Canon Divergent AU from after the Final Battle in 15x19
The title pretty much sums it up.
It’s Called Flirting, Dumbass
Isola Virtuosa
- 1 -
Sam was sitting at the map table, beer in hand, looking at me incredulously.
“What?” I said with a shrug. “Everyone knows that I’m the better-looking Winchester.”
“I think that’s a matter of opinion,” he stated, rolling his eyes.
“Is it, though?” I asked. “Seein’ as how everyone has the same opinion?”
“And who is everyone, Dean?”
“Dean is objectively more attractive,” Cass put in without looking up from the book he was reading.
I gestured towards Cass with a smug grin. “See?” I told Sam.
“No way, nuh-uh, Cass’s opinion doesn’t count,” Sam said with a shake of his ridiculously shaggy head.
“Uhh, why the hell not?”
“Because he’s-” Sam started and stopped, quickly shutting his mouth.
“Because he’s an angel that’s older than dirt with the knowledge of the universe and crap?”
“I hardly possess all the knowledge of the uni-” Cass tried to protest.
“Nope, zip it,” I said, waving my beer at him. How many had I had already? I’d lost count at… eight…? “Angel opinion trumps all.”
“Okay, but he’s your… best friend,” Sam said tactfully. “Of course he’s gonna side with you.”
“If you were arguing over who was taller, I would obviously state that Sam is taller,” Cass said, setting his book down with a frown. “If you were arguing over who has more beautiful hair, I would obviously state that Sam has the most beautiful hair.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of me.
Cass ignored me and continued. “And if you were arguing over who was the most physically attractive, I would obviously state that it is Dean.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I said, flashing him a grin.
“I’m simply stating the facts,” he said, shifting in his chair.
Sam looked like he wanted to protest, but what could he say to that?
“Facts are facts, little brother,” I clucked at him.
“Cass’s opinion is hardly a fact.”
Cass turned his frowny squint on Sam. “Dean has better facial symmetry.”
“Okay…?”
“Physical attractiveness can be scientifically measured,” Cass explained. “Symmetry, distance between the eyes, distance between the eyes and mouth can all be easily calculated and compared. Dean’s numbers are better than yours.”
“Oof, science, bitch,” I cackled at Sam.
“Whatever,” he huffed in reply.
I turned to Cass, trying to share a victorious grin, but his eyes were on his book again.
It was only later, when I was drunkenly stumbling off to bed, that Sam pulled me aside. “You can’t be doing that, Dean.”
“What, going to bed?” I asked, trying to make my eyes focus on his disapproving expression.
“Dean,” he groaned, exasperated.
“Hey, man,” I started, ready to get defensive about letting off some steam by just having a few drinks.
“Cass is more sensitive than you think.”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, confused. “What’re we talkin’ ‘bout?”
He sighed loudly, turning into a complete priss. “Dean, you know how Cass feels about you, so why do you insist on taking advantage of him like that?”
“Woah, woah, woah,” I said, flailing my hands around in a way that was supposed to say ‘hold your horses’. “Who is taking advantage of Cass?” I protested.
Now Sammy’s eyes were rolling so hard into the back of his head that I could only see the whites of his eyes.
“Ya look like Lilith when you do that…” I commented.
Sam huffed and puffed and shoved his fairy tale princess hair out of his eyes.
“Look, no one here is…” I paused, looking up and down the hall before continuing, “taking advantage of anyone.”
“You are so oblivious.”
“I think you are just mad ’cause I’m totally more attractive than you,” I said, jabbing him in the chest with my finger.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Sam said, pushing my finger away. “Maybe we can have this conversation when you’re sober.”
“I’m not drunk,” I protested. I was pretty sure I couldn’t even get drunk anymore. Though, okay, maybe my head was feeling a little fuzzy at the moment, but I was just tired was all.
“Yeah, sure,” Sam muttered, because apparently I’d said all that out loud. “Not like you’re any less obtuse sober.”
“Whaddidju call me?” I asked, squinting at him.
“Good night, Dean.”
“Night, loser,” I grumbled after him as he ambled down the hall. I was ready to escape Sam’s cryptic bullshit and catch some z’s.
The thing was, there was something gnawing at the back of my mind that I couldn’t quite shake, even despite the overwhelming coziness of my memory foam mattress. I stared up at the dark ceiling, and for some reason Cass’s voice started echoing in my head.
Dean is objectively more attractive.
I passed out as soon as I closed my eyes, feeling strangely warm.
- 2 -
I could smell the coffee brewing as I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning.
“Good morning, Dean.”
I blinked blearily at Cass, grunted something that was probably a greeting, and sat down at the table.
“The coffee is almost ready,” he explained.
“Where’s Sam?” I groaned, rubbing a hand through my hair.
“Out for his run.”
“Ugh.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to get in a little exercise,” he pointed out.
I squinted at him for a long while. “You callin’ me fat?”
Cass just rolled his eyes, walking over to the cupboard and pulling down two mugs.
I rested my arms on the table and buried my face in them, wishing I was back in bed.
The sounds of a coffee cup being placed at my elbow perked me up enough to sit up properly.
Cass sat across from me, already sipping from his own cup.
“You’re an angel,” I informed him, taking the cup in my hands and inhaling deeply.
“And you are a human,” he replied drily.
I ignored the sass and took a big gulp, trying to chase away the previous night’s drinking. Not that I had a hangover or anything.
“Dean, I hope I wasn’t… inappropriate last night.”
I was starting to feel awake, and my eyes shot up to meet his. “Huh?”
“I just… you’ve been so gracious in extending your home to me, and I hope that I did not… make you uncomfortable by discussing my… attraction to you,” he said, picking out his words slowly.
“You’re… attracted to me…?” I asked intelligently.
“Dean,” he said in that way of his that conveyed disappointment, exasperation, and a touch of fondness.
“No, I mean…” I trailed off, because we hadn’t really talked about that thing that he said before he got swallowed up by the Empty.
Cass waited, raising his eyebrows at me.
I swallowed and looked down into my coffee. “I just… I get that you have, ya know, feelings and stuff, but I didn’t think you… I mean you’re kinda junkless and all.”
“I assure you that all my junk is in working order,” he informed me.
I didn’t really know what to do with that information, so I laughed nervously and drank my coffee. “Yeah? Then how come you never use it?”
“I’m sorry, have you been monitoring my genitals?” Cass asked.
Coffee came spewing out of my mouth and I hit my chest, coughing a few times to clear the pipes. “What?” I managed to squeak out.
“I was just wondering why you’re so certain about the amount of use my genitals experience.”
“Cass, man, c’mon, genitals?”
“I apologize, do you prefer ‘penis’? ‘Dick’? ‘Wee-wee’?”
I was grinning now, even though my cheeks felt oddly warm. “Yeah, definitely ‘wee-wee’.”
He gave me an unimpressed look.
I nudged his foot with mine under the table. “It’s not like you’re goin’ out and gettin’ laid every night.”
There was that raised eyebrow again.
“…are you…?” I tagged on uncertainly.
“I am not,” he affirmed.
“Yeah, see, I didn’t think so,” I said, rolling my eyes. I knew Cass better than anyone.
“There are other ways to… use one’s junk.”
I froze again before sputtering out a laugh. “You been spankin’ the monkey?”
“That’s animal abuse, Dean,” he said, but there was a sparkle in his eye.
I shook my head. “Jesus, now I’ve heard everything.” I tried not to think too hard about masturbating angels. “I need more coffee for this.”
Cass rose up, holding out his hand to me.
I blinked, handing him my cup.
He went over to the coffee pot and refilled it.
“You don’t gotta wait on me,” I said, accepting the mug from him.
“I like to,” he said with a shrug.
“Cass...” I trailed off, the coffee slowly re-starting my engine. “Before, you said... look, you know the bunker is your home, yeah? I’m not lettin’ you stay here or nothin’, it’s your home as much as it’s mine.”
“I know,” he said. His eyes met mine, his expression soft. “I’m just not used to orienting myself to one fixed coordinate in this plane of existence.”
Our gazes were lingering a little too long. “God, you’re weird,” I muttered so I could look away. Then I decided to make it even more awkward by asking, “so you really think I’m attractive?”
“Yes, Dean.”
“But like… physically?”
“Yes, Dean.”
“Yeah, but… really?”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
He just said it with a completely straight face, and I found myself biting my lip. “Guys don’t wanna be told that they’re beautiful, Cass.”
“Well I do not really care what ‘guys’ want to be told,” he said. “You’re beautiful, and I can say so if I want to.”
“You’re a real charmer,” I mumbled into my mug.
“I am not trying to… charm you,” he said with a frown. “I’m simply stating the truth.”
I grinned at that, ignoring the strange feeling in my stomach. “You got a little game after all.”
“Is that so?” Cass asked, looking pleased. Then worry started to take over his features again. “I’m not… making you uncomfortable?”
“Nah,” I replied easily. “Hard to object to the truth.”
“Indeed.”
“You want some breakfast?” I asked, ready to face the morning now that my second cup of coffee was done.
“That would be nice,” he humored me. He didn’t need to eat.
“Eggs, toast, and bacon coming right up,” I announced, then winced when standing made my head pound.
“I’ll help,” Cass offered, which was nice and all, but he wasn’t very good in the kitchen.
“You’re on toast duty,” I told him, moving to the fridge to get the other ingredients.
“It would be my honor,” he stated gravely.
I snorted and tossed the loaf of bread to him. Somehow, mundane things like toasting bread were just better with Cass around.
- 3 -
I was rocking out to AC/DC, waxing Baby in the garage, when Cass suddenly appeared behind me.
“Dean,” he declared urgently.
I startled, then laughed, straightening up. “Jesus, don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”
“Dean, I cannot find the veggie bacon.”
“Um, okay, sounds like a good thing to me.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Dean.”
“What would you even need that crap for?”
“I wanted to make lunch for Sam.”
“Uh, first of all, why?” I asked. “And second of all, would he even want to eat anything that you make?”
“So rude,” he huffed at me. “And for your information, Sam and Eileen have been having a… disagreement.”
“Whoa, whoa, what? The perfect lovey-dovey-never-have-problems-couple-of-the-year are having a disagreement and Sammy didn’t tell me?”
“Well, you tend to be judgmental,” Cass pointed out. “Not to mention obnoxious.”
“Wow, Cass, tell me how you really feel,” I muttered. I decided to get back to work, leaning over the hood to reach the center with the wax.
“I just did,” he pointed out.
I snorted, glancing at him over my shoulder. “So you think a sandwich with some fake-ass bacon’s gonna cheer him… up…?” I faltered as Cass’s eyes slid down my body and then shot back up to meet my eyes. “Did you just check out my ass?”
Cass swallowed. “Yes?”
I kind of didn’t know how to react that, so I went to my go-to coping mechanism, giving my ass a little shake. “Yeah? You like that?”
“Yes,” he said more confidently, tugging at his collar.
I cracked up, even as my face was probably flaming red, turning back to focus on the small circles I was rubbing over the hood. “You could try being more subtle, dude.”
“I apologize,” he said quickly. “It was… involuntary.”
“What, your eyes are magnets and my ass is the North Pole?”
“That’s ridiculous, Dean,” he gruffed at me. “Perhaps if you were not bent over your car so provocatively…”
“So now you’re blaming the victim?” I asked, shooting him another look.
Cass looked down, shifting uncomfortably.
“I’m just teasin’ you,” I assured him. “It’s fine, look all you like.”
“Did you just give me permission to… ogle you?”
“If that’s what floats your boat,” I said with a shrug, standing up straighter now as I finished waxing the far part of the hood. “I mean, apparently I’m so irresistible that you can’t control yourself.”
Cass was quiet.
I went over to get my microfiber cloth and started buffing where I’d waxed.
“Dean, really, I can… I can control myself,” he assured me.
I sighed, pausing in my work. “It’s fine, Cass. Don’t worry about it.”
“I worry a lot,” he said softly.
“Hey,” I said, and somehow I was suddenly standing in front of him, resting my hand on his shoulder. “You and me? We’re good right now. Better than we’ve ever been. We ain’t fightin’ about nothin’, as far as a I know?”
“I am equally unaware of any disputes between us,” he agreed. He hesitated. “But I’m making you uncomfortable.”
I thought about it. “Yeah, kinda.”
He looked crestfallen.
“But it’s not a bad… discomfort…” I rushed forward, trying to get that look off of his face.
“Dean, it is in the very definition of the word-”
“I don’t mind it, okay?” I interrupted him. “I… I don’t mind it,” I repeated.
He gave me a funny look.
“Look, I ain’t gettin’ any younger, and I think my best days are kinda behind me,” I tried to explain. “So knowin’ that you’re, ya know, into me or whatever, it’s… kinda… nice…?”
“So I give you an ego boost?” he asked, looking sardonic.
“…yes…?”
“Alright,” he said, relaxing. “I shall… continue to boost your ego, as long as… you’ll tell me if I cross a line?”
“Yeah, of course, buddy,” I said, patting him on the shoulder again.
He gazed into my eyes, then nodded. “About the veggie bacon…”
“I fed it to the squirrels.”
“You fed it… to the… squirrels…?”
“Yep.”
“I see.”
“Just use real bacon. It’ll help Sammy man up.”
“That is not… Dean you are a problematic human being.”
“I try,” I said with a wink.
“You have been most unhelpful,” he said, turning to leave.
“At least you got a free show,” I threw over my shoulder as I crouched down by the car to start waxing again.
“Yes, the displaying of your hindquarters was certainly illuminating,” he agreed, pushing the door open. “I would assess that they are in excellent condition for riding.”
I sputtered at that, not really sure if I was being insulted or hit on, but feeling oddly pleased.
- 4 -
It had been a couple of weeks since we’d gotten hammered the last time, so I dragged Sammy and Cass out to my favorite dive bar just outside of Lebanon.
I didn’t tend to shit where I ate, so I avoided hustling pool there, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t still get a few friendly games in.
Also, playing pool with Cass was hilarious.
“Dean, I seem to have hit the incorrect ball again.”
I knew that he was playing dumb, but I tried not to think about it too much. It was like going to Disneyland and obsessing over Mickey Mouse being some 26-year-old theater nerd who still lived with his parents. Gotta keep your sense of magic somehow.
“Cass, you’re stripes, man,” I said, clucking my tongue as I moved around the table, figuring out my next shot.
“I will try to remember that,” he assured me.
Of course, on his next turn, he completely whiffed it.
“I just cannot seem to be able to handle a stick,” he said, blinking up at me innocently.
“Cass, c’mon,” I said, shaking my head at him.
He blinked some more.
“You need me to… help you handle your stick?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
“That would be very helpful, Dean.”
I continued to shake my head, even as I was coming up beside Cass at the table, leaning in closer and guiding his hand into the correct position on the cue.
“This is very helpful,” Cass assured me.
“Mm-hm.”
“Oh, yes, I think I understand how to handle my stick now.”
“You’re killin’ me, here,” I said, because Cass and double entendres were not two things I thought would ever intersect in my life. Also, I knew he wanted me to laugh, and I wanted to laugh, so I did. “C’mon, take this seriously.”
“I’m taking this very seriously,” he told me, leaning his hip into mine.
I opened my mouth to tell him that I’d given him permission to ogle, not to flirt, but then I immediately shut it because if I said that out loud, then he’d stop. And maybe I didn’t want him to stop.
Cass smiled at me easily, his hip warm against mine.
I didn’t mind. I liked Cass happy. If this made Cass happy, then I was going to keep Cass happy. “You gonna start hitting the ball right?” I asked. resting a hand on his waist while my other hand lingered over his on the cue.
“If you show me how to do it properly,” he agreed.
“Okay, you wanna pull it back like this,” I said, guiding him, “and then you take your shot like this.”
“Ohhh, I see,” Cass said, moving with me to sink the 11 ball easily into the pocket.
“See, easy peasy,” I said, my hand still lingering on his waist. I drew it away slowly as I moved out of his personal space.
“Indeed,” he agreed, jumping the 13 ball over the 8 ball to send it straight into the side pocket.
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“I had a good teacher,” he informed me, going on to sink the next ball, and the next, before declaring, “8-ball, corner pocket,” and pocketing it easily.
“I think you’ve been hustled, sweetheart,” an older woman sitting at a nearby table hooted at me.
“Don’t I know it,” I said, shooting her a wink. “Okay, Cass, double or nothing.”
“We weren’t betting anything, so double of nothing is in fact nothing.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, help me rack.”
He looked very pleased with himself as he pulled the balls out of the pockets and helped put them in the rack. “It’s a game of math.”
“Mm-hm,” I agreed, lining up the rack on the foot spot.
“I’m very good at math.”
“Ya sure are. This time’s my break, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Great, and no more slop, okay? Call shots only,” I said, pulling my cue back to break.
“Are we feeding pigs?” Cass asked, squinting at me.
“You gotta say which pocket you’re aimin’ for,” I explained. “Slop’s when ya just, ya know, lazily hit the balls wherever.”
“I was hardly-”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, executing a picture-perfect break. “I’m solids again.”
Cass’s head tilted to the side.
I winked at him and called my first shot. And the next and the next, effortlessly making the difficult shots I was calling. I felt a strange attack of nerves when I called the 8-ball, realizing that I was showing off and that I didn’t want to screw it up at the very end, but nerves have always worked for me, and I still pulled off the shot, sweaty palms and all.
For getting his ass completely handed to him, Cass looked weirdly happy.
“That’s what you call a break and run,” I said, throwing a companionable arm around his shoulder and directing him towards the bar.
“It was very impressive,” he assured me.
“Only way I can beat the giant math nerd.”
“Not bad, honey,” the older woman complimented me as we walked by.
“Can’t hustle a hustler,” I told her with a grin.
Sammy was at the bar, engrossed in conversation with two guys who were actually wearing pocket protectors in a friggin’ bar.
“Next round’s on Sammy,” I declared loudly, slapping my hands down on the bar next to him.
“Dude,” he said, giving me an annoyed look.
“You’re the one who ditched us,” I said with a shrug, “so you gotta buy the drinks.”
“Oh, right, I ditched you,” he muttered, being the sassy bitch we all loved to hate, but then he motioned to the bartender. “Two more for them.”
“Thank you Sam,” Cass said, always the bastion of politeness.
“No problem,” he replied with a nod before turning back to his dorky pals.
I frowned at his back, then turned to Cass.
“Here ya go, gents,” the bartender said, sliding our beers over to us.
I nodded at her and immediately took a very long drink. “Oh, yeah, that hits the spot.”
“The froth is an interesting… texture,” Cass decided.
“Yeah, yeah, beer doesn’t do anything for you.”
“I still enjoy the experience of drinking it together with you,” he said with overwhelming sincerity.
“Dork,” I muttered, even as I was smiling into my glass. “So on a scale of 1 to 10, how hot was me trouncing you at pool?”
“At least an 11,” he said with an amused look.
“Yeah?”
“I mean, it was almost as hot as me trouncing you at pool.”
“Oh, so you were at like a 12?” I asked with a snort.
“You tell me,” he hummed, eyes meeting mine evenly.
I swallowed. “Uh, yeah, totally a 12, Cass. Babe of the year,” I squeaked out, my sarcasm not quite having the effect I wanted. “Hey, you about ready to head home?”
“Whenever you’re ready, Dean,” he assured me.
I swallowed again.
Whenever I was ready.
- 5 -
“Thanks for making me your third wheel last night,” Sam grumbled at me as he came into the kitchen the next morning.
“Who was a third wheel?” I asked incredulously.
“Me,” he declared, pulling down a mug and bringing it over to the coffee pot. “If you wanna take Cass on a date, just man up and ask instead of dragging me along as cover.”
“Shut up,” I growled at him. “You were the one on the man date with your little nerd friends.”
“Daryl and Tony are cool guys,” Sam said, leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee.
“You guys gonna play Dungeon and Dragons in Tony’s Mom’s basement next time?”
“Maybe,” he declared as he shook his princess hair out of his eyes. “You gonna be the Dungeon Master?”
“Dork.”
Sam shrugged off of the counter and headed out of the kitchen.
He was so annoying sometimes.
It was a little while later that Cass came in, giving me that bright smile that had somehow started looking natural on his face lately.
“Good morning, Dean.”
“Mornin’,” I greeted him. I could feel my own mouth creeping up into a smile.
It was infectious, dammit.
“Did you sleep well?” he inquired, pouring his coffee and coming over to sit next to me.
“Alright, I guess.”
I felt Cass’s knee nudge against mine.
I let it stay there. “You have fun last night?”
“I did,” he said, looking pleased.
“Me, too,” I said, and there was that stupid smile creeping across my face again.
“It’s always enjoyable to spend time with you,” he admitted. “However, I feel that we may not have done a very good job of cheering Sam up about his tiff with Eileen.”
“Is that why we went out?”
“I believe that is the excuse you used, yes.”
“Huh.”
“But then we… ‘ditched’ Sam.”
“He ditched us for those two weirdos.”
“Dean, he did not strike up conversation with those two gentlemen until after we left him at the bar to engage in a round of billiards.”
“Whatever,” I groaned.
“It’s not ‘whatever’,” Cass said with a frown. “Your communication with Sam lately has not been very good.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Phil, do we need to sit in a circle and talk about our feelings?”
“Sarcasm is not necessary. I’m just worried.”
“Well don’t be.”
Cass sighed, his leg still pressed snug to mine, and at some point his hand had settled on my knee.
Now that I’d noticed it, I kinda couldn’t un-notice it, but it’d be weird if I brought it up out of the blue, right?
Cass gave me one of his damn head tilts. “You’re tensing up.”
“It’s nothing,” I told him through gritted teeth. “Drink your coffee.”
“I will drink it at the pace that I desire,” he said with a frown.
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Your attitude is not appreciated.”
“You gonna do something about it?” I asked with a snort, picking up my coffee mug.
He straight up just pinched me on the thigh.
“Jesus!” I hissed, spilling coffee all over the table.
“I think I’ll have my coffee now,” Cass hummed, looking pleased with himself. He lifted up his mug and took a long drink.
I gaped at him.
Cass drained his cup and clunked it down on the table with a satisfied grunt.
“What crawled up your ass?!” I growled.
“Clearly nothing,” he said, giving me a pointed look.
I did not understand what was going on, and I’d only just realized that when Cass pinched me, his hand had move from my knee to my thigh, and was somehow just resting there like that was where it belonged. “You’re a real piece of work today,” I muttered, looking into the dregs of my cup. What else was there to do when obviously Cass had lost his mind.
Sam cleared his throat, coming back into the kitchen.
How long had he been standing in the doorway?
“Thought you went for your run, nature boy,” I said, grasping for any conversational straw I could find.
“Forgot my water,” he said, grabbing his water bottle and taking it to the sink to fill it. When he finished, he turned around to face us again, then frowned. “What’s all over the table?”
I blinked down at the spilled coffee. “Oh, uh, Cass made a mess.”
“It was Dean,” Cass rebutted.
“Yeah, but you’re the one who-”
“I don’t wanna hear it,” Sam said, and with that he just left.
“Who pissed in his cornflakes?” I complained, reluctantly getting up.
Cass’s hand slid down my thigh, and then it was gone.
Good. Who wanted awkward touching with their best friend?
I got a towel and wiped off the table, returning everything back to normal.
- 6 -
“You ready to go already?” I complained at Sam.
He held up a finger, then turned his back on me, returning to his hushed phone conversation.
“You know that cell phones are this futuristic device that you can actually bring in the car and continue your conversation as though you never left home,” I pointed out. Jody had called us to Sioux Falls for a haunting, and I was anxious to get on the road. We hadn’t taken a case in a while.
“I think he would like some privacy,” Cass pointed out.
“Is this like when Sammy hit puberty and discovered the wonders of jerkin’ the gherkin?”
“No, Dean, this is not like that,” Cass said with a shake of his head.
“Well are you at least ready to go?” I asked, resting my arms on the roof of the car so I could look at Cass standing on the other side.
“Seeing as how I do not need to change my clothing or participate in any human bathing rituals, yes, I believe I am ready,” he said, holding up his empty hands.
“You get shotgun then,” I said, sliding the driver’s side door open and getting behind the wheel.
“I do?”
“Yep.”
Cass seemed pleased as he took the seat next to me.
I rolled down the window. “C’mon already, we’re gonna leave without you.”
Sam made a stupid face at me and continued talking.
I started backing the car up.
He didn’t even bat an eyelash. The damn smarmy bastard knew I wasn’t going to leave without him.
Hunting was him and me.
And sometimes Cass.
And this time Claire and Jody.
And possibly Patience and Kaia?
But hunting really came down to me and Sammy.
Mostly.
So I waited, while still giving him as much shit as possible, until he finally came over to the car.
He tossed his bag in the trunk and went to get in on the passenger side, only to stop when he saw Cass.
“Get a move on, Sasquatch,” I said.
Sam rolled his eyes at me and got in the back.
“Finally,” I groaned, pulling out and letting my baby purr.
“Were you able to work things out?” Cass asked, glancing back at Sam.
“It’s not that simple, Cass,” he replied.
“Or perhaps humans make things too complicated.”
Sam rubbed his face with his hand. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure you will,” Cass agreed.
“Sammy’s still not getting’ any?” I decided to contribute.
Sam sighed loudly from the back.
“Dean, while it is not in your nature, it would be helpful to show more sensitivity to your brother’s situation,” Cass scolded me.
“I’m totally sympathetic, man,” I protested. “Not getting laid is no joke.”
“It must be difficult for you as well, then,” he commented.
“I get laid,” I said, offended “Ain’t nobody gotta worry about me.”
“I’m a little worried,” Cass confessed.
“Excuse you?”
“Well, every time we go out to a bar lately, you always spend all your time with me instead of finding a female companion to have intercourse with.”
“‘Intercourse’?” I mouthed at Sam in the rearview mirror, but he just rolled his eyes at me, still looking sulky.
“Dean, has your recent high alcohol consumption perhaps negatively affected your sex drive?” Cass inquired.
“Dude, no,” I scoffed at him. “Nothin’ wrong with nothin’, all systems are ready to go.”
“So why haven’t you found a partner?” he persisted.
“Ain’t you gonna get jealous if I ditch you for some chick?”
“Yes, obviously,” he said. “But I’m used to it.”
“Yeah?” I asked, my eyes sliding to him and then quickly back to the road. “You the jealous type?”
“Yes,” he rumbled in that ridiculously deep voice of his. “It seems I am.”
I could feel his eyes on me, and suddenly my mouth was dry. “Oh.”
He was studying my face carefully now. “Does it bother you?”
“Nah,” I said, trying to sound casual and probably failing miserably. It was just such a strange thing to think about, Cass being jealous of the women I picked up. Because he wanted to…
I swallowed loudly.
“You promised me you would tell me if I ‘cross’ a line,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, I will,” I said with a nod. I flicked my eyes to meet his briefly, flashing him a reassuring smile.
Cass’s expression was soft, his eyes crinkling with warmth.
It was a nice expression.
I bit my lip, looking ahead at the road again.
“Get a room,” Sam muttered from the back.
I’d forgotten he was there and it freaked me out for a second, but a quick glance in the rearview mirror told me that he had his face buried in his phone and was barely paying attention to us.
It was just him being an annoying little brother.
It didn’t mean anything.
- 7 -
Jody’s house was… loud.
“Or maybe you’re just gettin’ old, kiddo,” Jody informed me with a snort.
“Does anyone wanna hear that Billie Eilish mumblin’ after they been diggin’ up graves all night?” I complained.
“You claim to not like it, and yet you know so much about it,” Claire hummed, grabbing another beer out of the fridge and moving back towards the living room.
I rolled my eyes. “Know who Celine Dion is, doesn’t mean I wanna listen to her secretly in my headphones like Sammy’s always doin’.”
“The lady doth protesteth too much,” she declared, disappearing back into the noise.
“I am neither a lady nor protesteth-ing,” I muttered.
“Did Claire just make a Shakespeare reference?” Jody asked with a squint.
“She does actually read,” I pointed out. “Though the quote was kinda off…”
Jody sighed.
I knew that sigh. It was the ‘I wish Claire would go back to school’ sigh, and it always gave me complicated feelings.
Patience came into the kitchen before I had to think too much about it, flicking her eyes over the two of us before asking, “are you two going to stay in here all night?”
“Preferably,” I said.
“Someone’s gotta keep our guest company,” Jody said, like she actually wanted to go in that living room and drink Smirnoff ices with a bunch of 20-somethings and Sam while listening to chick music.
Patience gave a live-and-let-live shrug and went back to the living room.
“So,” Jody said, and suddenly I realized that ‘I wish Claire would go back to school’ look was directed at me, which made no sense unless, “ever start to think you’re getting a little too old for grave digging?”
“You’re the one who called us in,” I pointed out.
“It was an easy enough salt-and-burn.”
“Yeah, easy after digging up three wrong graves,” I groaned, rubbing my shoulder. Everything ached. “You sayin’ you called us out on a case to tell us we’re too old to be takin’ cases?”
“Just starting a conversation,” she said. “Sam and Eileen…”
“What about them?” I muttered, peeling at the label on my beer.
“Seems like maybe living in an underground bunker with the brother-in-law might not be their ideal future together,” she said, leaning back in her chair and trying to catch my eye.
I continued to shred the label. “It’s a free country.”
She sighed, loud and knowing, but whatever she wanted to say was cut off by Cass appearing beside me.
“I was able to remove the evidence from the police locker, so they will not be pursuing Claire,” he said.
“Thanks, Cass,” Jody said with a nod.
“Of course,” he said solemnly.
“Man of the hour,” I announced, slapping him on the back. “C’mon, sit down and take a load off.”
“I have not bore any load,” he said, but he sat down next to me anyway.
“You want somethin’ to drink?” I offered.
“Whatever you are drinking.”
I got up and went over to the fridge, grabbing two beers since mine was almost done. I passed one bottle to Cass as I sat back down and we did a little cheers before popping open the bottles and taking a drink.
Jody was looking at me, her brow furrowed.
“Got somethin’ on my face?” I asked with a snort.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said.
I definitely minded, but Cass decided to take that moment to wax poetic about the cruelty-free vegan chapstick that was sitting on the table.
I found myself sinking more comfortably into my chair, all the sharp edges of the day blunting pleasantly. I finished my beer, and Cass got up to get me another one, and one for Jody as well.
“Here you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the bottle after he passed it to me, our fingers nestled together.
I mean…
“Thanks,” I said, pulling the bottle out of his hold and pretending that we hadn’t basically been holding hands.
“My pleasure.”
My eye twitched at that.
“Huh,” Jody mused.
“Huh what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Nothin’, just thinking,” she said breezily.
“About?” I prompted.
“Vegan chapstick,” she said, eyes flicking between me and Cass.
“Whatever,” I mumbled, slouching back into my chair and attempting to get my mellow vibe back.
“We have to think about the bees,” Cass stated solemnly.
I bit my lip, trying to stop the easy grin from spreading across my face and failing.
But Cass grinned back at me, and that didn’t seem so bad.
- 8 -
Apparently partying with adolescent girls was hard, because Sammy was still passed out on the couch, snoring away, when I woke up the next morning.
“Got your four hours?” Jody asked with a raised eyebrow when I plodded into the kitchen.
“Four and a half, I slept in.”
Jody shook her head, pulling down another mug from the cupboard and filling it with coffee.
“You’re an angel,” I told her, accepting the mug gratefully.
“An angel, huh?”
I wasn’t awake enough to deal with her judgement, so I drank my coffee instead.
“Dean…”
“It’s too damn early for that tone.”
“And what tone would that be?’
“The ‘I gotta teach you a life lesson’ tone.”
Jody snorted at that. “Really? There’s a tone for that?”
“Yep.”
“Well, then guess I better teach you a life lesson,” she said. “There’s more to life than hunting.”
“Wow, really?” I fake marveled. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“Don’t be an ass,” she scolded me, kicking the leg of my chair.
“It’s what I do,” I said with a shrug.
“Dean.”
“Whaddya want from me, Jods?”
“I want to have an honest conversation without all your little deflections.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it because I didn’t want to prove her right by deflecting again.
She looked at me, really looked at me. “I’m not gonna waste my breath even suggesting you get out of the life. You and me, we don’t… we can’t pretend we don’t know what goes bump in the night. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have more.”
“I tried the whole white picket fence thing,” I said, shaking my head.
“I’m not saying… look, your life is your own Dean,” she pushed forward. “It’s not your mother’s or your father’s or even Sam’s, it’s yours. You don’t have to live your life for anyone else, you don’t have to live according to anyone else’s expectations. The white picket fence didn’t work for you, then maybe you don’t need a white picket fence. But that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing else out there. I never thought I’d have kids again after,” she hesitated, tripping over the words, “Owen. Never dreamed it. Now here I am with a house full of ‘em. And I’m happy, Dean. I’m at peace. And sometimes I take a case, and a lot of times my girls take a case, and we’re always gonna be in the life, but we have something more than that.”
“I’ve got Sammy.”
“Dean.”
I didn’t know how she could put so much disappointment into my name, but there it was. “Why can’t that be good enough?” I challenged her.
“Because you’re not happy,” she said. “Because you’re just waiting for a case to come along that ends it all.”
I clenched my jaw.
“I’m not gonna sit back quietly and wait for you to destroy yourself.”
I looked away from her, my eyes stinging. It was too damn early for this existential bullshit. “I’m fine, Jody,” I gritted out.
“No, you’re not,” she said, leaning forward and trying to catch my eye. “Hunting isn’t all you are. You don’t have to get married or have kids if that’s not what you’re looking for. You could start selling those amazing pies you’ve been baking. You could open a junkyard and fix cars all day. You could volunteer for Big Brothers and help out some struggling kids. You have so much to offer this world.”
“Okay,” I said, hoping that would get her to stop talking.
“We’re all worried,” she said softly.
“I get it,” I muttered.
“I wish you did,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I wish you could see how exceptional you are.”
I scoffed at that.
Jody grabbed me by the ear.
“Ow, Jesus.”
“You’re exceptional, but you’re also a little shit.”
I couldn’t help but crack a grin up at her.
She sighed loudly and let go of my ear. “At least Cass puts a little sense into you,” she muttered.
“Is that what he puts in him?” Claire asked from where she was leaning against the door frame.
I froze.
Why did she say that?
“Claire,” Jody groaned, directing all her mom-attitude at Claire instead of me.
“You save any coffee for me?” she asked, flouncing into the kitchen and ignoring Jody’s disapproval with an awakeness only possible with youth.
Jody was still frowning at her but nodded her head towards the coffee maker. “I’ll get some eggs goin’ in a sec.”
“Great,” she said, taking the last of the coffee and shuffling out of the kitchen.
Jody turned her gaze back on me, her brow scrunching up.
I was perfectly fine and I didn’t need her concern. And Claire was just making a stupid joke and I certainly wasn’t bothered by that at all, because why would I care that she just implied, “Cass and me aren’t…”
Her brow scrunched up even more, before her expression softened in understanding.
That was almost worse.
“Whatever you and Cass are is your business.”
“Yeah, but we’re not…” I trailed off, not even wanting to say it out loud. “We’re best friends,” I settled on. “Family,” I added.
“I’m glad he’s back,” she said, letting me off the hook as she pulled the eggs from the fridge.
“Yeah,” I agreed, relaxing a little. “I missed the little nerd when he was gone.”
“You two are better together,” Jody commented offhandedly. She started cracking the eggs over a bowl, then paused. “How many are you and Sam gonna eat?”
“Feedin’ that Sasquatch?” I said with a shake of my head. “At least two, more if he’s not on one of his hippie ‘I’m a fake vegan’ kicks.”
“How are you two related?” she murmured, going back to cracking eggs.
“Pretty sure Sammy was switched at birth,” I confided in her.
“That is biologically impossible,” Cass commented, appearing beside me.
Jody startled, smashing an egg too hard and clearly getting shell in the bowl.
“Apologies,” Cass said quickly.
“Okay, but have you looked at us?” I continued. “I mean… do we look related?”
“You are both the true vessels of archangels,” he said with a frown. “How many bloodlines do you think-”
“But I’m sayin’, do we look alike?” I interrupted him, not wanting to listen to logic. “I mean, he’s so freakishly tall. And that hair!”
“You take after Mary,” Cass said, squinting at me. “Sam takes after your father.”
“But is it the same father?!”
Cass rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face.
Jody saw.
Jody knew.
Whatever.
Cass was my best friend, and being around him made me happy.
