Mick has to explain to Cas that he was flirting. Cas has some realizations about the things Dean has said to him.
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Misha and Adam's comments at Momento Con this weekend were fantastic.
Ironically, Cas being in denial, oblivious!Cas from early seasons, and Mick's obvious flirting gave me a Casmick idea (it's still Destiel though of course)
I've never shipped Casmick, but the concept of realization via the transitive property compelled me.
Read on AO3
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Cas called Mick asking to talk about a case, and they met up at a bar.
Seated on the stools at the far end, by the woodgrain wall, they began talking shop. Cas looked confused each time that Mick leaned a bit towards him or asked him a personal question.
Mick realized that Cas was still oblivious and decided to spell it out for him. Cas looked genuinely surprised.
"So, that was flirting?"
"...Yes. Quite bluntly, I might add."
Cas thought back to all of the similar things Dean had said to him over the years.
Well Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid.
So I'm Thelma and you're Louise, and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?
On the other hand you, you're looking good.
...I needed a super strong dude in a trenchcoat...
There were many more things Dean had said that were loving, but Cas had assumed they were meant platonically.
If "I bet you could finish me off without breaking a sweat" was blunt flirting, according to Mick, then maybe Dean's "not for nothing," "Thelma and Louise," and "super strong dude in a trench coat" comments were in the same category.
Dean did tend to roll his eyes after saying these things, just like Mick had. It was even more interesting that right then, in the bar, Mick had been leaning into Cas' space and eying him strangely. Come to think of it, when Dean made the Thelma and Louise comment, he had come right up to Cas' face and given him a similar look...
"Whoa; earth to angel!" Mick was waving his hand in front of Cas' face.
Cas shook his head to clear it and looked back at Mick. "Um, should I be blunt here?"
Mick shrugged and gestured broadly. "Psh; by all means." Can he even be any other way?
"I am...not interested. You've given me a lot to think about though, so thank you for that."
Cas tipped his empty beer bottle slightly in acknowledgement and walked away before Mick could regain his composure and respond.
Cas had to do some "blunt flirting" of his own.
End notes under the cut
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The trench coat thing is from a later season draft script, yes, but this is a canon-adjacent AU where either Mick lives and this happened much later, or Dean said the "super strong dude in a trench coat" line in season 12. Deal with it, lol.
Since Mick gave Cas his number in 12*09 and the near-death confession was in 12*12, let's say this happened in between those episodes.
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I don't normally tag list for off the wall stuff like this.
@casmick-consequences I believe this is your niche, lol.
@sextualfantasy requested destiel with Jealous!Dean, and the MotW being wildly flirtatious with Cas. <3
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Dean grits his teeth as he stares down at the table, watching the couple--watching the two people across the table from him in the reflection of a spoon. He needs to relax. His jaw hurts from the force of his irritation, but every time he makes an effort to loosen his jaw, he hears the scraping, tinkling laugh of the kikimora. Worse yet are the cooed endearments, all dropped directly in Cas’ lap, for Cas to do whatever Cas does with compliments, but for Dean to obsess over, until he’s nothing more than a tightly wound ball of tension that’s three seconds away from exploding.
Definitely wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
It was supposed to be a fairly easy case--3 men, all in fairly good health, went to bed one night and never woke up the next morning. The perplexed medical examiner finally put the cause of death down to heart attack, in lieu of any other explanation. But the rictus expression of fear and the clawed hands, frozen in the act of clutching the blankets, had all spoken of something unnatural.
It had taken them a few tries before they landed on kikimora. They’re not common. To Dean’s knowledge, Dad had come across the hint of one once, and Bobby had killed one, once, about twenty years ago. Silver and salt, was all Bobby’s journal said, and Dad’s journal didn’t even say that much. Don’t look her in the eyes, was Bobby’s other piece of advice, along with the warning that kikimora usually fixated on young men, to drive them wild with desires, and young women, to drive them mad with jealousy. This one has deviated somewhat off script in that she’s literally terrifying men to death, which means that she has to be put down.
It had been a foolproof plan, or as close to foolproof as the Winchesters got. Find the kikimora--the instructions were a little vague there, since all the lore said was that she would be in the guise of a beautiful woman and possibly have chicken feet--but Dean had figured with Cas alongside them, there wasn’t much cause to worry. While his grace isn’t what it used to be, Cas can still venture into a bar or club and pick out any ten monsters, usually before both his feet are in the door. Plus, there was an added advantage to bringing him along.
“After all,” Dean had said, tucking his silver knife into the inner pocket of his suit, “you’ll be able to look her in the eyes, no problem.”
Dean should really know by now not to say shit like that.
Cas clocked the kikimora from the second they walked into the bar. He’d pointed her out to Dean, a waitress with long black hair and pale, porcelain skin. They’d gone over together, Dean carefully looking into the middle distance as Cas introduced them as agents and could they just have a word--The kikimora had glanced up, taken in the whole breadth of Cas’ face--the persistent stubble clinging to his jaw, the thick dark hair curling over his ears, the piercing blue eyes--and her smile had spread, predatory and pleased, across her face. Have more than one word sweetheart, she’d said, lilting voice reaching out to Cas. You can have all the words you like.
Cas had taken one look at her face and--
If Dean strains his ears, he can hear the low rumble and scrape of Cas’ voice. From the second that Cas looked into the kikimora’s eyes, he hasn’t looked away. And her...She must have her boss under some kind of spell; either that or she’s not a waitress at all, because this whole damn time, after the first Well hey there handsome, that she threw Cas’ way, she hasn’t shifted from Cas’ side.
Dean tries not to think about how the lore says that kikimora fixate on attractive men. About how they’ll drive them mad with desire.
He chances a look.
Cas doesn’t look driven mad with desire, but he doesn’t...not look driven mad with desire. Mostly, he’s wearing that Cas look that he gets when he’s listening intently to someone--the small line that knits between his eyebrows, the determined little purse of his lips, the laser-like focus of his eyes on another person. Dean’s used to that person being him.
An ugly emotion swirls in his gut and claws its way up his throat as he watches the kikimora laugh and reach out. Her hand rests on Cas’ wrist, fingertips daring to slip underneath the cuff of his shirt to flirt with the bare skin of his arm. Cas never shakes it off. No, Cas just leans in closer, tilting his head in the way that Dean had come to think possessively of as his. Dean watches him as he takes a sip of his drink. The beer leaves a remnant of foam shining on his upper lip. That’s when the kikimora reaches out and swipes her thumb over the curve of Cas’ upper lip, except it’s not a swipe, she’s just leaving her thumb there, resting on Cas’ lips like that’s her newfound property, and that--
Dean doesn’t register the low growl rumbling through his chest, or the fact that he’s already up on his feet, until he’s looming over the two of them.
“Agent,” he says. He tries to repress all of the writhing emotions in his chest and it leaves his voice rough. He rifles through his brain for Cas’ alias and comes up empty. “Can I speak to you?”
Finally, the kikimora’s thumb falls away from Cas’ lips as the angel turns to look at him. Dean keeps his eyes on Cas, ignoring the small huff of irritation from the kikimora.
“We’re actually in the middle of something, if you don’t mind,” she says, when neither Dean nor Cas move. Her hand lands on Cas’ jaw, turning his face back towards her. “Hey sexy, I know your friend is cute and all, but he’s just going to have to wait his turn, all right?”
For a moment, Dean forgets that they’re in a crowded bar. He forgets about all the bystanders and the need for subtlety. All he can see, through his red-tinted vision, is the kikimora, leaning in close to Cas, her hair cascading like a waterfall and hiding Cas’ face from view, as she calls him sexy.
That’s his fucking angel, thank you very much.
At the same time that Dean explodes out with Now look here skank, Cas leans in closer, tucks a bit of kikimora’s hair behind her ear and murmurs, “Come with me?”
The kikimora flashes a triumphant smile at Dean as she runs her fingers through Cas’ hair, down to scrape across his jaw. “Of course,” she croons, stroking over his cheeks. “Let’s go.”
Cas throws one impenetrable look over his shoulder towards Dean, before he’s up and walking away. Dean looks down to see that his fingers are laced with the kikimora’s. They disappear down the darkened hallway towards the bathrooms and, coincidentally enough, the back exit. The last thing Dean sees is the kikimora’s hand reaching up to twist a lock of Cas’ hair around her finger.
Something hot and ugly curls in his stomach and Dean is out the door after them, pushing his way through various bodies as he makes his way past the bathrooms and into the alley behind the bar. It stinks back here, the dumpsters only feet away and the hood vents belching out grease, but it’s dark and private.
His silver knife bumps against his hip and Dean draws it out, glad at least that bit of subterfuge is over with. Now there’s just the hunting things aspect of his job and he’s looking forward to that part more than usual.
His ears pick up the unmistakable sound of a scuffle, followed by a sharp cry and an even sharper, “What the hell do you--” By now Dean’s running, the sounds of a fight sending adrenaline and anger and all those other twisted things that he likes to pretend don’t writhe around in him swimming to the surface. He rounds the corner of the dumpster to find--
Castiel, wiping blood off his angel blade, looking calm and collected as if he’s asking Dean’s opinion on which avocado is the right type of firm, I can’t quite tell the difference, and Dean has the sinking suspicion suddenly, as Castiel looks at him, that he’s never been as clueless as he’s let on.
“Hello Dean,” Cas says, tossing the scrap of cloth onto the kikimora’s body with an almost imperceptible expression of distaste. His eyes flick to the blade in Dean’s hands. “I think you’ll find that unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary.” Dean’s palm is sweaty around his knife; he doesn’t let it go. He stares at Cas, who looks at him as calmly as if they ran into each other in the library, but there’s something smoldering behind Cas’ eyes. Eleven years have given Dean a pretty good basis of knowledge for when Cas is fucking with him, and Cas...
Cas is fucking with him.
“You let her put her hands on you,” Dean says. He can’t help how his walk changes--no longer the frantic, rush of worry and jealousy (all right, he can admit it, it was definitely jealousy twisting up his insides). Instead, now it’s the tight, coiled grace of a hunter.
From the barely-there smile that ghosts across Cas’ face, he notices the difference as well.
“She called you sexy and handsome, and she put her hands all over you.”
“She did,” Cas agrees, smooth and easy and too fucking smug for his own good.
Dean’s walking towards the edge of a precipice. He’s been crawling towards it for several years, but, it appears anyway, that Cas has gotten tired of waiting for him to get there on his own and has now taken the drastic step of simply drop-kicking him off the edge.
And Dean should probably be more irritated that he was fucking played like a two dollar harmonica this whole night, but Cas is in front of him, smug and celestial, and everything that Dean ever wanted, and his, his his--
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” Dean crowds against Cas, pushes him back against the wall. Hips, legs, shoulders, his hands cupping Cas’ face and tilting it up so that Cas’ eyes catch the sickly yellow gleam of the streetlight. Cas huffs out in silent laughter and the sound scours away any of the bitter jealousy clogging Dean’s veins until he’s just overwhelmed with Cas. “Fucking flirting right in front of me, what the hell?”
“It seemed the best way to get your attention,” Cas murmurs, which is all Dean allows him to say before he’s closed the scant inch of space between them, his mouth landing messily over Cas’.
The taste of Cas on his lips purges everything else from Dean’s memory and replaces it all with the exact sensation of how it feels to have Cas’ hands slipping underneath his suit jacket to land, scalding hot, on his waist. The kiss starts brutal but it softens after a second, Dean nipping at the swell of Cas’ lower lip, Cas tracing the seam of Dean’s lips until Dean opens to him.
Dean doesn’t know how they kiss, there in the alley behind a dive bar. It could be minutes, it could be years. All he knows, is that when he finally pulls away from Cas, just to catch his breath, Cas tries to follow, lips finally separating from Dean’s with a soft, wet smack. Dean keeps his hands cupped around Cas’ cheeks and presses his forehead to Cas’, unwilling to pull too far away. Their breath mingles together, close and humid, in the few inches separating them.
“We still have to take care of the body,” Cas finally says, ever the realist. Dean muffles his groan by pressing his mouth to the side of Cas’ jaw. He likes the rough scape of stubble against the tender flesh of his lips, does it again, just because. “And while I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to doing anything more, I’m quite opposed to continuing in our present location.”
His libido kicked into high gear, Dean pulls far enough away to get a glimpse of the wicked twinkle in Cas’ eyes. “You...” he says, overwhelmed by the sheer evil genius of Cas.
“Take care of the body Dean,” Cas tells him, with a gleam in his eye that Dean suspects has always been there. “And then we’ll...talk.”
Played like a two dollar banjo and all Dean can do is grin as he grabs the kikimora’s body and tries to figure out how he and Cas are going to handle this.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 22/22
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Benny Lafitte, Cain (Supernatural), Colette Mullen, Abel (Supernatural), Garth Fitzgerald IV, Samuel Campbell, Christian Campbell, Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Eileen Leahy
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Omega Verse, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pack Bonding, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) Whump, Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), Pining, Mutual Pining, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Virgin Castiel, Cabin Fic, Pack Building, Snowed In, Strangers to Lovers, Mail Order Brides, (sorta) - Freeform, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating, Sharing Body Heat, Isolation, Knotting, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Threats of Violence, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Violence, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, I promise, Past Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Torture, Implied Mpreg, Bloodlust, Possessive Castiel, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Come Marking, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Werewolf Mates, Full Shift Werewolves, Hurt/Comfort, living off the grid, Oblivious Castiel, everything works out, Scent Marking, Marking, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Creampie, desecration of a perfectly good pie, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, DeanCasMB2018, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, elements from teen wolf, Fusion, Idiots in Love, cabin in the woods, Attempt at Humor, Mating Bond, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
For some of us, it’s easy, close your eyes, take a breath, and jump. For others, it takes an entire bottle of whiskey, a slow, unreliable internet connection, and years of self-induced isolation on a picturesque mountainside to do what they have to do. What they need to do. Many years after losing his own pack, his family, an act he blames himself for, Alpha-Were Castiel is skilled at not giving himself even the smallest of pleasures, including that of a pack. An alpha needs a pack. It’s written into their DNA. It’s so much more than just having a mate. It’s the pack bonds that make an alpha whole, and the longer Castiel denies himself one, the more he loses of his humanity.
When a drunken, desperate act brings a beautiful, vibrant omega to his doorstep with a disastrous winter storm nipping at his heels, Castiel knows he does not deserve the gift. Sending Dean back down the mountain would be certain death for the young were, but allowing him to stay will undoubtedly change Castiel’s life forever. Maybe it’s time for Castiel to leave his darkness in the past, where it belongs. With Dean standing next to him on the precipice, there’s nothing left for Castiel to do but close his eyes, take a breath, and leap.
Virgin Cas is so confused and sweet and I just want to hug him! Some angst in the beginning, but I advise you to keep reading (good smut is coming). Enjoy!
Honestly, I have no idea where this came from but I hope y’all enjoy it!
They had just finished a case in Snohomish, Washington and were unwinding after a week's worth of running around town looking for cursed objects in a local bar when the guy walked over to their table.
Apparently Snohomish was the antique capital of the northwest which made their search for a collection of objects that a witch had cursed before fleeing the country. While Cas had been rather content to patter around town inspecting everything from antique lamps to ancient hope chests, Dean had been more impatient.
There had been only two upsides to the whole case, the day that they got to check out a classic car show just in case the witch had cursed one of the vehicles and the fact that no one had actually purchased any of the cursed items.
A single wave of Cas' hand and the objects were as good as new, perfectly suitable for purchase. The fur stole made of sable would no longer skin its buyer alive and the sewing kit would not overwhelm anyone with the urge to gouge out their eyes and sew their mouths shut.
Cas had calmly explained the curses associated with all of the objects as they had strolled out of the umpteenth antique store they had visited that week. Both Sam and Dean had winced at some of the curses, especially the one involved with the mostly naked tchotchke of a busty blonde pinup girl.
They had bought a few little trinkets, that Cas had assured them were not cursed, in order to not look suspicious. Wandering around an antique store for two hours, clearly looking for something, before leaving empty handed wasn't easily overlooked.
Especially not by the little old lady behind the front counter who had watched the three of them like a hawk during their search. Dean hadn't been sure if she was just curious, worried they were going to steal something, or a homophobic baby boomer trying to figure out who was sleeping with who in their little trio.
For the record, the answer was nobody was sleeping with anybody. Not yet, anyway.
He was still working on his eight year plan to woo a certain blue eyed angel. It wasn't really working all that well so far but Dean was nothing if not persistent.
He preferred that description over stubborn son of a bitch which was admittedly more accurate.
So they had left the antique store with useless little baubles that would probably get lost amongst the rest of the crap in the Bunker.
Sam had predictably picked out an old leather bound book written in a language he didn't even speak, let alone read. He had simply shrugged and asked Cas, their friendly neighbor polyglot, if he could help him learn it.
Dean had selected an old canine tooth hanging off a leather cord, assuming the tooth had once belonged to a lion or tiger. Cas had shortly thereafter informed him that it was a manticore's tooth, earning an impressed whistle from the hunter who had run his thumb over the chunk of bone.
Cas' choice was hands down the oddest of the afternoon. After narrowing his eyes and wandering through the different sections of the antique shop, Cas had finally settled on a small leather pouch full of keys, half of which were broken or bent.
At Dean and Sam's questioning looks, Cas had followed Sam's earlier example and shrugged. He explained he simply thought they were interesting and that was the end of the conversation.
After packing into the Impala, they had driven downtown to cozy little bar called the Trophy Room because everything in Snohomish just had to do with antiques. Hell, the bar even had a cocktail menu full of drinks bearing antiques-related names.
Naturally, while Sam and Dean ordered beers, Cas gave in to curiosity and requested a 50's Cadillac cocktail. It arrived in a martini glass with a wedge of lime and a bright smile from their waitress who kept making googly eyes at Sam.
It was while Dean was joking about staying in town for another night so Sam could get his rocks off with the pretty brunette who was clearly enamored with him that the guy strode across the bar to their table.
He was dressed in a suit, his outfit mirroring Cas' almost exactly save for his lack of a tie and trench coat and the addition of cubic zirconia studded cufflinks. His black hair was slicked back with about a jar and a half's worth of hair gel.
His face was gaunt, high cheekbones accentuating the fact. He had dark eyes, probably brown or hazel, in stark contrast to his pale skin.
He was probably some sort of office worker, a manager or chief officer of marketing or finances judging by the way he walked. He kept his held high, chin raised while he maintained perfect posture, shoulders squared.
He was good-looking in an unremarkable way. The kind of guy that Dean wouldn't have been able to pick out of a line-up with a gun to his head.
"You know..." he drawled as he set his elbow on the table, standing beside Cas. It was obvious that he only had eyes for the angel, not even bothering to acknowledge Sam and Dean as he continued, "I think I just saw the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life."
Cas just blinked a few times and narrowed his eyes in confusion as he looked at the other man. It was clear that he had no idea why a complete stranger was addressing him so casually, no doubt trying to figure out if the man was some sort of supernatural creature.
Dean muffled a laugh with a forced cough before taking another sip of his beer, leaning back to watch how things would unfold. Business guy would throw out a couple of pick-up lines, Cas would shut him down, and he would go running back to the bar with his tail tucked between his legs.
"I suppose congratulations are in order," Cas stated matter of factly before raising his glass to his lips and taking another sip of his frou-frou drink. After finishing it, he met the other man's eyes and calmly said, "Congratulations."
But Mr. Business Suit didn't the easy out. Instead, he smiled a bit and pointed at something over Cas' shoulder, urging, "Yeah, y'know, if you look now you'll see him right there."
As expected, Cas turned his head to peer at whatever the still unnamed man was pointing at. The trio of hunters were seated at a table directly next to a wall.
A wall of mirrors. Dean immediately saw what the guy was aiming for, moderately impressed.
Cas squinted at his reflection, tipping his head to the side in contemplation. Dean was suddenly reminded of all those YouTube videos of kittens staring at their reflections, biting his tongue to refrain from making the comparison aloud.
"I don't understand," Cas announced as he turned back to Dean, looking to him for answers. It kindled a warm, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling in him that he was the go-to source of reference when it came to humans and all the confusion that went along with the species.
But it turned out, his endless wellspring of knowledge concerning all things human wasn't needed. A moment later, Cas answered his own unspoken question, murmuring, "I just see me."
Taking pity on the poor guy, or rather, poor angel, Dean snorted and explained, "He's flirting with you, Cas."
"Oh," Cas said simply, nodding to himself. A moment later his confusion was back twofold as he frowned and glanced between Business Suit and Dean, inquiring, "What should I do?"
Dean opened his mouth to tell Cas that he already knew what to do when he realized that Cas didn't. He had very little experience with flirting.
Sure, Meg had flirted with him any time the two were in the same general vicinity but he highly doubted that counted. Cas had probably only seen her flirtatious remarks and sexual innuendos as taunts from a piece of demon hellspawn.
And besides that admittedly passionate kiss the two had shared, that Cas had already explained had only been due to him following the example set by the porn he had watched earlier, there had been no hint of any true romantic interest or chemistry between them.
Sure, there had been a few people who complimented Cas' undeniably good looks. But half the time their comments were made when Cas was nowhere in sight or earshot.
Besides, compliments weren't flirtations without intent.
And Dean highly doubted that fucking reaper had bothered to flirt with Cas before tricking him into sleeping with her. Just the thought made Dean's blood boil all over again.
So, no. Cas didn't have any experience with flirting, let alone how to respond to it.
Apparently, Dean took too long to advise Cas because the next thing he knew, Business Suit was curling a hand around Cas' wrist and explaining, "You should come over to the bar with me. Let me buy you another drink. See how things go."
A few seconds later, Cas and Business Suit were across the room, sitting down at the bar. Dean blinked, still trying to process what he had just witnessed, before turning to Sam and demanding, "What the hell just happened?"
"I...have no idea," Sam admitted, looking rather taken aback himself. Their waitress passed their table, making eyes at the younger of the two brothers again.
Like a loyal puppy, Sam was on his feet a second later to trail after her. He clapped Dean on the arm before disappearing after her, mumbling, "Lauren gets off work in five minutes. Don't wait up."
It took Dean another few minutes to realize that he had been stuck with the fucking check.
* * * * * *
For the next fifteen minutes, Dean glared at Business Suit's back as he threw back another shot of whiskey. He had switched to the hard stuff after another beer.
He needed considering the shitshow that was his day. His replacement waitress, an engaged woman with short black hair and a name tag proclaiming her name to be Harmony, seemed understanding.
Cas and Business Suit seemed pretty chummy, sitting right beside each other at the bar, their arms pressed together. Business Suit was tossing back shots of cheap vodka while Cas had ordered another fancy cocktail.
It wasn't a Cadillac that time, instead the drink in his hand looked like an Old Fashioned. He kept fiddling with the twist of citrus rind floating in the dark liquid.
He seemed to be enjoying himself though Dean wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. Already there was that horrible feeling of jealousy burning him alive from the inside out.
It intensified every time he saw Cas smiling or laughing at something Business Suit said or did, like a stabbing pain in the chest. Every time Business Suit reached over to fuss with Cas' tie or brush an imaginary eyelash off his cheek.
It was driving Dean crazy, having to watch the angel he had been ass over ankles in love with for the past eight years getting schmoozed by some yuppie asshole. But he didn't know what else could do.
He couldn't march over there and break the two apart. Not without Cas questioning his motives and Dean having to come up with some sort of bullshit excuse that Cas would immediately see through.
He had considered faking an emergency but that would just make Cas worry. And Dean wasn't in the mood to get smited for lying to an angel.
He had also thought about just leaving and returning to their motel room. Cas had his wings again thanks to good old Chuck, he could find his way back.
Besides, with the way Business Suit was getting all touchy feely with Cas who didn't seem to mind all that much, the angel might not even return to the motel room that night. And didn't that make Dean want to throw up his lunch?
He was stuck between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go. To think, he hadn't thought the hunt could get any worse.
He had just wanted to unwind with a few beers, maybe stop at some hole in the wall diner for a couple burgers, not watch some douchebag get all handsy with his angel.
Ugh, he needed another drink.
He waved Harmony down as she walked by his table, pointing emphatically at his glass of whiskey with a desperate pout. She nodded back at him with a friendly wink and an encouraging thumbs up before she disappeared into the crowd.
He turned his attention back to Business Suit who was in the middle of the old yawn truck, curling his arm around Cas' shoulders. Dean bristled.
Cas deserved better than that kind of cliche move. It was better suited for high school kids on first dates than angels who had saved the world a dozen times over.
Cas deserved genuinely romantic stuff like red roses and chocolate covered strawberries and bubble baths. Shit like that.
And yes, Dean realized that he was being a selfish idiot since he had never given Cas any of those things in the eight years they had known each other. But he wanted to. More than anything.
But that couldn't happen if Business Suit ended up charming his way into Cas' pants before Dean could.
He was in the middle of thinking about how much he would absolutely love to kick that prick's ass when Harmony returned, setting a glass down in front of him. He frowned at her, complaining, "Aww, c'mon. Water? Really?"
"Trust me," she informed him, crossing her arms over her chest while leveling him with a no nonsense look. "You need it, hon. Can't go confessing your undying love to Blue Eyes over there if you're drunk off your ass."
"How...?" Dean mumbled, narrowing his eyes at the waitress.
Harmony just shrugged and flashed her engagement ring at him, the large diamond glinting in the lights of the bar. Smiling to herself, she casually explained, "Me and my fiancee have had our fair share of rough patches. Hell, she thought she was straight when we first met. Keep your chin up, things will work out."
With that, she turned and walked away to take someone else's order, leaving Dean with his thoughts. Talk about irony. Or was it just a coincidence?
Whatever. Either way, Harmony's words struck a chord deep within him.
He nodded to himself as he raised his glass to his lips to take a long sip of ice cold water. Leaning back to get more comfortable, Dean just waited.
As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later, Cas abruptly stood from the bar.
He turned on his heel and stalked back over to Dean's table, helping himself to the seat across from him and the glass of whiskey that still held a few sips of liquor. Dean waited patiently for some sort of explanation, glancing over at Business Suit who looked rather taken aback himself.
When Cas said nothing, even after he took the liberty of polishing off the whiskey, Dean took the initiative himself. "So... How'd that go?"
"I don't think I enjoy flirting," Cas relayed with a solemn nod. Tapping his fingers against the side of the whiskey glass, he amended, "Then again, I may not have done it correctly."
"Alright. Keep going," Dean instructed, gesturing for Cas to continue. "I'm all ears, man."
"Eric complimented me. Frequently. But it seemed rather insincere," Cas reported. "Our conversation switched topics to antiques. I told him about the bag of keys I selected at the last shop."
"Oh, yeah?" Dean hummed before taking another sip of water. "What'd he think about that?"
Cas hunched his shoulders, still fiddling with the empty glass. His voice was gruffer than usual as he explained, "He told me that I would be better off selling them for scrap metal. That they're useless trinkets and their only value is sentimental."
"I'm guessing you disagree," Dean observed. Cas just nodded.
"Admittedly, the keys do not hold much monetary value but I don't understand why that matters. That's not why I like them," Cas claimed, his brows knitting together. "They hold memories, secrets, of those who once owned them. They may have locked journals or jewelry boxes, guarded family documents or heirlooms. They still do. They're human. That's why I like them."
The explanation was so enthusiastic, so passionate. So much thought and care and attention put into the answer. It was so like Cas it nearly took Dean's breath away.
The next thing he knew, he was leaning across the table to press a quick, chaste kiss to Cas' lips. A dopey grin was stretched across his face when he sat back, Cas blinking at him, incredulous.
"Dean...?" The angel whispered, his words nearly inaudible. "Why did you do that?"
"Well, to be honest, Cas, I'm not really sure," Dean admitted a little breathlessly. Running his hand through his hair, he made sure to tack on, "But I do know it's long overdo."
"Oh," Cas murmured, his cheeks actually flushing with color. "Then I suppose this is as, too."
And with that, Cas grabbed Dean by his tie and tugged him into a kiss that they both smiled into. As for Business Suit, it was his turn to be jealous.
This is one of the prompts I got. If you’ve sent me a prompt, don’t worry, I’ll get to it.
“The one where Cas learns the concept of pet names and starts using them casually on waiters and waitresses wherever they go and Dean gets jealous. Cas doesn't understand what’s going on with him and asks and Dean gets mad and says something like "what's wrong is that you've been calling random people these sweet names and you've never used them on me." and Cas goes "Oh, I thought you didn’t like pet names." and then, however you wanna end it.”
It was all Sam’s fault. That sasquatch, yeti-haired hippie was the cause of the worst day of Dean Winchester’s life. No, he didn’t start another apocalypse. That would’ve been better. That bastard went and told Cas the use of pet names. Yes, that was worse than the apocalypse. Shut up.
Cas had decided the best way to learn about being human was to watch his two favorite humans and out of everything he could’ve learned he had to go and learn about Dean and the weird endearments he used on others. Because of Cas’ utter curiosity, he had asked Sam to explain the use of the pet names. Sam to his amusement taught Cas why people used pet names and what all are pet names. Cas had seemed satisfied after that, and the brothers thought that was the end of that. Boy, were they wrong!
It happened first when they were at a dingy diner. Dean had been talking to Sam about the case they were working on when he saw the waiter walking towards them. Before he could even say hi to her, Cas had turned towards her and smiled - that was shocking enough for Dean - and to Dean absolute shock, Cas had said-
“Hi, darling. Could I get a cup of coffee, please.” At that point, Dean had spat out his water and Sam was trying to muffle his laughter. The waiter had smiled at Cas before giving Dean a disgusted look and then walking away to get the coffee.
“What the hell, Cas?!” Dean had meant that to come out as indifferent but he was more angry and confused than he had thought apparently. At least it got Cas’ attention. Silver lightning.
“Sam had told me that you used “pet names” to indicate your affection towards others or to show you are being nice. I wanted her to know her services were appreciated.” Cas completed saying with a nod, like what he said was completely obvious to everyone else but Dean. Dean was glaring at Sam the entire time Cas was monologuing. Sam looked awfully innocent.
“Yeah, whatever,” Dean mumbled and went back to his breakfast. Hopefully, it wouldn’t happen again.
It happened again. Multiple times. No matter if they were men or women, Cas always seemed to use some sort of pet name on them. It was frustrating, to say the least. Some of ‘em even reacted in a very positive way. God only knew how many numbers Cas had gotten. 14. It was 14 numbers. Dean had counted. You know, just to make sure none of them were bad. That’s why. No other reason at all. None.
Even Sam had seemed concerned. Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was concerned about the fact that Cas seemed to be an attraction magnet or because Dean looked constipated every time it happened. It didn’t matter. It was all Sam’s fault anyway. That didn’t do anything to make Dean feel better. He was currently nursing a cold beer and staring at Cas (nothing creepy about that at all) while Cas flirted with the bartender. The angel of the Lord was freakin’ flirting. Unbelievable. Dean wasn’t completely sure if Cas knew he was flirting, not that it mattered. Cas was giving his attention to the stupid bartender rather than to Dean. Damn right he was in a crappy mood.
“Well, I get off in 20 minutes if you’re interested in coming home with me.”
“No!” Dean’s outburst stumped him more than anybody else but that didn’t stop him. “He’s not coming home with you. He’s coming home with me.” And with that Dean had dragged Cas off the bar. Cas might’ve been surprised enough to lose control because Dean wasn’t sure how he dragged an Angel of the Lord. God help him.
“Dean-”
“No, Cas, we’re not doing this here. Get in the car.” Dean had got in before Cas could even say something. He didn’t know what he was going to do. What the hell did he just do?! He hoped he had a blank face when he felt Cas sit on the passenger seat. Fuck, okay.
“Dean. What’s wrong?” Dean couldn’t hear any anger in Cas’ voice, just concern and confusion. Okay, at least that’s good.
“Nothing.” Nice. Denial should be his middle name.
He could feel rather than see Cas’ eye roll. “Dean.”
Right. Okay. “It’s just… well,” fuck, was it hot in here? Just spit it out Winchester “Idon’tlikeitwhenyouflirtwithothers.” Nailed it.
“What? Dean, I wasn’t flirting with anyone.” Cas’ confusion was more evident in his voice now. God, were they really going to have this conversation? Now, after all these years?
“Yes, you were, Cas. When you call people things like “darling” and “sweetheart”, they take it as flirting. I don’t like it,” Dean mumbled. He was dying on the inside.
“I still don’t see what’s wrong, Dean.” Fuck, that’s it.
“What’s wrong is that you’ve been calling random people these sweet names and you’ve never used them on me!” Dean was panting by the end of it and he could feel his eyes sting. Why couldn’t Cas see what he was doing to Dean? Stupid angel.
“Oh,” Cas said after what felt like 100 years. “I thought you wouldn’t like if I called you any of those names.”
What.
“Ca-what? All I’ve wanted is for you to call me that and look at me like…”
“Like what, Dean?” Did Cas sound hopeful? No, he couldn’t be, but Dean had to take the chance.
“Like you love me just like I love you,” Dean said so softly, he wasn’t sure Cas even hear him.
Then he felt soft lips against his. Cas’ lips. Holy shit. There were hands caressing his face softly while Cas’ mouth slowly worked with Dean’s. It was…It was amazing! He wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or laugh. He had wanted this for so long and he’d finally got it! God, it felt good. When they had parted for air - their foreheads pressing together - Cas had looked him right in the eye, love practically pouring from it and said-
Oblivious!Cas and Pining!Dean just Dean and Cas being friends for five years and housemates for three of them and Dean being so in love with his friend but not willing to lose Cas over it. Cas even found the picture of him that Dean keeps in his wallet a few months ago and thought it was adorable he was so sentimental about his best friend. Deans sure Cas would never feel the same way, the thoughts probably never crossed his mind.
Oh Cas, you completely adorable, oblivious thing!
The thing is the thought never has crossed Castiel’s mind. He’s so certain that Dean likes him as only a friend that he doesn’t let himself think about possibilities that couldn’t be.
People tease them that they’re an old married couple and that they’ll end up being the two old men rooming together at the retirement home and Cas will just smile because he knows someone is going to come along and snap Dean up, leaving him alone.
Description: Dean's got a crush on this freshman, Cas. He's working his way steadily along to asking him out, and then he finds out Cas is going on a goddamn date. Safe to say, he's not letting Cas go that easy.
