking at Cas. Cas, on the other hand, had his eyes focused on Dean for sure.
Dean nodded, in response to the question from before.
Is it really you? He thought real hard, and saw Cas wince a little bit.
You don’t need to shout! We’ve already established that the connection is stable. And of course, it IS me.
Dean could feel his head whirring towards a more paranoid headache.
What connection, what the fuck is even happening? How are you doing this? He breathed.
Cas gave him a glare, that looked awfully like, that’s not a priority, though Dean didn’t hear it ring through his brain.
Dean. Listen to me. When these vampires were disarming me, I made sure to push my angel blade away. It’s got to be somewhere near you. You need to get it.
Dean instantly began to fumble around, clumsily. The vamp in the room turned sharply to him.
“Just an itch.” Dean excused, before going very still. This time, his eyes didn’t leave Dean. He still held onto Castiel’s iron chains.
Dean looked down at himself, to avoid eye contact. Are you sure it’s somewhere behind me?
There was no response.
No voices at all.
Dean looked up again, and suddenly Cas’s voice came in again. You need to keep looking into my eyes.
An involuntary heat rushed up Dean’s throat. He suddenly paid an extraordinary amount of attention to the blue, blue eyes of his friend. Castiel went on. I’m not an archangel, only they can communicate without it.
Dean swallowed, and forced a smile at the big lug who still glared at Dean, before he met Castiel’s eyes again. He was careful to not be expressive. Cas had it easy, he rarely looked like he meant something he said, or thought. He repeated himself. Are you sure it’s behind me?
No. Followed by a distinct, But you need to look. It's our only chance.
Dean almost nodded but remembered that the vampire still had his eyes on him, so stressed out an Okay.
Don’t scream your affirmations in my head, please. Castiel deadpanned, even his voice adorning a very Cas-like tone. Dean felt the twitch of a smile.
He began to look, much more subtle this time.
I’ve got it. He thought softly, before realizing he didn’t need to whisper in this - whatever the hell this kind of communication network was.
Use it.
Castiel didn’t even have to think it at him, his eyes did the job. A single touch of the blade to the ropes had them loosening. Hopefully not melting, though, but Dean couldn’t turn his head to see. Angel blades were apparently multi-utility tools.
Once the ropes were severed, it was Dean Winchester’s turn to shine. Ken got an elbow in the face, and a kick in the shin before Dean began to cut off Castiel’s chains, and when Ken showed up again and had Dean in a surprise headlock - what an ideal villain - Dean stabbed him with the blade, and deftly cut his throat off.
The tale of how the hunter and his angel, freshly freed and armed, got from there to the motel room, was one which has been told several times.
***
Sam was very much asleep when Dean and Castiel had time to talk, Castiel had healed him but he had bled out a lot, and Dean’s insistence that he take some rest, had resulted in sam beginning to use his laptop whilst on his bed - and soon slumping off to sleep, with it’s screen still lit.
Dean later shut down the computer, while Castiel pulled the sheets over his legs.
Being a hunter had very few perks, but it had several drawbacks, such as having to go out of the small room to have a serious conversation - lest you risk waking up your brother who, as all hunters, was prone to light sleep.
Dean almost pulled Castiel outside, and deciding that talking outside the door would be ridiculous, so they walked all the way outside the motel. Dean leaned against the impala, and Castiel stood straight and watched him.
At the moment, it had been easy enough to get over the realization, that he and castiel were communicating through thoughts. There was pain, and there was danger - and there was the factor of time.
Now under the starlit sky, it was just Dean and Cas, and like hell, there weren’t questions.
“Okay,” he breathed out. “What the hell was that, back in the barn? With the-” His eyes were wide with shock, when he met Castiel’s again. “With the goddamn mind reading, Cas!”
“I..” Castiel didn’t sound as sure as Dean would’ve assumed he was going to. “I just tried something. And it worked.”
“What did you try?” Dean pursed his lips.
“To see if I could tell you something,” Castiel was still uncertain how he would explain something like this to Dean. “Without saying it aloud.”
“Yeah, well, your dick-ish brothers and sisters have gotten into my head often enough,” Dean snapped. “This was different. I was in control too! I could send things back that route through!”
“I agree,” Cas nodded. “It was like a telepathic connection.”
“I’m not.. Psychic or whatever, Cas! I can’t do this shit, eye contact or not!” Dean recalled.
“Dean.” Castiel sounded more firm. “It was a moment of distress. Those vampires would’ve turned you, and found the blade soon enough to kill me too. And I felt like - there was something I could do.”
“Just like that?” Dean was quieter.
“It was like a string, within reachable distance, and I strained my grace to get to it. And I could pull it. So I did, and..and you picked it up then, by looking into my eyes.” It was as if Castiel was explaining it to himself too, not just to Dean.
“I don’t know how I ‘picked’ anything up.” Dean wondered aloud. Helpless. “I don’t it know how it worked, at all-”
“Dean” Castiel suddenly walked towards him. There was only a foot of distance between their chests, and Castiel blinked clearly at him. “Look at me.”
Dean hesitantly raised his eyes from the ground, and felt them flicker all over Cas’s features. He was embarrassed, because Cas may be dense in general, but anyone would understand if a dude’s eyes kept flitting back to your lips, right? Rigidly, Dean made himself focus on Cas’s eyes. They were ocean blue in the sun, but tinted with the grey of the late evening right now. It was certainly not the first time Dean noticed the angel’s eyes. “I am.”
“Would you… could you really look into my eyes?” Castiel asked, he sounded so sincere, that Dean didn’t have it in himself to make a lewd joke.
He simply obeyed, letting himself drown in the black pupils, not letting his sight wander past the beautiful hues of the iris, or-
Dean!
Dean blinked suddenly, and Castiel clasped his bicep with his right hand, to make him focus. His eyes sought all of Dean's attention.
Dean?
So now, this is apparently a thing. Dean thought, and somehow it was enough. We’re telepathy buddies, who think into each other’s heads.
For a long moment, Cas simply looked into his eyes. But Dean didn’t hear anything from him. There was a pleasant silence of all of Cas’s attention on him.
It was when Dean began to wonder if the connection had broke, or if Dean was suddenly incapable of hearing Cas’s thoughts anymore, that a small, mellow voice he hardly recognized as Cas came floating through the front of his brain.
It was unsure, and almost a little timid. Maybe even sad. It wasn't what Dean expected.
Is this so bad?
Of course it wasn’t, who was he kidding? But Cas’s face had crumbled into an apologetic look, though his eyes stayed focused on Dean’s- and Dean understood that not everything he thought was audible to Cas. It was - it was perfectly under his control too!
However, that meant that Cas believed that Dean hated this- except the truth was far from it. It was unbelievable, yes; but this was Cas. It wasn’t - it couldn’t be… bad. Dean suddenly wondered how much of his thoughts were audible to Cas, not quite having a good hold on it yet.
I never said that. Dean swallowed, as if testing waters. It’s weird, not gonna lie, but it isn't exhausting, and it could be helpful. And okay, maybe it could be fun-ishh too.
Castiel smiled a bit, and his eyes suddenly seemed to light up literally, and a wave floated through the ‘string’ apparently, uplifting Dean’s spirits too. He smiled too, realizing that he’d never seen Cas smile, this real and beautiful, up close.
And then he suddenly stopped smiling, realizing that he’d never seen Cas smile, this real and beautiful, this up close, and that had just made him smile.
Whoa, Winchester - bring it down a notch. He looked away, almost on instinct, a heat crawling up his neck.
“This is gonna need some getting used to,” Dean declared, putting his own hand on Castiel’s shoulder - because apparently two grown men staring deeply into each other’s eyes in the parking lot of a cheap motel, wasn’t inappropriate enough to be considered gay, with only one of them touching the other.
(If someone were doing a commentary on Dean’s life, they’d need to pepper in the fact of how the oldest Winchester was truly prone to being a helping hand to bring about situations which embarrassed him infinitely, in the confines of his own head, later.)
Dean pulled off his hand, almost that very next moment, and turned away from him, towards Baby. Thinking. There was so much to think about.
“Can I tell you something?” Castiel spoke up, his voice ever so thoughtful. “This is not… the first time I saw this. Angels can do it, angels who were raised together, who have fought together. Archangels find it simple. But seraphs like us?” He sighed. “Uriel had recently discovered we were able to do it, just a few decades back, but we tried it rarely, and now he..”
“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean meant it, and he bit his lip. “But, what about me? I wasn’t - I’m not him, and I wasn’t raised with you, angel.” It didn’t strike him that he’d just called Castiel angel until sufficiently later, half-asleep in bed and replaying the conversation, and it was a miracle that he didn’t panic out of sight when it happened.
“I’ve never seen this before,” Castiel spoke, after a pause. “But there were stories. Of humans being able to do this, rarely. Very rarely.”
“What did I do -?” Dean stopped, not saying ‘wrong’, because Cas would probably not understand he meant it as a joke. And not saying ‘right’ either, because that wasn’t something he’s say out loud.
“It wasn’t something you did. I do not know why it happened for you and me, Dean. But,” Castiel stared at him keenly. Dean looked back at his eyes, and once again, he could feel them relapsing into their own bubble, where words didn’t need to be uttered to be understood. It was kind of fascinating.
Castiel paused, as if testing the string again, or maybe just wondering how to say it. When he finally does, his voice trembles a bit. And he’s searching in Dean’s eyes, some sort of reassurance; involuntarily.
I have heard it happens for those who are bonded.
Dean was suddenly grateful that Cas didn’t say that out loud, because Dean would have been absolutely incapable of responding with anything at all. But since this was just between them, there were only traces of a boundary, yet no intrusion- Dean felt the courage to think distinctly.
Then maybe you do know why it happened for us.
*
That's why, when Cas throws the 'profound bond' line at Sam, Dean instantly panicked. Castiel met his eyes, sending a, What's the matter?
Dean could only scoff his denial out loud, and glare a Not in front of my brother, jackass, into Castiel's irritatingly blue eyes.
*
In his defense, Dean doesn’t know how long Sam has been noticing it. But it’s got to be in the middle of a fight that he calls them out on it. It’s the middle of the goddamn showdown of the hunt. It’s the Winchesters and Castiel against dozens of demons; the angel whirred around, killing plenty, with expertise and his bright blade; Sam was exorcising loudly, from memory, as he fought off more demons using Ruby’s knife, and Dean shot at all the monsters in between.
When Dean gets a spare second - the Winchesters look like they’ve almost already won, and most demons are fighting to lose now - he whips his head in Cas’s direction. The latter is always majestic when he’s in his element, a glorious warrior.
Dean watches Cas flung a demon over, and pin him to the ground with a flourish, extracting a dying gasp as Castiel lands next to him with a palm on his sternum, displaying strength that should’ve been impossible; and Dean gapes. As if on cue, Castiel turns to face him, and there’s a triumphant spark in his eyes, and a smirk dangling tangent from the corner of his lips. It’s an absolute scene to die for, and he doesn’t look past Dean.
Dean. Castiel suddenly speaks, directly into Dean’s nerves.
That was so cool! You flipped him midair, it was something else, dude! Whoa! Dean lets out, in a hurry.
Castiel’s eyes don’t leave Dean’s, but they crinkle into a smile. You have blood in your hair.
I could do with a compliment too, but sure, worry more about my hair, why don’t you? Dean runs a hand violently through his hair, to get it off.
You’re an excellent fighter, and you know it. The fact that there was dry blood in your hair was something that you didn’t know, so I mentioned it. Castiel almost teased, and it stunned Dean how natural it felt suddenly. To have the voice of an angel echoing through his head, delivering lines in a deadpan. All while he got to stare into those fantastic baby blues, which starred in more dreams than Dean appreciated.
Come to think of it, Dean had no idea what he looked like, right now. Frozen in the middle of a fight scene, with eyes locked with Castiel’s, and no will to look away. His jaw basically hung, rapt in attention.
Don’t be that way. Dean sent back. Listen. Will you stay after the hunt tonight, Cas?
Do you need me to? Instantly resonated.
Once again, Dean surprised himself. But he was also beginning to realize that he could be both spontaneous and brave, when it came to saying the stuff he wanted to, when they communicated this way. Dean proposed, swiftly.
Nah, I was just thinking. If you were living with us tonight, we could make plans, you know - maybe a movie, some classic, of course; or maybe burgers and -
DEAN! Turn around, and SHOOT! HE’S BEHIND YOU!
Dean spun around as fast as he could, following thoughtlessly and firing away. His thoughts returned to him slower, still stuck on the way Cas’s eyes widened with sheer worry, when they saw Dean was in danger. Before he could think ahead, the body of an armed demon dropped at his feet, with a bullet in his head.
Castiel had sounded terrified for his sake, eyes suddenly wide and his booming baritone piercing through Dean’s bodily systems to make his muscles move just right. Never had Castiel’s voice overpowered all of his senses again - not once, after that one time in the abandoned shack, after the former raised him from hell.
”…Dean!“ Came Sam’s voice, trailing closer, and it was as if he’d been yelling for long - though Dean could only hear it now. "Are you okay!?”
“Yeah,” Dean touched the corpse with his boot. “Just peachy.” Their surroundings were silent, and all the demons had been killed. Sam ran towards him, frantic, and stopped as he began to yell, harshly clutching his brother’s shoulder, to get himself back together.
“You - you idiot! Both of you! Well, if you hadn’t been staring at each other’s mugs,” He declared, turning his head to include Castiel in his reprimand. “You’d have seen the demon coming sooner!”
Dean swallowed, suddenly overcome with the realization of what it looked like, each time they did it. Fuck. He hadn’t been thinking.
Sam wasn’t done yet. He’d been keeping it in for too long. “What is up with you, Dean!? I would think you got enough of looking at each other from what you keep doing, all frigging day!” It was as if Sam had taken the panic he felt at seeing his brother almost killed, and combined it with the frustration piling since almost a fortnight now into a mound of anger, that he shoved in their faces. “I mean - it doesn’t matter to me, you do you and be happy being yourself - but at least put the pining away when you’re in the middle of a fight!”
“It’s not pining, what the fuck do you mean?” Dean objected indignantly. “It is -” And he suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He looked at Castiel, but the angel was looking at the ground, almost as if he believed he was responsible for Dean’s almost-murder - while clearly he was the reason Dean was still alive!
Dean commenced on a trail of thoughts himself.
Didn’t Sam know at all? Well, should he? Did he really need to?
Okay, if he thought about it, probably not.
It wasn’t about this being a Dean-and-Cas thing. No. It wasn’t about that at all, that’d be ridiculous. It was plain and simple about keeping Sam from being a smartass about it, for forever later.
So that settled it.
Sam didn't need to know.
Were you telling me something? Castiel suddenly popped up in his head, sounding grave.
I was trying to think something at you, but never mind, Dean got swept up in the feeling of replying to the angel through his thoughts, feeling himself put every emotion through a channel to get to him, to remember that Sam was still right there -
“Oh, there you go again!” Sam whined, before beginning to storm away. “Don’t try to stop me from driving away in your car, Dean! You can just keep staring,” He snarked. “And try to get it out of your system before you return to the motel!”
Castiel walked to Dean, slowly, once Sam had left, leaving his rant in the middle. “Your brother -” He began.
“Obviously you don’t do this with him, because he has no idea,” Dean remarked, if he didn’t already know.
“It isn’t intentional.” Castiel defended.
Dean nodded. He walked a few steps on the path where his brother had marched off, seconds before. He knew Sammy - and knew that that was just an outburst for no reason but venting the sudden adrenaline, and he was just being the regular prissy cares-for-Dean’s-life bitch, he’s always been trying to be. It didn’t bother him as much as it would’ve, if Sam knew about the ‘bond’; especially what Dean thought of it as, inwardly.
Castiel blinked, bringing him back to the present. “But, Dean? What does Sam think, then? What do we do, when we look at each other’s eyes?”
“…uh, just look, I- I guess.” Dean stammered, fidgety. “It’s not a big deal, c'mon, let’s get back to Baby before the kid actually leaves. And hey, uh, about the heads-up about the demon, back then? I didn’t get ganked totally because of you, so - thanks.” Castiel looked at him like he didn’t make sense, which was pretty unfair, because he totally did, right? He was being extremely clear about all of this. Was dealing with all his new feelings like a pro.
He’d obviously been giving off the vibe, that meant that Dean was completely over the freak out phase associated with the fact that what their telepathic crap meant was that they were ‘bonded’ - or whatever, who cares - and was only attached to what that meant for him ~ that Cas could hear Dean’s thoughts and he had a choice to not let him, but he did let him, so that was supposed to mean something - and he saved Dean’s life almost periodically at this point, so that was another perk of having him around, except for the fact that he got to look into his eyes - and Dean was going to keep this entire complicated thing from his brother, as if it were his overdue gay panic, to be later referred to as a mid-life (sexuality) crisis.
Okay. Maybe it was the opposite of out in the open.
But perhaps Dean could ask Cas to look into his eyes, and go over these (that were so hard to actually say out loud) again, because yeah, that was a thing that they did now.
Dean Winchester had a weird life, and he was extremely happy to be living it right now, as Cas blinked at him and said, “Of course, Dean, always,” in response to the thanking, and followed him out of the room where they’d just killed an entire troop of demons and saved the state of Kansas, and as Dean plotted to push Sam right of the driver’s seat, and mentally made a note to start paying more attention to the setting before he starts staring at Cas. Apparently.
~~~
And that’s it! I know it’s an abrupt-ish end. but will you be fine if I post editions of this, separately? There’s an angsty one, with mentions of Purgatory, Naomi and Steve - and there’s probably also a crack one, with shipper!Sam, shipper!Charlie and shipper!Kevin, and some breakfast Destiel. Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this fic, and am so glad you sent me that headcannon, Caitlin!
Here’s my taglist for Destiel, and though this is pretty general, I guess it counts: @all-or-nothing-baby @petrichoravellichor @adventurous-blob @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @legendary-destiel @ladywaywarddsc @styggtroll @moderatelypanickedbisexual @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ctrl-alt-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms and @3dg310rdsupreme, uwu, Special Mention: @zoerayne2426
[Okay, so tumblr screwed up, hence I lost the text of this post. However, I had screenshotted it. So I'm just gonna post that. This also means I didn't get a chance to edit, so I'm sorry if it sucks. I wrote after pretty long, if that means something, and I'm really in love with college AUs, okay? Here, enjoy:]
Prompt by: @smodernlife : I just got caught in a rainstorm I should have been prepared for and now I'm loving the idea of Cas and Dean in a rainstorm and Cas refuses to share his umbrella and raincoat because "if you insist on making fun of my weather preparedness you shall suffer the consequences".
Except, this isn't a rainstorm. It's just rain.
***
"For fuck's sake, Cas," Dean groaned, glaring at his boyfriend, as the rain flattened his hair unbecomingly, as it bounced off of Cas's stupid Oscar-Wilde-quotes umbrella to hit Dean precisely on the head. "You're in a trenchcoat, and you have an umbrella." He sucked in a breath. "I have neither. Sharing is caring."
"Dean," Cas declared, definite and smug. "Despite what they taught us in preschool, sharing - at least, right now - is to spoil you by encouraging your deprecating sarcasm. Not making fun of my weather preparedness is caring."
"You're kidding, right?" Dean blinked, and raised his arms in annoyance. "I'm getting soaked, and you want to nag me for making fun of you, instead of being a gentleman and protecting my ass from the rain!"
"When the rain threatens to kidnap you and somehow doubles your student loans, I promise to intervene for the sake of your ass." Cas shot back, sure of mind. "And, by the way, hand over your phone and wallet."
Dean feigned shock. "You won't share your umbrella with me, and you're trying to mug me?"
"Your possessions shouldn't have to pay the price for your assholery towards my weather-cautious attitute," Cas elaborated, and pocketed the articles Dean handed over submissively. "So, I'll keep your things safe. You, on the other hand, are encouraged to get drenched in the rain, Dean."
"You're such a dick, why do you also have to be McWordy Worderson?" Dean whined, kicking a pebble, and continuing to walk - still getting drenched from the downpour, his clothes sticking to his skin.
"You calling me that just brought the already marginal chances of me giving in, down to nil." Cas stubbornly informed Dean, earning himself another ferocious roll of his eyes.
"Marginal, my ass." Dean muttered. "You were so not gonna give in yet. I know you, Cas, I've been dating your stubborn-frigging-ass for too long."
It was Castiel's turn to roll his eyes. They went on walking, Cas comfortably holding the umbrella over solely himself while Dean drudged along his side.
"By the way, would you be okay with me finishing my draft before we resume watching -" Cas had begun, perfectly casual, but Dean glared at him incredulously.
"What, you think you can just make conversation, right now?" He barked, at the slightly smirking man. "The least I can do to retaliate is take away your privilege of getting to talk with me."
"You're not supposed to retaliate to my retaliation, you're supposed to learn a lesson." Cas informed Dean, pursing his lips.
"Oh, is the lesson going to be that death from pneumonia is painful as fuck?" Dean mocked.
"I have faith in your immune system, Dean." Cas simply replied, looking utterly pleased with his boyfriend's predicament.
Dean huffed.
"And what about the fact that I'm wet and getting wetter by the second, honey?" He egged on.
"I like the sound of it." Cas deadpanned.
"Cas, you dirty sonuvabitch," Dean couldn't resist. "But I didn't mean for you," He teased. "What about the girls who're gonna see me all drenched and faux-naked and alone, since clearly if I were walking with my boyfriend who has an umbrella, I wouldn't be in this state, and what if they offer me a ride or their coats or -"
"I have an umbrella." Cas stopped him. "And I won't hesitate to use it."
"You can use that thing to poke away kind, helpful chicks who approach me, but not to provide me shelter?" Dean protested.
"Exactly." Cas agreed, unperturbed.
"That's it." Dean grumbled. "I'm not talking to you."
Cas gave him a look. "You propose we walk home in silence?"
Dean, true to his word, didn't reply. He took a longer step than usual to cross a puddle, and focussed his attention on the ground solely.
"Alright." Cas said, partially annoyed. "Let's not."
There was silence for barely a moment before Dean spoke up again.
"Where's the fun in me bitching about you, if you're not here to listen to it?" He declared.
Cas nodded.
"And, for the record, I propose that we walk closer - near enough to share the umbrella and then I propose you kiss me under it." Dean crossed his arms on his chest, a drenched mess now. A stray droplet landed on his forehead, and trickled down the left of his face.
Cas narrowed his eyes.
"Don't you try to be -"
"What? That wasn't seductive or anything." Dean excused himself before he'd even been accused. "You mind me being a cliche lover of romantic tropes, now?"
"No, I like that fairly." Cas scoffed. And then, on a seemingly unrelated note, he went on. "You know, you haven't even apologized yet." Cas finally admitted
"What for?"
Cas gave him the universal in-a-relationship look for If I have to tell you, you don't deserve to know.
"Is this still about the stupid weather forecast thing in the morning?" Dean knitted his eyebrows together in a frown. "Or, are you projecting? Is this a bigger issue? A larger dick move on my part?"
A car zoomed past them. Dean got splashed, and swore at it. Cas was already speaking.
"No, this isn't something big. The 'stupid weather forecast thing' is all this is about." Cas sounded offended. "It's that small. If something is of the slightest import to me, you cannot - you can't just up and diss it, Dean."
"Oh -"
"I don't enjoy being mocked. And it isn't as if I was cancelling a wedding because my horoscope said so. I was carrying an umbrella because the news said it'd rain. Meteorology is a science."
Dean was taken aback. There was silence for a while.
"Can I just say that I honestly didn't know it meant a single thing? If I was a jerk, which I bet I was, now that I think of it - I'm sorry. Won't happen again. I didn't mean it like that." He finally uttered, in a rush, sounding embarrassed, and genuinely sincere.
"I know, Dean," Cas nodded. "That's why I'm not 'mad' mad."
"You're stuck in the 'passive-aggressive' mad zone." Dean helped.
"Just like you're eternally stuck in the not-exactly-but-somehow-an-assbutt mode." Cas served back, continuing to walk.
"Exactly like that, yeah." Dean grinned, the temporary drop and the tension resolved. "Hey, so, that being said and sorted..?"
"I suppose we could follow through with before mentioned kiss in the rain." Cas was being a little shit on purpose, Dean recognized the humor in his tone, and leaned in nonetheless.
Just as Dean was close enough to be sheltered by the umbrella, he was close enough to be pulled right up against Cas. With a hand on his back, almost against his skin through the layers of fabric, Cas shuddered, and almost pulled back. "Whoa, you're soaked."
"You're the one doing laundry," Dean retorted. "I'm gonna stink of rain."
"Rain doesn't -" Cas pulled back to say, but Dean closed the gap, putting one damp palm on Cas's face, to position them correctly. Their lips fit against each other familiarly, soft brushes and swirling tongues, and Cas held the umbrella over them as Dean held them together.
"You're more handsy than usual." Cas laughed, pulling away, his face almost as wet as Dean's, because Dean had made it a point to touch.
"What do you mean - I'm always into you, sweetheart." Dean winked, mischievously.
"You haven't found my forehead worthy of your attention in quite a while." Cas explained, smiling as well.
"That's a lie, I think you've got a really sexy one." Dean laughed, and Cas mirrored him. "You know, I had half a mind to pull away the umbrella and let you be the one getting drenched while you were caught up in the kiss. But," he dramatized. "It's like you held on to it on purpose. You have messed up priorities, Cas."
"I just anticipated it, because as you say, I know you, I've been dating you for too long. And, choosing to hold the umbrella over you was a one-time-thing, I promise." Cas told him, sliding an arm around his waist, wet or not. They resumed walking, and well, Cas' had always been a generous, forgiving spirit. He shared the umbrella, but kept it mostly over himself, because push comes to shove; two men, six foot tall and enough wide, cannot really share an umbrella that well.
*
The next time, Dean doesn't laugh at Cas for taking an umbrella and his coat on a sunny day, but it turns out to be one of the brightest days of the year.
The one after that, lesson forgotten, Dean has to actually walk the whole ten blocks home in the rain, while Cas doesn't deter from his promise to not share his Oscar Wilde quotes umbrella at all, even when Dean - admittedly adorably - swallows raindrops and tries to be endearing while skipping over a pothole. Castiel is a man of his words, with an awfully cute boyfriend.
***
Taglist alert: @ctrl-alt-destiel @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @moderatelypanickedbisexual @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ladywaywarddsc I'm really sorry for the super-late fic, dear taglist! It's been a weird-ass month. Sadly enough, I dunno when the next one will be, though I'm constantly thinking up stuff :( Anyways, do leave a note, and maybe some words. Thank you for reading. Have an awesome day!
Edit: I realize the plot is kinda all about the place and doesn't make much sense now that I got it pointed out to me, but I'm gonna keep it posted just so because I need to get back to Trig. Just ~ if you don't like it, please don't read. I wrote after very long and I'm sorry if it sucks. Hope you smile.
Who was that even directed to? Castiel? Or the infant in his arms?
Castiel continued to cradle the baby, bouncing slightly as he shifted weight from one hip to the other, to an inaudible rhythm. Gia, Nora's daughter, and his charge for the night, cried, unaffected by his many efforts to make her stop.
Why isn't she calming down!? Could something be wrong?
Castiel had just changed her diaper, and they'd already had dinner, and Gia had been enthusiastic about the mush-up Nora had left behind with instructions.
The day wasn't too cold, and it wasn't too hot. She seemed fine before, too - though the pink of her cheeks now was probably to be attributed to the continuous crying, rather than good health.
Shouldn't get tensed around the baby, Cas. Shouldn't, at all.
But, sweaty and exhausted, as Castiel sighed nervously at the infant in his arms - he knew he wasn't abiding by the commands given by the voice of reason, in his head. How could he not worry? The baby just wouldn't sleep - he'd tried all, from singing, to talking to her, and was back to bouncing on his heels. It was clearly his prime failure as a babysitter, not to mention, it incessantly worried him that something was not right.
Shouldn't get tensed! Everything is fine! You just suck at making her go to sleep! Stop worrying - the baby will sense it, and not stop crying! Don't get tensed!
How could he not?
Think about something else!
And this time, Castiel listened - hurriedly escaping to one of his favorite avenues of thought - Dean Winchester. The man who was perhaps the most perfect part of his life, somehow, his boyfriend too.
It was always surreal thinking of that, but god, Castiel loved the sheer joy which surged through him on thinking of Dean Winchester.
Maybe it's working! The baby just stopped fidgeting!
Okay, then. More thinking of Dean. Huh. Not gonna be a problem.
Of course, there was a certain smidge of worry associated with Dean too, these days. The 18-year-old may have been a Senior, like Castiel - but he worked a helluva lot more. While all the work Castiel did, was things that could earn him credit on college applications - Dean Winchester, son of John Winchester, worked to earn, for himself and his brother. More so, than usual - because John had disappeared again, and his brother was about to start highschool, and that meant a lot more spending, and Castiel knew that Dean held himself responsible for everything Sam Winchester related.
So, Castiel may babysit, because Nora's friends with his dad, but Dean had a variety of jobs, and had 14 hour days, most days of the month and it sucked, in all regards.
The baby may have stopped crying, but you're beginning to get tensed again, and you know what happens then!
Babysitting was not simply a favor. It was an entire psychological enigma, and a challenge of emotions, complete with the threat of the baby crying for what seems like forever if you're responsible for her, if he deflected from his mission.
Okay, then. Not-worrying things about Dean. There were plenty of those, too. He could think of their kisses, the really soft ones, and the against-the-wall ones - that one time in the cafeteria as a gesturical-middle-finger to the homophobic cheerleader, and all of those sneaky, silent ones, which probably he liked best.
But again, 'kissing his boyfriend' wasn't exactly the kind of thinking he needed to be doing, with a silent, sniffling baby in his arms.
Wait. She's gone silent. She's almost still.
"Is Gia sleepy?" He cooed to her, hopefully.
She gurgled incoherently in response, but no. That meant yes, Castiel was pretty sure. Also, his arms were tired for now, and he could just put her in her cradle for once - if need be, he'd pick her up again and do the bounce-her-around-while-thinking-of-Dean thing, he may be good at, considering it brought such a quick result.
"So, I'm gonna put you to bed, okay?" He continued to tell her exactly what he was doing, in his most calming baby-voice, trying hard to keep her as still and probably asleep, as she was. "And Gia's going to go to sleep, right? And Cas will sit down, and hope Gia stays asleep, won't he? And you're going to sleep real nice, alright? G'night, Gia, and sweet dreams, okay?" He finished tucking her in, pulling the little blanket up to her neck, and letting out a sigh as he staggered backwards to the couch and landed with a soundless motion.
The baby-voice sucks - you think it means speaking in third person and adding question tags everywhere, but it's more than that. You do not know how to speak to a baby.
Whatever. Clearly, Gia didn't mind enough to wake up, so he didn't care.
Phew!
Just when Cas was about to bring out his phone, and maybe have a little time to himself - that meant texting Dean, mostly, even though Dean'd probably be too engaged to reply to Cas - the doorbell rang.
Cas glanced at the clock, and no, it wasn't time for Nora to have returned at all. Who else could it be?
He walked to the door, careful not to step too loud - babysitting is not child play, remember? - and looked through the eyehole.
"We didn't order any pizza -" He started, opening the door after catching glimpse of the person's hat.
"How about me, though?" And there was a toothy grin, followed by Dean lifting the hat from his face to meet Cas's eyes. "Any chance you ordered your really sexy boyfriend, with a side of he-fulfils-all-my-kinks?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Cas laughed, pleased to see Dean, as he always is. He pulled Dean into a one-armed hug, and Dean pressed his lips to Cas's neck, and a shudder went through him. "Dean." Cas warned, biting his lip, to keep from smiling too hard - because Dean was here, and kissing him wherever he was allowed, and it was one of the best moods he'd found him lately.
"What, I can't kiss you now?" Dean feigned taking offense. "After I show up here, like this, I don't even get to -"
And Dean may have kept on speaking, but Cas stopped listening.
The dots connected.
Jesus Christ.
The pizzaman and the babysitter. One of the most spectacular moments in their relationship had been when Dean discovered that Cas was watching porn next to him, as he finished up his calculus. It'd been closer to the start of their relationship. He'd looked at Cas like he made no sense, muttered something about not watching porn in a room with another guy, and kissed him silly. But Cas had had no idea he'd remembered.
"...I guess we can finally answer why the pizzaman kept slapping the babysitter's 'rear', though he truly loved her." Dean quoted, mockingly, and Cas broke into a chuckle. "Probably because even after the pizzaman came all the way to the other end of town for the babysitter, after a really long day of a lot of crap, the babysitter wouldn't even let him kiss his neck."
"How are you this great?" Cas mumbled, having run out of words.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, looking at his feet. "Nevermind all that, Cas. You tell me, how does it feel to be living your porn fantasy -"
"- its not, it just happened to be on -"
"- shuddup, I know this is your secret, wet dream material." Dean teased, leaning in. "But, tell me, though. How turned on are you on a scale from 0 to 10?"
"2, and I feel guilty." Cas threw back, still grinning so hard that it could've physically hurt his face. "I'm babysitting, Dean. And this isn't pornography, though you tried to make it like one and I love you for that, so I can't afford to forget about Gia."
Cas took half a step inside, and Dean looked visibly subdued.
"I -" He let out, in a small voice.
"You did not think this through..?" Cas helped, apologetic, and feeling disappointed himself. Because damn, Dean seemed to be in a total mood. And Cas was, after all, a human teenager in love with him.
"Yeah, no, of course not," Dean huffed. "I know, we can't have s-e-x around a baby."
Cas couldn't help reaching out and cupping Dean's face, and pulling it slightly down to comfortably fit their lips together. "That reminds me of Joey Tribbiani, and you're - awesome, Dean. I don't know, thanks for doing this."
"Though it sucked, in the end." Dean sighed, and suddenly, how tired he was began to be apparent. He was practically slumping, and there were clear dark circles under his eyes - way more prominent than they'd been in the day, at school.
"No, it didn't." Cas objected, furrowing his eyebrows. "Hey, Dean, I have sort of an idea. We obviously cannot," he lowered his voice, with a grin. "Have sex, but you could probably stay. I could ask Nora if I can have a friend over."
"'Gas 'N Sip' Nora?" Dean confirmed. Small town benefits. "Oh, her? Yeah, she likes me. Gives discounts on crap, just because." He smiled, but it was almost forced. Oh, Dean was so exhausted. Cas felt a pang of hurt. "I'm sorta a regular, so -"
"Perfect. I'll text her. She didn't mind the last time, so she really couldn't mind this time either." Cas beamed at him, hiding his worry at Dean's manner. "Come on in. Gia is in the first bedroom on the left, so we'll have to stay there too."
"Thanks," Dean added, after he'd planted another chaste kiss on Castiel's lips, and followed his instructions to go in. Cas heard what he didn't say, but implied. Thanks for not making me go back to my part of town alone, right now.
He worked so hard, Cas awedly thought to himself, as he leaned against the closed door, and typed in a message to Nora.
Seeing the opportunity, he also slipped in a 'Gia is asleep now, but she cried a lot earlier. If you say a doctor is necessary, I can take her. Dean knows Dr. Singer personally.' Satisfied, he walked back to the bedroom.
So what if they hadn't been able to do anything right now? They had the rest of the night to. Nora would be back in a couple of hours. Cas could insist that Dean didn't need to take the bus, and offer to spend the night together at his house.
Then, they could -
But, oh.
Dean was already asleep.
The room was quite empty of furniture except for Gia's cradle and a single couch, and both the baby and his boyfriend lay peacefully asleep on them respectively.
Something inside him melted into a fuzzy warm feeling, as he looked at Dean, snoring slightly, and very asleep for so little time. But then the voice in his head, which was most often, if not always, Dean's, resounded.
Don't watch over people who're sleeping, Cas. That's creepy.
So, Castiel obeyed, and went over to the kitchen, with a smile dangling from his lips, to prepare microwave some of the food Nora left for him - and since she'd given him permission to use her stuff (by which she meant television and WiFi probably, but Cas would extend it to kitchen articles) he began to prepare grilled cheese for his very cheesy boyfriend.
Nor that he'd watched the video many times, or anything, but he was pretty sure it didn't involve the pizzaman falling asleep next to the baby, and looking like the most adorable person to ever exist.
But hey, everyone has their own stories. Every babysitter has their own pizzaman.
PROMPT CREDIT: @geeky-princess
Taglist: @ctrl-alt-destiel @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @moderatelypanickedbisexual @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ladywaywarddsc I know this is like the second one of the day (but I probably won't be able to do another for days now, so bear with me!)
“I could’ve done good,” Baby grumbled, his chin in his palm as he sat on the white wicker chair next to Dean, in the outdoor cafe while Sam and Cas talked to the second witness. “I just needed another chance.”
“When the Priest asked you your religion, you made a joke about Vicecity.” Dean reminded, smirking a little because he could, and he was so past that stage. “You needed more than a chance.”
“I’m sorry, but they didn’t mention it in my finishing school for muscle cars.” Baby threw back.
“As if I did a thesis on witness-interrogation for my Hunting 305 class at community college.” Dean replied, but there was no sharpness in his tone. Mere humor. Baby made a sound that sounded increasingly like a whine, and Dean was satisfied.
“You really have no idea what you’re missing out on,” Baby suddenly said, all serious.
“What?”
“I mean Cas, Dean. Cas.” He repeated, turning his eyes back to the trench-coated angel, looking much shorter than he was supposed to, next to Sam, standing stiff and wide.
Dean could feel the impending lecture in the air. About Cas. About how he and Dean should solve their differences and like, get together or some shit. He’d gotten enough of those, combined with disapproving looks from Sam, on the nights they let loose and hung out together drinking. But before he could reply to that which wasn’t said yet, he was cut off.
Baby was talking about something else. “His wings, Dean. His magnificent wings.”
“What? You - you can see them?”
“No, but if you try hard enough, you can feel them.” He justified. “At least, I could feel them.”
Dean was quiet, because he knew the other wanted to keep speaking.
“When its just him in the back, like most of the time? He lets them sprawl over the seat. And I can feel it. Its a tingling feeling, but it’s there.” He paused. “He never sits on them, you know.”
“Well, one would think that he wouldn’t sit on his wings, right?” Dean pinched his eyebrows together.
“I mean,” He chastised. “It’d be so much easier, if he just folded them up or something. But, no. He never hurts them, he’d never ruin it.”
Dean blinked. “That’s…something.”
“That’s impressive.” Baby corrected. “And, of course you know, he’s so fast.” He let out a whistle.
The tone was different.
The almost reverent tone was replaced by admiration. Maybe attracted, even. “When he flies, Dean, he’s something else. I can’t see him, he isn’t in our dimension when he does it, but can’t you feel it too? Like, damn. That’s fast.”
Of course, Baby would like speed. That part was kinda obvious.
But Dean had thought about it many times before, too. He knew Cas was an angel, even though he not have even half of his powers anymore, and none of that personality. He knew his best friend had wings, he knew that he once flew. With the birds in the sky, maybe the aeroplanes even higher, through the clouds and through the skies, Cas had flown. Faster than all of them.
It was an exciting thought.
Now, though. Dean hurt as much as anyone else did when he thought of Cas’s lost wings. The loss of his ability to fly. He couldn’t imagine what that’d be like. It’d be even worse than losing Baby.
“And when he lost them,” Baby went on, almost in sync with Dean’s head. “I saw how he troubled he was. He had trouble sitting in all that place so empty, by himself. I was there all those moments that you were, Dean,” He paused, serious again. “Maybe you were looking away but I wasn’t, and I saw his heart break each time something reminded him of flight.”
No, I was looking too. Dean wanted to say. But he nodded and made a sad noise in his throat. I just didn’t know what to say.
“I may just be a car,” Baby went on and Dean was surprised at the insecure, humble edge to his ever-confident tone. “I may not be a match for wings of any kind. But I swear, its not about being his wings. If only I could be his wheels.”
Dean listened, dumbstruck.
“That’s too literal a metaphor.” He almost choked on his own voice.
That’s my line. His eyes added.
“Well, where were you when he needed to hear that?” Baby challenged, showing protest with a mutinous lip. He jutted out his chin. “You had a chance of saying it to him.”
A dark cloud went over their conversation. Dean replied, prompt and frowning. “I blew it, okay? I added to his hurt, was a shitty friend overall. I blew my chance.” Dean looked away, away from Baby, and away from Cas, metres away. “And I couldn’t have said it as prettily as you just did either, so there.”
There was a moment of silence.
Followed by a rustle of fabric, and a hand on his shoulder. A hand, just a hand. But there. And giving him hope. Reminding him of home. Like the Chevy Impala ‘67 had always done.
“You,” Dean let out. “You’re really my car, aren’t you?”
“I’m your Baby, yes.”
“Well, Baby,” Dean said, in the same breath for the first time, sounding like he meant it. “Couldn’t you just have, like, given me those lines then? Through the speakers or something?” He smiled, bringing the focus back to lighter matters. “Been my wingman once more, like you’ve been since I started picking up one night stands at 18?”
“What can I say?” Baby smiled, and his fingers around Dean’s shoulder squeezed. “I’m just a car, Dean.”
“Just a car,” Dean repeated, mockingly. “Are you kidding me, Mister-really-sucky-puns?”
“Well, right now, I’m not just a car. Probably this time tomorrow, I’ll be one again.” He grinned, standing up. “I’m gonna go join 'em. You coming?”
“Are you,” Dean groaned, standing up. “Are you gonna use that line on him?”
“Well now that you’ve verified that it’s a good line, I’ve gotta, don’t I?” He smirked, back in his stride. “They say, there’s no such thing as a missed opportunity for a pick-up line.”
“You’re such a -” Dean rolled his eyes. “And I’m not even gonna ask who they is, because its probably 16 year old me.”
“Nah, you were 23.” He laughed. “At sixteen, you were not a hundredth as much of a 'player’ as you think. I should know.”
“Just go.”
Just go hit on my guy, and be done with it. Dean wished he could say it out loud, even in a joking tone, to the man - car - one who probably knew him the best, after his brother. But of course he couldn’t. That needed like many more years of character development before he could call Cas that out loud.
“And shut your face.” He added, because well, he’s Dean, son of John Winchester, isn’t he? “Don’t bother Cas too much.”
Rolling his eyes, Baby strolled off, smoothly leaving Dean frowning behind, with parting words of the most annoying kind. “You wouldn’t kick my ass or anything even if I did. Sure, he’s Cas. But I’m still your Baby, and you’re kind of a sap so you love me too.”
Dean swore under his breath, and to not give him the pleasure of having won the round, determinedly didn’t respond.
**
Dean walked towards the decided restaurant, a small-ish place, which probably didn't serve too much alcohol. Beer, though, would definitely be available.
Well, it would have to work, wouldn't it? Because he sure as hell needed some booze in his system to get through this evening.
This date.
With Cas. And Baby.
He didn't even know why he was doing this. He could've said no - well, theoretically, at least. He could've spent the night at a bar, instead of this diner. With strangers he'd forget the next day - instead of people who actually meant something to him. Maybe even back at the motel, where Sam was, forcing Sam to watch crappy TV with him, instead of look for more cases.
But here he was.
He pushed open the door, the fluorescent 'Open' sign swinging as he did, and looked around for familiar faces.
His eyes found Cas, sitting by himself on a table for four, doing absolutely nothing except looking at the squeezy ketchup bottles, arranged neatly on the table.
Dean sighed, as he made his way over to him. He'd noticed Cas had his trench coat off, but the rest of him was the same. He looked good, of course, but not as though he dressed up for a date.
Of course, Dean hadn't done anything either. It'd been a randomly spontaneous decision to shave at six in the evening, or replace his old red flannel, with a slightly less worn green one. Of course.
A flicker of a thought went through him, as a scene went through his head. He'd once gotten Cas - Steve, actually - dressed up for a date. (More like dressed down, but okay.)
Well, Cas clearly hadn't remembered any of it. Sure, the obnoxious blue vest was absent, but the blazer and tie was pretty much his uniform. Not a Gas 'N Sip uniform - kinda like his custom hunting attire.
In any case, the buttons were all done, all the way to the second, and the collar was fairly formal with the tie blocking any sliver of skin, which may otherwise have been visible.
No big deal. Dean too had folded up his sleeves, for just the heat.
"Hey," Dean sat down across Cas, and the latter looked up at him. "Reading the ingredients of ketchup, are ya?"
"No," Cas smiled, wider than the joke was funny and deserved. Dean was pleased, and he instantly mirrored it. "I know what tomato ketchup is made of."
"Vegetables," Dean clicked his tongue, and winked, referring an older joke, of a simpler time. Cas nodded, remembering surely, and there was quiet for a moment.
"Where's," Dean cleared his throat, and forced the warm comfort of this setup - with Cas - away, with his next words. "Where's Baby?"
Cas shrugged. "He's not been with me for a while now."
Dean blinked. "But -"
"He had something to attend to." Cas recalled.
"He's my car," Dean narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. "What business would he have, something that he couldn't ask me - or you, or Sam - for?"
Cas was surprisingly relaxed. He didn't even have his squint on. "I don't know, Dean, but nevermind. At least you're here."
Dean succeeded in not blushing, but it was a heroic effort.
Sure, he and Cas had some unresolved tension, going for pretty long now; but blatant lines and declarations was not their type of gesture. He was not used to Cas softly looking at him, and telling him that he was glad Dean showed up to their date. This was not up his alley.
"Heh," He stammered. "You hungry? I sorta am. I'm gonna go order, alright? Will get you whatever I have, minus the pie and extra cheese."
Cas began to say something, seemingly to tell Dean that there was a waitress around who'd take their order, but Dean was on his feet and on his way to the main counter.
He leaned on it with his elbow, and did not look back at Cas, lest he should lose it and freak out again. He waited his turn, while the lady spoke to another customer.
It was in another moment, and when his eyes fell on a clock that showed twelve past seven, that a strange thought struck him.
Why wasn't Baby here yet? Fashionably late doesn't really fit into this scenario, of having a diner-made dinner with 2 guys you just hunted vampires with, supposedly a date.
Could it be that - and Dean melted against his resolve and stole a glance at Cas, who wasn't looking at him anymore - Could it be that Baby set them up?
Was he gonna ditch them for the entire evening? Was this - was this a whole plot to get Cas and him on a date?
Okay, Dean was probably overcalculating the facts he had, and overinterpreting. But, the idea suddenly seemed fitting. Why else would Baby not be there? Why else, would he invite Dean to a date, for him and Cas? Why else would he insist on his coming too? Why would -
Wait - what if he was right?
What then?
Dean bit his lip, and the lady behind the counter, in a waitress's uniform and a customer-service smile, finally turned to him. Dean stammered over his order, his head swarming with a million possibilities.
Even their table now seemed like it was a table for two - probably two considerably large men. But two.
She told him that he could go sit, they'd get the order to the table.
He nodded weakly, paid with a tip, and turned back to get to his table.
He was all prepared to propose his theory to Cas - live up to his name, and make the already awkward situation more so - and gauge his reaction. Hell, he was kinda prepared for a full evening, just with Cas. Who knew? Sometimes Dean's courage surprised him, and most of that was around Cas, for obvious reasons.
But as soon as his eyes trailed up to their table, he was stumped.
Baby was there.
He stared, his jaw slack and eyebrows raised, more disappointed than he'd ever admit aloud. In the matter of minutes, it was as if he’d gotten his hopes raised. Baby was right there, sitting next to Cas, squeezed into the same seat as him, their shoulders touching, talking in his usual animated manner.
"Welcome back," Baby greeted Dean with a toothy smile, as Dean took his spot. "Sorry I'm sorta late."
"Yeah," Dean wondered if he'd have trouble hiding his disgruntled frown, but he forged a small smile and was good. Cas certainly looked more satisfied and settled now, with Baby's arm slung around him - well, around the seat, but that was like the oldest trick in every guy's playbook. "Where were you?" He asked, instead.
Baby shrugged, to avoid answering the question. Dean furrowed his brows and was about to repeat and prod, when Cas spoke up. "I think we were both beginning to wonder if you wouldn't come."
A smug smile spread across his face. "Oh, no. I wouldn't miss this, for the World." He gestured with his eyes, at the other two. "And not show up? What do you mean, like, you thought I invited you two on a date and ditched y'all?" His eyes fixed on Dean's. "Set you up, or something?"
"No," Dean began to protest, the lie ready on his lips.
"Don't worry," Baby leaned back, probably even leaned more towards Cas. As if there needed to be any less distance between them. "I wouldn't do that kinda stuff. Like, I'm personally into this thing you two have going, but I'm not gonna meddle and make the move for you. You do you."
Dean rolled his eyes, while Cas looked more surprised.
"If you wanted to be worried about getting set up, though," He added. "Keep a lookout for Sam. His shipping is getting out of control, I heard Charlie say once. He could do this sorta thing, where he invites the both of you to a movie and then makes an excuse for himself."
Dean glared at him, while Cas pursed his lips. "That happens. Often. Dean and I watch the movie, because Sam has great taste."
Dean wished the floor would open up and swallow him. "Uh-huh," He managed, flustered.
"And what, you dumbasses thought it was not a date, because?"
"Because it wasn't." Cas clarified, perfectly serious. "We didn’t ever call it that. We didn’t do date-things. It even ended with us going to our own rooms, and not with a kiss." Cas spoke, in an adequately soft voice, as if somehow Dean wouldn't hear it then.
Dean face-palmed, wondered what he'd done to deserve this, and the blood rushing to his cheeks made his blush prominent. "Goddammit, Cas." He had half a mind to get up and depart, but it’s not like the other half of his head would ever give in to such a sane and healthy decision.
"Oh, hell yeah," Baby laughed, throwing his head back. Both Dean and Cas’s eyes flitted to his bared neck and collarbones, with as much haste as they returned to each other, almost shy of being caught in the act. "I’m even more excited about this date now!"
**
And so, the evening went on. Stories were exchanged, and it was a light-hearted meal. Cas and Baby sat as if glued at the hip, and Dean ate more aggressively any moment he thought of it. There were bad jokes all around. Some more food. They didn’t budge away from each other. Dean got over it slowly. Okay, that was pretty much a lie. At one point during the date, Dean couldn't take it anymore, and spoke up before he could shove those words down his gut like he’d been doing all evening.
"You realize this is a kid-friendly place, right?” He looked up at them. “I mean, you can stop sitting like there's no space left in the entire diner." He crossed his arms across his chest.
It was true. They together fit in the seat, which Dean could fill all by himself, if he tried or spread his legs.
Cas, almost curiously, looked at Baby - their faces unbelievably close - and the bastard shifted obligingly - probably an inch though. "You're right." He agreed, earnestly. He shuffled another inch. But only that much.
"Hey, I don't mind," Baby cajoled, and looked mischievously at Dean. "But, if Cas does, I could always sit next to Dean instead."
"Don't even," Dean growled back.
"Well!" He threw his hands up, in mock exasperation. "There's no other spot for me to sit? You want us move to a larger table for dessert, Dean?"
"Just pull a chair." Dean rolled his eyes. “Sit on the third side.”
"Good idea." Cas agreed, and the way he looked at Dean, so completely sincere and genuine, that Dean had to blink a bunch of times and look away, defeated. What was it about these two that made him go wild?
"Like, sit in the middle?" Baby whined, eyeing the spot. "But, I'm not really the middle in this relationship, am I?" He added, wickedly.
There was a moment of silence.
Dean swallowed, his eyes strained on his plate.
Baby went on, his tone an edge of flirtation, with slick humor. "Why doesn't Dean shift to the middle, huh, Cas?" Cas shrugged, and Dean thanked any luck he had, that Cas hadn’t said ‘good luck’ like the last time - because he’d go nuts.
"Your thoughts, Dean?" Baby winked straight at him, and for a moment, Dean's eyes flickered between Cas's and his faces, wearing opposite expressions but somehow synonymous, and you know what? This was probably how a stroke felt. He could swear his chest hurt.
"You can fucking sit on top of each other, you jackasses." He hissed, through his teeth, dedicating all of his attention to the food in front of him, as he drank his beer obstinately, from the bottle.
"We might," Baby led with a wink, again. "But is that a yes, on being in the middle?"
Jesus Christ.
Dean Winchester regretted all of his life decisions that led him here. Everything. Every fucking little detail, that had brought him here, on a motherfucking date, sitting across the two most gorgeous men he'd ever laid eyes on. One, too damn straight-faced, the other the goddamn opposite. It was a deadly front, and Dean was terrified for himself.
Yeah. He regretted every damn thing he'd ever said, which had brought him here, and conveniently landed him the butt off all the bottom puns possible in this scenario.
“I’m gonna throw my fucking plate at your face, you son of a -” His voice rose with every syllable, until Baby was laughing again - smug-faced and satisfied, like the look he always got when Dean reacted out to something he pulled. Dean, a pissed scowl on his lips, continued to glare at Baby, who doubled up laughing each time their eyes met. Cas looked at Dean, and only Dean. A dedicated tilt of his head.
There was a slight tug at the corner of his lips. Dean knew he’d lose it if Cas ever outright smirked at him - but this was enough to fluster him. “But why?”
Huh, so the sonuvabitch understood.
Dean passionately glared back, and it was enough to make Cas crinkle his eyes into an iconic smile, all dimples, gums and crowfeet. So, at the end of the day, it wasn't Dean's fault he was rendered speechless, and incapable of retorting. It was Cas's.
Has this gotten too weird? Tell me to stop, and I will. If not, mwuahahaha, here I come, more date scenes! Also how do I make Baby go back somebody got any ideas
Thank you for reading! ALSO I HAVE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING @lovenakamura MADE! BASED ON BABY #1
It's Fanfiction Author Appreciation Day, so firstly I'd like to wish all the amazing people who write the perfect words which make us want to roll off the bed screaming, and curl up in a corner alternatively - You're all amazing, and just as valid as OC book-authors.
And secondly, I know a lot of wonderful Fanfic authors - in fact, most of them are very great friends of mine - so I shall be tagging in this post as many as I remember! I regret not having a spectacular memory, but I hope you guys will keep adding to my list!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: "Then, they're not very awesome people, Cas."
Dean and Castiel left the restaurant, at about eight thirty, because the waiter had politely asked them - in different words than exactly those - to either order something or leave, and they'd both had had enough - talking apparently needed a lot of energy, and both of them had respectively tried each other's usual orders, and then a few new items - to be able to have any more.
Castiel had remarked that the night was very beautiful, and Dean had taken this as a request to walk back to Paradise. They were walking back to Paradise, and were a good way away, and Dean's Impala sat in the parking lot of the McDonald's, waiting for Sam to drive away in it. 'He has a key, for emergencies,' Dean had informed Castiel, and Castiel had insisted that their situation did not count as an emergency. So, now, they were walking back, and talking like they'd known each other all their lives, with random questions and random answers, and on baseless topics, which Castiel could only enjoy himself talking about, with Dean.
Dean kicked a pebble, as they walked on the gravel. "I've got another for you. How do you judge a person?"
"What do you mean by 'judge'?" Castiel asked, blatantly.
"Oh, you know," Dean turned to Castiel. "Form a first impression of a person. Where do you begin to look?"
"Eyes, then." Castiel replied, earnestly, turning to face Dean. "They tell a lot about a person."
"On that note, you have beautiful eyes, Cas." Dean piped up.
Castiel netted his eyebrows, casting his eyes downwards. "Thank you, Dean."
"And a little but extremely-gorgeous birdie once told me, that I did too, so," Dean raised his eyebrows, pointedly, referring to the time where stupidly, Castiel had said so. "We're a couple with pretty eyes, Cas. Everyone's going to envy us and our eyes."
"Do you even listen to yourself, when you speak?" Castiel teased, not even caring to stifle the laughter that rolled out of him.
"No, there's like this roaring sound in my ears," Dean grinned broadly, unaffected. "What about you?"
Castiel shook his head. "How do you judge a person?"
"By their cars." Dean replied, immediately.
"What if they're walking?"
"Then, they're not very awesome people, Cas." Dean offered, smirking confidently.
Castiel smiled, in spite of himself. "Dean, you're walking right now."
"I'm different." Dean replied, without missing a beat. "I'm certifiedly awesome."
"How do I argue with a logic like that?" Castiel replied, sarcastically, making Dean smile broadly.
"I've got another," he kicked another pebble. This one went flying, and hit a pole with a clink. "What would you do, if you fell down in public?"
"That's stupid," Castiel folded his arms. "I'd get up, brush myself off, and keep walking."
"Aren't you a genius?"
"I don't think so."
"I meant, what would you do to look like less of a dork?"
Castiel thought about something. "Walk carefully, and not fall, in the first place?"
"No, you've already fallen." Dean argued, like a little kid. "What then?"
"I don't know." Castiel shrugged. "And since you clearly asked the question to set the theme for a joke, what would you do, Dean?" He obliged by asking Dean, who was writhing with the desire to answer
"I'd yell at the people around me, to go save themselves while they can." Dean grinned, largely.
"You'd not really do that." Castiel countered.
"I'll do it tomorrow." Dean retorted. "In the middle of the Lunch hall."
"Okay, okay," Castiel sighed, knowing Dean would 'actually' do it. "But, I have a doubt."
"Yeah?"
"How does that make you any less of a dork, Dean?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Really smart."
"Thank you," Castiel smirked, again, as Dean rubbed the heel of his shoe in the dirt, making a circle. "Okay, I have a question."
"Yes, please." Dean did a little courtesy.
Castiel laughed, as he asked. "What matters the most in a friendship, to you?"
Dean furrowed his eyebrow. "Serious question."
"Yeah, we're past the stage of stupid questions." Castiel nodded, sagely, imitating Dean from before.
"I'll say," Dean thought about it. "The ability to have fun at any point of time."
Castiel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?"
"Absolutely." Dean raised his eyebrows too. "A friend should not only be able to solve any problems, but also distract you from any dilemmas, and make you feel good, and special, and safe, and happy at any moment of time."
"True." Castiel agreed, casting his eyes downwards, at his moving feet.
"And, I didn't get that out of a Hallmark card." Dean added, with a chuckle.
"I never said you did." Castiel pointed out, and Dean shrugged.
"What about you?" Dean asked. "What do you value the most in a friendship?"
"I agree with what you say," Castiel admitted. "But I'm going to say trust. Actually, faith. One should to be able to completely trust their friend, truth them with the truth, with their hearts, with their lives. They should have faith in the friend's judgement. That's when a friendship can be truly true."
"Now, that could be put on a Hallmark card, Cas." Dean complimented.
Castiel ignored that. "By the way, Dean," Dean turned his head, to face Castiel, as they talked. "By your and my answers, do you really think all your friends make the cut?"
Dean's expression turned evasive, immediately.
"Don't give me a lie." Castiel interrupted.
"To be completely truthful," Dean sighed, after a moment of silence, where the sounds of their shoes - especially Dean's hunting boots - were the only sounds to be heard. "They don't. And you know what, Cas? I never thought that they did, ever. They don't need to, they're not that kind of friends, they're just..people I hangout with."
"Your friends."
"People I hangout with needn't be my friends." Dean corrected. "Some of them are. Benny, and Jo, and Sam, they're like the only friends, I have, going by our definitions of friends. The rest of them are just, people I know, people who I mo-"
"Because if you didn't, you'd be like me." Castiel cut him off, a slight frown in place. Not directed at Dean, but the bitter truth. "Because if you didn't 'hangout' with all those people, you'd not be popular. You'd be a weird ja-"
"Cas." Dean cut him off, again. "No. No. I do not- That's not the case."
"That is exactly the case." Castiel turned his head from Dean, his hands dug in his pockets.
"Okay, maybe it is, but Cas, I don't do it consciously. I don't need to be popular, not for my sake, it just happens, and I just-"
"You don't need to explain yourself to me."
"But, I want to."
"I don't need any explanation." Castiel repeated. "I know you're not an attention-craving dick, or a se-"
"How do you know that, if you didn't let me explain?" Dean challenged.
"Because of today." Castiel frowned. "So, I know you're not one of those. I just don't get why you carry the weight of that identity, nonetheless. Portray yourself like tha-"
"I've got used to it. I can't change."
"You don't want to."
"I do-"
"You needn't."
"Then, what is this about?"
"A very simple thing." Castiel faced Dean once more, unable to read Dean in spite of staring into Dean's eyes, clearly. "By your own definition of friendship, there are people around you who you call a 'friend', but who don't qualify. And, you are thus, lying to yourself."
There was a length of silence. Again.
"Are you saying all this, because you care for me?" Dean asked, suddenly. "You don't want me to get hurt."
"Of course, I don't." Castiel frowned, again. "We're friends, Dean."
Dean's smile was crooked. "By my definition, we definitely are." He almost dared Castiel with his next words, "Are we friends by yours?"
"Yes." Castiel replied, firmly. "Yes, we are."
Dean smiled suddenly. "Thank you, Cas. 'That pleases me, greatly.'" He added, imitating Castiel's dialogue from often before.
"I don't say it like that," Castiel objected.
"Oh, sorry, you say it like this." He cleared his throat, and then begun in a thick voice, lower than his own. "'That pleases me greatly'."
"Hey, turn your face towards me!" Dean complained. "I wanna look at you, as I talk to you."
"What?" Castiel smiled, almost startled.
"What?" Dean defended. "Sue a guy for speaking his mind. You're really good-looking, especially when you're blushing."
"I'm not blushing," Castiel protested, blushing even more.
"Okay," Dean agreed, cheerfully, annoying Castiel even more.
"Don't say it like that!" Castiel complained. "I'm really not blushing."
"Okay." Dean said, in a high falsetto.
"That's not what I meant by not saying it like 'that'."
"Okay." Dean repeated, in the same voice he'd used before, which was 'supposed' to be Castiel's voice.
"You're ridiculous," Castiel gave up, kicking a pebble himself, as they walked, and turned to the Castiel's home street. They were five minutes away, now, from the gates of Paradise.
"Okay." Dean laughed. Castiel joined in, his eyes not leaving Dean's, for even a moment.
***
A/N: Hello, readers! I hope all of you are doing amazing! This chapter was kind of a filler, so sorry, but there's good times coming up! I can't believe the date went on 3+ chapters, and it's gonna go a couple more. Don't blame me, blame tumblr and stupid 100 block text limit.
I'm going to dedicate this chapter to a very dear friend, @the-devils-date who's utterly awesome, and though we don't talk much, she means a lot to me as a fellow supernatural fan! Not to mention, she's a very supportive reader of his fan fiction, and her comments always make my day! Love you, Nav, keep being amazing.
Wow, my taglist's gotten huge! ENTRIES ARE STILL OPEN, THOUGH. Some of you may have noticed that I'm tagging in the text after a very long time, but my internet is miraculously amazing today, so I'm gonna exploit it! See you soon, and hope you have a wonderful day, you wonderful people! Love, Sheya. Keep it sailing.
