Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean has an obsession. It’s borderline crazy sometimes, as obsessions tend to get. Sometimes he spends hours behind it, frantically investigating.

Dean stalks Chuck Shurley.

Strange isn’t it? He has so many other – better – things to do with his time. But ever since Chuck and Amara left (and to be honest, ever since he saw himself full frontal in those books) he’s been ‘keeping an eye out’ frantically and obsessively of course, for any new information. Chuck has published a few books online before taking off and he’d devoured them in a few days. Sure, the books barely revealed anything invasive emotionally but he still didn’t want the whole fan-base to be reading about the size and grit of his dick.

So it’s shocking when he sees a new one appear. Because he’d signed up for all the alerts and pre-alerts.

‘How To Take Care Of Your Guardian Angel’

The blurb tells him that ‘Castiel’ has gained a large following so he decided to write a book specifically about the angel. Supposedly it contains information about all the angels, but some special side notes about Castiel also.

He shouldn’t… Dean clicks purchase.

Nothing to feel bad or guilty about; he’s just covering his bases. New information. Completely not spying or infringing Cass’ privacy.

Okay, well maybe he is – will be.

But damn it!

The poor guy had said yes to Lucifer. The Devil. If that wasn’t a sign that something is wrong he doesn’t know what is.

Dean has loads of free time now anyway. With the whole The Darkness vs The Light crisis averted, his mom back, Sammy rescued from British psycho-bitch and Cass hanging around the bunker with them… well, there’s never been a more perfect time to try out some of the stuff in that book.

…

He wants to deny that he waits near his laptop like a complete fangirl for the notification that his package has arrived. There’s really no other way to describe it though.

When he’s away from the laptop, he does some family bonding.

Movie night, games, cooking. The works.

Some shocking things had been revealed, especially in regard to his mother’s cooking. For shame. Sammy’s hair is longer than ever, dudes probably aiming for Rapunzel length hair, and Dean has to curb the urge to sneak into his room at night and get to work. He could blame it on mom. Dean’s pretty sure Sam’s hair is longer than hers now, he could say she’s jealous. Or Cass, have him say he got bored at night. Dean grins, imagining the angel explain that to Sam in his matter of fact tone.

“You’re sure they’re not…?” Mary’s voice is uncertain.

Sam chuckles and Dean can practically hear the hair flip, “C’mon mom. I’m positive nothing’s going on there.”

“It’s just that… what I saw – Sam it didn’t look like just another friendly encounter.”

What she’d seen? “Hey!” he calls in greeting, “What’s going on where?”

Mom opens her mouth eagerly but Sam holds his hand up, “She found your Dr Sexy tapes in your room.”

“Oh.” Dean says in realisation, “Trust me, it’s better when you see it spoiler free.” But in his mind he’s trying to remember if he left any of his porn out. It’d been a few days. Mom finding his stash is probably the last thing she needs to help her adjust to this whole having two grown ass sons jam.

She nods, still a bit uncertain. “Can I help with dinner tonight?” she asks.

He wants to say no. But her hopeful expression stills his tongue. “You’re prohibited from anything to do with fire though.”

“That’s probably for the best.” She mutters, “I don’t feel like burnt food tonight.”

“Sammy.” He calls over, already moving to set out the ingredients, “Check with Cass, see if he wants dinner.”

Wordlessly Sam nods and exits.

“Castiel told me that angels don’t need to eat.”

Dean shrugs, “Yea, that’s true. Sometimes he likes the molecules though.”

“Oh.”

…

After overstaying her welcome in the kitchen, Mary walks through the bunker halls. She’d spent almost a day trying not to get so turned around. She spots Dean’s door and walks past it to Castiel’s room, just a few doors down.

She knocks twice firmly. Nothing happens so she presses an ear to the door. Hmm, still quiet. The door opens abruptly, causing her to jump back in fear.

The angel frowns at her, cocking his head. “Sorry.” She mutters. “I couldn’t tell if you were actually in there.”

He gives her a tight lipped smile, “Dean often tells me that he should ‘put a bell on me.’”

She almost bursts into laughter as she imagines stoic Castiel wearing a cow bell.  “Dinner’s ready.” She says instead. Mary still isn’t as comfortable around Castiel as her sons. She suspects that it has something to do with the many years they’d already spent together. Angels were watching over her boys… well, at least, one seemingly loyal one.

“Dean says you like to taste the molecules.” She comments, breaking the silence during their walk.

The angel shifts, “It’s… honestly, don’t tell Dean, but it isn’t the molecules. Food tastes horrid.” Yea, she isn’t telling that to Dean, especially since he’s under the impression that the angel actually likes them. “Dean makes me eat restaurant food sometimes.” Yea, she can’t imagine anyone making an angel do anything, “It’s not the same.” Castiel takes a breath, “Dean’s cooking though. He cooks for people he cares about. It’s not quite the molecules…”

“What is it then?” she asks, genuinely interested.

He stops walking, as though trying to figure it out himself, “It’s like the saying ‘made with love.’ I can taste how much care Dean takes to make the food. It’s nice, especially since he isn’t very emotional otherwise.”

“That isn’t what I saw.” The words come out unbidden.

Castiel’s heavenly glare tells her she should have dropped it, like Sam asked. But she’d been so sure.

“What did you see?” his voice is low, dangerous.

“How Dean reacted when he saw me hold a gun to you.”

He sighs, “Dean knows that a gun won’t hurt me.”

“The way you looked at him.”

He huffs, “I thought he’d just died in an atomic explosion of pure soul energy Mary.”

True, true. But she’d read the books… even a few fanfictions. She’s playing catch up in her boys’ life after all. So what if she needs a bit of a cheat sheet? Mary saw Castiel, over and over give everything up for her sons – Dean. She’s read about him offering to follow him to their collective deaths without a moments thought.

If that wasn’t true companionship she doesn’t know what could be.

“Sam can deny it all he wants, and I might not have known you for a long time.” she shouldn’t continue, especially given his expression darkens by the second, “Don’t tell me otherwise Castiel; I know what love is.”

“You,” he spits the word like poison, “You know nothing. Nothing! Don’t bother Dean with such pointless musings.”

Mary looks at him. She really looks. Past the anger… is fear. The angel is terrified by love.

…

Castiel’s breath trembles as he marches away from Mary Winchester. His head whorls with what this could mean. He’s managed to go years without drawing attention from Sam and Dean. Every being they’d ever met - friend or enemy – had poked fun at Castiel’s affections. But the Winchesters, they were too adverse to the idea of being loved by someone so new in their lives… they’d never believed a word. They’d never noticed. And he was thankful for their oversight.

It allowed him to maintain his position – though precarious – as Dean’s friend and confidant.

If Dean found out things would never right between them. He’d see Castiel as he’d seen every woman who sought his attention. He’d push him away, even more than usual. Dean would never share his true thoughts on anything… not if he knew.

Castiel won’t survive being told to leave again. Things had just began to feel normal. Dean had given him a room. Carved a place out for him inside the bunker, Dean’s home. Dean would be betrayed to know about his feelings… disgusted even, after all he had destroyed in the brother’s lives. He couldn’t live with Dean’s revulsion for him seared into his grace.

Castiel sits at the table, eyeing Mary, the ticking time bomb. She looks back.

Castiel cannot read her expression. Not one bit.

So he prays. Prays to his father… to Chuck… please don’t let them know.

Chapter Text

Tracking on the package tells Dean that it’s held up because of a snow storm.

He almost smashes the laptop in frustration. Could these people be any more useless?

Now, more than ever, Dean is convinced that he made the right choice in buying the book. Last night at dinner Cass had acted like a stranger. Barely speaking, eyes darting left and right or remaining completely focused on his plate. Dean had tried to talk to him during dinner and even after, to watch a movie, but he’d refused without any real reason.

At the moment, Dean has two options: get his dick out for some fun or go check on Cass. What does he even do at night? He can’t just sit in the darkness. Just a few steps down the hall and he’s at the door. He raps twice, not wanting to wake everyone else up.

The door creeks open and Cass eyes him in surprise. “Dean? Is something wrong.”

“No.” he assures, trying to scrupulously peek into the room, “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to check up on you.” Cass says nothing and Dean feels like an annoyance, “You were acting strange at dinner.”

“Oh. It’s fine.”

Right. “Y’know Cass, when someone says ‘it’s fine,’ it never usually is. Talk to me.”

Cue shifty eyes and twitching. “I just want to be alone Dean.”

What if he really does want to be alone? What if by pushing and pushing, Dean makes him feel as though he doesn’t have any privacy. What if angels need space sometimes? What if at night is the only time he gets any peace and quiet, and now Dean is here, disrupting it all? This is why he needs the damn book. Pronto.

Cass isn’t okay. Dean feels like he should press; ask to come in maybe. Cass wouldn’t say no. But that is the problem. Cass would let him in, even if he doesn’t really want to. Dean can’t risk driving him away. He knows that if Cass stops feeling safe – at peace – in the bunker, there’s not one thing that can stop him from just leaving.

Dean can’t risk it.

…

“Morning!” Sam calls, stalking into the kitchen. His eyes are glued to his tablet, already mapping out what they need for the case. “Guys, I found –”

He breaks off, taking in the thickening tension. Sam seems to be the only one out of the loop.

Dean leans against the stove, frying eggs and talking non-stop to Cass about some cow-boy movie he thinks they should watch. Cass just stands there sullenly, nodding at intervals. Sam can see the smile slipping off Dean’s face, but he doesn’t let up, seemingly determined to make the angel talk. Mom sits on the far end of the table, her elbows propped on it with a mug of coffee staring intently at them both.

Sam sighs loudly, sitting next to her. “You didn’t bother them with that insane theory, did you?”

She looks determined, “It isn’t crazy Sam.”

“Mom.” He suddenly feels like a nagging teenager, “I’ve been here for almost ten years with them. Trust me. There’s nothing there.”

Dean and Cass are friends. The only friend Dean has a matter of fact. Sam is a bit envious of their dynamic at times, but he is happy that his brother has someone outside of him to talk to and share things with.

“Dean is probably the straightest man on the planet.” He adds. Sure, freaking out over Dr Sexy didn’t scream straight, but Dean is allowed one guy crush; everyone has one. “I’ve never seen him with a guy.” And sure, people liked to joke, but Sam know, and Dean knows… it’s just that: a joke.

Mom still shakes her head, stubbornly and Sam feels like he’s talking to a brick wall, “You didn’t see it.”

No he didn’t see it. But he knows how distressed Cass had been after Dean left… Sam had shared in the sentiment. “I would have hugged him too. Cass thought he had died horrifically.”

“Maybe.”

Sam knows she hasn’t dropped it. “You don’t have a mother’s eyes Sam.”

He sighs, “No. I guess not. But please… please, don’t bring it up with Dean.” She raises an eyebrow, interested, “Last time I joked about it, he got really weird. We finally have some time without a world ending crisis on our hands; let Dean have some peace.” Sam almost laughs at how up tight and defensive Dean had gotten when he mentioned ‘Deastiel’ or ‘DeanCass.’ Much less ‘Samstiel.’

‘Sastiel’ does have a nice ring to it too.

However, he means what he said, about not pestering Dean. They’d all been through a lot. Some peace would do them good. That’s why Sam is passing this case right along, to another hunter.

…

Mary catches sight of Sam’s tablet.

“Is that a case?” she perks up, leaning in to have a closer look.

Hmm. A couple, dead at a convention. Nothing screamed supernatural about that.

“A case?” Castiel is suddenly behind Sam, leaving Mary to wonder how long he’d been standing there.

By now Dean perks up too. So much for peace. “Yea.” Sam fidgets, “I was going to pass it along to another hunter.”

“Hey!” Mary exclaims, pointing, “That’s ‘Supernatural.’”

Dean spits his coffee and Castiel looks him over, unamused.

“How do you know about that?” Sam demands, looking as shaken as Dean.

Unconsciously, her eyes flit over to Castiel. It’s just for a second, but Dean picks it up right away. “Friggin’ hell Cass!” he punches the immovable angel. Dean lowers his voice but Mary can still hear just enough, “I’m full frontal in there Cass, and you gave it to my mom.”

“Um.” Castiel looks around helplessly, “I left that book out.”

“Thank Chuck.”

Hmm. Mary had read many, many things about her sons that had made her stomach churn. But that Castiel had left out the one volume that Dean was ashamed of…

Well. That spoke for itself.

“Wait.” Says Castiel, “Chuck is gone. How is this convention even happening.”

Sam winces, “It’s a fan convention. Led by Becky.”

“That bitch.” Dean growls.

Sam makes a noise of agreement, “It’s called ‘I Will Go Down With This Ship.’”

“Like the Titanic.” Castiel seems proud; finally understanding something about pop culture. Mary shares the sentiment.

“Takes you back to the glory days, huh.” Dean teases. “You and Balthazar running around saving ships; collecting souls.”

The angel doesn’t dignify that with a response.

Sam blushes, looking ashamed, “It’s about couples who they want to be together… like on Dr Sexy.”

Mary nods in agreement. Though… there hasn’t been much romance in the books so far. Nothing that had lasted long in any case. She feels a twinge in her heart at how much her boys had been through.

“Who do they ‘ship’?” Wonders Castiel, bringing his hands up to do air quotes.

Dean harrumphs, “It’s complete bullshit. Crazy stuff. Me and Sam, me and Crowley, Sam and Chuck!”

Had all these people really missed the most obvious one? “What about Dean and Castiel?” She knows the moment it comes out, that it’s the wrong thing to say. Dean clams up, turning to dump his coffee in the sink. Castiel glares at her before turning to Dean, to assess the damage.

“Yea, we're up there with all the other bullshit.” Dean deadpans.

Castiel winces.

Chapter Text

Castiel and Sam sit in the back seat. Sam screws his face up, glaring pointedly at his brother.

“Now isn’t the time Sam.”

Sam leans forward angrily reaching for Dean’s collar. “Why does it always have to be you two? Why can’t Cass and I ever team up?”

At the moment, Castiel wouldn’t mind. Dean seems dead set on going in and pretending to be ‘Dean and Cass bumping uglies.’ That situation would make it all too easy to give something away. He prefers to go with Sam on this one.

“Because, Sastiel hasn’t really caught on. Sorry Sam, but you’re just not lovable enough for our Cass.”

“That isn’t true.” He pipes up, wanting to avoid any additional confusion.

Sam nods. “I know Cass.”

The retort is on the tip of Dean’s tongue, but Mary manages to reel him in with a motherly touch. “Why don’t we ask Castiel.”

Eyes bulging out at being put on the stop, Castiel shirks away from everyone’s sudden attention.

“Maybe, it would be nice to work with Sam for a change.” Sam shoots a grateful look his way, smirking triumphantly at Dean.

Betrayal shines in Dean’s eyes and Castiel almost wishes to take it back.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” He announces, shutting off the engine. “This is a dictatorship. C’mon Cass.”

“Wait!” Sam shouts, “Rock, paper, scissors for it.”

Castiel almost rolls his eyes at their childishness, while Mary watches raptly; clearly liking this playful side of her children.

“Alright.” Dean turns sideways in his seat to face Sam.

Castiel watches the equally determined expressions on their faces as their hands move. He knows how low Dean’s odds are and how bad his luck seems to be when it comes to this game.

They both play rock. Dean grins.

Again.

They both play scissors.

Again.

Sam plays paper.

Dean plays scissors.

“Whoo!” he yells triumphantly, “Haha!” he sticks his tongue out at Sam.

Castiel shoots Sam an apologetic look as he moves to exit. He knows better than to argue with rock, paper, scissors.

…

Inside the convention are more people than Castiel had anticipated. He attributes it to the Winchesters’ personality. Anyone would be drawn to their light. He certainly had been.

Dean, on the other hand, looks almost horrified at the hundreds of people casually milling around. Some were dressed as Sam or Dean, others as Bobby and even some in a black suit which he presumes represents Crowley. To his amazement, some people have chosen his traditional suit, tie and trench-coat combo.

“Why would they chose to dress like me?” he wonders aloud.

Dean snorts, “Why not?” he asks rhetorically. That really doesn’t help Castiel figure anything out.

Sighing, Dean offers a more eloquent answer this time around, “You know… you’re part of Team Free Will. You’re as much a brother to me as Sam is. People love you and your hair and that stupid jacket.”

Someone in said ‘stupid jacket’ throws Dean the stink eye while passing by. Castiel almost chuckles.

“But I’ve done so many things wrong. I’ve betrayed you and Sam… on multiple occasions.” He feels the shame in his voice as he remembers all the ways he’d let them down.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice is unusually careful, “All that stuff’s done with. In the past.” He pauses, “Me and Sam have made our fair share of mistakes. You don’t hold it against us do you?”

“Of course not.” He answers, resolute.

Dean winks, “Problem solved buddy.”

Castiel follows Dean as he saunters over purposefully to the receptionist. “Hi there.” He says, flashing his badge. By now, Castiel knows to do the same.

The receptionist is an old lady with thick glasses and white hair. She looks up at Dean, nonplussed, “You got a warrant sweet cheeks?”

Frowning, Castiel wonders how she knows Dean’s cheeks are sweet. She isn’t in Dean’s usual age range, but the older Winchester was always surprising him.

“Not yet.” He says, deepening his voice slightly, as humans do when they want to intimidate someone. “But this could be a cross-state murderer. Time is of the essence.”

“Warrants are also of the essence.” Cass notes the tick in Dean’s jaw and wonders if he should say anything. No, he doesn’t want to risk ‘screwing it up,’ instead, he sets his face into what he hopes is an intimidating expression and focuses it on the poor old lady. She is just trying to do her job and she doesn’t even know the danger that exists on this earth. Castiel can’t find it in himself to hold animosity towards her.

Scowling, Dean touches his elbow, leading him away from the desk. “On to plan B.” he announces.

“What’s that?”

He holds up his lock pick with a smirk, “Break into the file room.”

…

Dean touches Cass’ shoulder as they stand in the dimly lit file room. “Look for the registration list. They did it manually so Sam can’t hack anything this time. Seriously! Screw this hotel!”

Castiel looks amused by his rant but heads to the opposite end of the room, combing through files. It’s slow going; the room is packed and there isn’t any coherent filing system. Seriously, screw this hotel. Why would anyone pick it for anything? He huffs.

Glancing over at Cass tells him that he’s deeply engrossed in his task. Dean feels a bit guilty for not being as focused, but takes his phone out discretely. He opens the tracking app. How could it not be here yet? Why is he paying Dean Jenkin’s perfectly good money for this crappy postal service?

“Is that something for the case?” Dean practically springs out of his skin as the angel’s voice booms behind him.

“Damnit Cass!” he tries to steady his heart rate and hide the phone simultaneously. “Give a guy some warning would you.”

“My apologies.”

Dean sighs.

Cass chimes in, apparently forgetting his phone for the while. “I found it.” he proudly holds up the ratty notebook and Dean can’t help but share his smile.

“Nice job Cass. Let’s scram before Becky finds Sam out in the parking lot.”

Dean freezes like a deer in the headlights as he sees the doorknob rattling. Just his luck, it would be the old lady, or worse… Becky herself.

Silently panicking at being caught, Dean shoves the book in his jacket and pins Cass to the nearest cabinet with one swift move, pressing their lips together in what he hopes is passion.

He shuts his eyes wanting to keep up the charade and Cass even seems to catch on, moving his lips more sinfully than an angel should, against his. He hadn’t expected Cass to follow along so easily. Damn, he’s getting better at working on the fly.

Holy shit.

Cass’ tongue in his mouth manages to wrench a real moan from him. His eyes fly open in shock, almost shoving Cass aside as a reflex. The angel’s face is relaxed and Dean has to admit his kissing is definitely doing something for him.

A throat clearing has him springing away. He breathes out harshly, not daring to look over at Cass. Instead he focuses on the hotel security guard who glowers at them. How long had they been kissing? It had entirely slipped Dean’s mind that someone was about to catch them.

“You two.” He thrusts his thumb backwards, “Get out of here and back to your game.”

Only then does Dean turn to Cass. He looks just as dazed as Dean. Which is only fair since his kisses made Dean feel as though he’d drank ten shots of whiskey. His lips are pinker than usual and swollen; Dean had gotten some good nips and licks in there too.

“C’mon.” a light tug on his arm springs him into action, “Don’t let me catch you two getting hands-y in here again!”

He barely catches the guard’s last words as a loud, murderous scream pierces his ear drums. Dean immediately goes for his gun and he hears the slide of Cass’ angel blade as he, too, readies himself for the monster.

The scream comes again and a blurry figure tackles him, repeating “Ohmygod.” Like a broken record.

“Becky.” He shakes her off, disgusted. At least she hasn’t found Sam.

Her eyes widen and she gapes widely at Cass.

“Castiel.” Her eyes shine with wonder, “I’m honoured to meet you.” she thrusts her hand out, “I’m your number one fan.”

Dean rolls his eyes. Number one stalker, kidnapper, obsessive fan… and that’s being generous.

“You guys were kissing in there?”

A biting: ‘no,’ is on the tip of his tongue, before he remembers the guard is still right there. He keeps his mouth shut. But that seems to be enough for her. She screams again running down the halls, chanting “Destiel is canon.” Dean almost hides his face in shame, but he notices some of the people chant along with her.

Seriously? Screw this hotel!

…

Sam continues researching the case while Dean and Cass went off. Screw Dean. He angrily punches the news article about the murders. The guest list should help. According to this new information the couple had been dressed as Sam and Dean and were found with their hearts ripped out near the fountain. Sam had seen it on the way in, it was a mammoth of a thing, almost the size of an Olympic swimming pool… the designs were intricate too; lots of space for a werewolf to slink in and out without being detection.

“Well.” He taps mom’s shoulder, “Guess Dean didn’t need that guest list after all.”

“What was that Sammy?” he swears Dean’s voice raises an octave.

“New info.” He repeats as Dean and Cass get in. “The initial report left out the fact that their hearts were ripped clean from their chests. To be thorough, we can check the register but it’s most likely someone in town.”

Dean curses violently. More violently than warranted as a matter of fact. “So you’re telling me…” he breathes heavily, “that I went in there – endured that – those horrors – for nothing!”

Sam keeps his mouth shut as his brother angrily peels out of the hotel.

When they’re almost to their motel Sam leans over to Cass who stares out the window listlessly. It’s honestly the most at peace he’s ever seen him. Sam almost doesn’t want to ruin it, but, as always, curiosity gets the better of him.

“Dean saw Becky didn’t he?”

Cass’ eyes flit up front, uncertainly, but he nods anyway.

Sighing, Sam ignores the upwelling of unpleasantness associated with his… ex-wife. He shudders.

“What did she say to him.”

“She just screamed quite loudly.” Mutters Castiel, looking perturbed, “Then shouted ‘Destiel is canon’ while galloping down the halls.”

He takes a sharp breath his eyes darting around, as the first bit of doubt filters in. Had Becky –of all people – seen Dean and Cass together and screamed for joy at their undeniable chemistry? Had Sam been blind?

“Why would she say that?”

“I don’t know Sam.”

Huffing, he tries a different tack, “What were you doing just before she found you.”

The angel dons his ‘pondering face.’ “We retrieved the file and Dean kissed me because he was happy then we got kicked out by a guard. That’s when Becky found us and started screaming.”

Pretty sure he’s just either gone deaf or is currently in a djinn induced fantasy land, Sam shakes himself. Glancing around the car, he can tell that no one had heard. “What?” before Cass can even respond he slams his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dude!” he calls managing not to run them off the road. But Sam doesn’t care. There are more important things. Like finding out whether he even knows his brother.

“You kissed Cass?”

His eyes flit to the back seat, “Way to spill the beans Cass.”

Mary smirks and Sam’s mouth falls open.

“We had to Sam. The guard was about to catch us digging in the file room.” his eyes remain fixed on the back, “It was just a distraction, right Cass?”

Sam prays for Cass to just say yes. And his prayers come true.

The angel stares out the window once more and Sam feels his heart plummet… this time, his face is the picture of stoicism.

Chapter Text

Sam notices the way Dean suddenly stands. It’s suspicious. But nothing new. What’s new is the fact that he notices how Cass instantly stands too.

“Uh…” he glances around the room, “Beer run.”

Sam frowns, “There’s beer in the fridge.”

Dean fidgets, “You forgot the pie. You always forget the pie Sammy.”

So what? He only forgets it sometimes. And he brings cake too, it’s basically the same.

“Right. Whatever.” He waves his brother away. He half wonders if mom wants anything but he doesn’t think either him or Dean would be comfortable enough to bother her in the shower.

Knowledge really is a burden, Sam thinks, as he watches Cass trail behind Dean.

“Um…” Dean trails off, his hand on the door. “Cass, buddy, where you going?”

Raising his eyebrows, he answers like it’s the most obvious think in the world, “To get the pie.”

Dean smiles uneasily, “I kinda wanted some alone time… just me and Baby y’know, on the open road.”

Open road his ass. The nearest highway is about fifty miles out. Dean’s probably just looking for a chick to put the moves on. He’d eased up quite a bit after the first time he’d done it absentmindedly in front of mom. It was a whole new level of awkward for everyone. Dean had actually managed to look ashamed. Cass, though, seems to reach the same conclusion as Sam and forces a small smile.

For once in his many lives, Dean finally seems to notice something.

“Alright. Alright, lemme talk to you outside for a sec Cass.”

Sam keeps his eyes glued to the hotel register, wondering if it would be too obvious to rip the curtains open and stare outside.

…

“Look, buddy, it’s just stuffy in there.”

He looks at Castiel for a reaction, but gets none, “Dean, if you want to engage with a female you don’t need to lie to us.”

Wincing he realises how ‘Dean’ that is. Sneaking off to get it on with some chick. He isn’t doing that, but still, it’s unsettling how well they know him. “I’m not doing that.” He says truthfully, “Look – it’s just – four of us in that small hotel room isn’t really comfortable for me. It’s getting claustrophobic, I just need some air.”

Cass smiles lightly, “And some pie.”

Clapping his shoulder, Dean releases a breath, “I can always count on you to understand.”

He shakes his head, wondering if he should even ask his next question. Cass could laugh at him… but would it really be so bad, he wonders. “So um…” he begins, eloquent as ever, “You got some technique there Cass. The things you did there with your tongue... wow! I mean, I’m a master and you had my head spinning.”

There. Not exactly a question, but enough rope for Cass to fashion himself an answer.

To his chagrin the angel only blushes and ducks his head with a small: “Thank you Dean.”

Alright, so he just has to come out and say it, “Where did you learn to do that?”

His eyes pin Dean, filled with confusion, “The pizza-man, of course. His technique worked well with the babysitter.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” he mumbles.

Castiel looks scandalised, “That is physically impossible Dean.”

Laughter bursts out of him, he can’t help it, “No.” he wheezes, “No, I guess it’s not possible.” Cass laughs along with him, seeming to understand that he’d been joking.

“I’ve watched you kissing many women Dean.” He explains. Dean fights the complaints about boundaries that threaten to slip out instead just smiling. If Cass watching him led to that… Dean should really be proud.

“See you in a beat.” He calls, “Make sure that Sammy doesn’t die alone with his face in a book.”

Another smile, “I’ll do my best.”

…

Castiel hears a loud banging noise just as he enters. He glances around assessing the room. Sam’s still fine and Mary’s in the bathroom.

“Did you hear that?” he asks Sam.

“What. No. Course not.”

He raises a brow at the abrupt answer but keeps his suspicions to himself.

In any case, he’s still too caught up in Dean’s reaction to his kiss. To hear that it hadn’t been real had been harrowing, but hearing that it did something to Dean, that just about made his day.

Contemplating their kiss, the moments that had led up to it and the superseding ones. Dean’s lips had felt infinitely. Just infinitely, like he could spend forever in their embrace. The act of lips pressing on lips had always seemed inherently disgusting to him… up until that moment. Dean had always done it with the females he was intimate with. The programmes on TV give him the impression that he should be jealous… and he is, to an extent. But he has something that none of those females ever did. He would be permanent. Those women would last no longer than a night but Castiel would always be there.

Those women had gotten to experience something he hadn’t though. True intimacy with Dean.

Today had come close though. His tongue had caressed the hunter’s mouth, drawn gasps that seemed all too real for a fake kiss. Castiel had survived his greatest dream and his greatest nightmare all at once. He’d always assumed that Dean would be adverse to being intimate with him due to his vessel’s gender and that any attempt would be met with a violent refusal. How wrong he had been.

He knows. He knows that it won’t change things between them but now he has something… something tangible to tide him over.

“Castiel.” Mary nods as she exits the bathroom. He remembers when Sam had explained that women, and Sam apparently, usually feel the need to spend copious amounts of time in the bathroom priming and pampering themselves.

“Mary.” He replies. For a second he wonders whether he should ask her what had taken so long, but decides against it. He doesn’t wish to antagonise her in anyway. She was already keeping his secret.

“Hey-o” the front door slams open and Dean enters with an armful of groceries.

Castiel perks up on his arrival. He hadn’t been gone long enough for an sexual relations to occur. “Did you get the pie?” he asks.

Dean smiles, “Of course.” He whips out the box, complaining that some of the whipped cream had been smeared during the ride back.

“You want a bite, Cass?”

He nods, not wanting to be rude.

Sam huffs from his corner, “We want a bite too.”

Scoffing, Dean holds his fork out to Cass while sticking out his tongue to his mother and brother. “None of you deserve this.” He teases.

Leaning forward Castiel swipes the pie off Dean’s fork. His mouth freezes mid chew as he fully assesses what’s actually in the pie. “This is… pleasant.” The molecules are by no means complex and they slide across his tongue in a familiar dance.

Nodding excitedly, Dean shovels some pie into his own mouth before replying: “That’s the crust. It’s honey glazed. Thought you might like it.”

He hums in approval holding it in his mouth for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Mary’s voice cuts through his pie appreciation moment like a hot knife, “Is that a new shirt Dean?”

Castiel looks over, interested, it is a new shirt.

“Nah.” Dean lies, fingering the material lightly.

Castiel vividly remembers the green and yellow plaid that he’d worn to the convention. This shirt is white, pure white in fact with hints of silver and gold flecks. It’s more of a dress shirt than a jersey really though it does have a Nero style collar. This reminds Castiel of what kings had worn hundreds of years ago. Elegant and majestic… something that separated them from mere men.

“It suits you.” continues Mary, “Don’t you think Castiel?”

He wants to melt away and seep through the floor boards. Dean looks up at him expectantly. “What’da you think buddy? Am I dashing?”

“You finally don’t look like a lumber jack.” He comments dryly. Why would Mary put him in such a position when she was well aware how precarious his position is? Dean’s bright smile dims at his comment and Castiel feels a stab of guilt. “This style mirrors some of that of the 15^th century nobilities.”

“Thanks.” Dean replies, but it isn’t sincere.

“I was just joking around.” He tries, not wanting to destroy Dean’s mood.

“No. You don’t like it.” he pouts.

Castiel almost rolls his eyes, “It is very handsome Dean.” His eyes are drawn to the shirt. The colours remind him of the gates of Heaven. Pristine and shining, a true feat of magnificence. “It reminds me of Heaven’s gates.”

“Hey Cass?” Dean’s voice calls in the dark. The pie had long been devoured and everyone had gone to sleep. Except Castiel, who watches over the Winchesters.

“Are you alright?” moving over to his side, he feels his head, checking for any ailments.

Dean waves his hand off, “I’m good… I was just wondering. Do you like your nickname?”

Frowning, he wonders what brought this on. Why now? It had been years since Dean started calling him ‘Cass.’

“It’s what you call me.” he says.

Dean pushes himself up into a sitting position, his eyes trying to focus on his face in the darkness. “But do you like it?”

He thinks. It’s the name that Dean gave him. In a way, he had been reborn into the life of freewill and decisions. “I like when you use it.” he admits. “Others… not so much.”

Dean sighs, and Castiel swears he detects a note of relief.

“Maybe you should give me a nick name too.” Dean suggests, sounding excited at the prospect.

Castiel laughs, until he realises that Dean is serious.

“What?” he blurts. How can he figure out a proper nickname for someone as great as Dean.

“C’mon. Spit ball.”

Nodding, Castiel wracks his brain for familiar nicknames. Cutie pie, sweetie pie…

“Deanpie.” It’s perfect. Dean loves pie.

Mulling it over for a few long seconds, Dean finally nods, “Alright, Deanpie it is.”

…

Dean opens the box with trembling fingers, practically shredding the carefully packaged book in the process.

He can’t believe it’s finally here. He wants nothing more than to sit in the lonely parking lot and devour the entire thing. But he won’t do that. On the way over, he’d promised himself that, no matter what, he’d only read a few pages at a time. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Cass.

Popping the cover open he flips past the table of contents and the dedication without really looking.

Chapter 1: Fun Facts About Castiel

1. Though he considers the Winchesters family, nothing can compare to the overwhelming feeling of security and peace that an angel experiences when entering Heaven after completing a task. Castiel misses that feeling.

Dean wishes that this case could be over. He want to get back to the bunker. Maybe put some white drapes and Christmas lights up like the books suggests. White, silver and gold. Blue is supposed to be comforting too, like the sky.

2. Castiel yearns for closeness, both physical and emotional, to the people he chooses to spend time with. As we all know, Sam and Dean aren’t the most ‘touchy feely’ and who can blame them? Once in a while though, it would be nice for them to let Castiel know how appreciated he really is. Sometimes, our favourite angel, feels as though he isn’t wanted – but for his powers – by the Winchesters.
3. Castiel hates nicknames. Especially when not used -

His eyes trial off. Cass really feels like this? No wonder he said yes. They hadn’t let him know how much he meant. How much they would miss him if he died. Things would be different, Dean decides. He had the book. He had the know how. And most importantly, he cares about Cass.

Maybe he could endure an extra chick-flick moment every once in a while.

Chapter Text

Mary knows that something is up. Her hunter instincts are tingling and her maternal ones too. Sam stands at her side and this time she has the chance of putting her baby under the microscope. The way he talks to this ‘Becky,’ is as though they have some history. She’d heard Dean complain about her, numerous times and she’d just attributed it to Dean’s general dislike of ‘fangirls’ and ‘chick-flicks’ in general.

“The guard said that Dean and Castiel were kissing in the file room.” she says with faux casualness.

Sam sees through it immediately and presses his lips into a line. “They did it so that they couldn’t get caught stealing hotel property.”

Her eyes seem to get this far away look, “Does that happen often?”

That one has Sam stumped and Mary along with him. Had it ever happened before?

“No.” Sam says smoothly, catching himself. “No. And you’re sure that this isn’t some elaborate scheme to get us here.”

Eyes widening comically, she shakes her head vigorously, “I’d never do that to you Sam.”

A short silence follows before Sam looks up, shutting his notebook. “Right. We’re going now.”

“No Sam.” She says, tugging at his sleeves, “Why don’t you stay. We have trivia from the books… and prizes!”

“No. We’d rather not.”

Mary assesses Sam patiently, Sam had never been so snippy with anyone. With Dean it was easy to see it for what it is: playful banter between brothers, but this is something else entirely. As they make their way from the convention, Mary swears that she hears Becky say, “Dear God, Dean and Cass kissing the file room. It’s perfect for a fanfiction!”

“Hey Sam.” She calls as they get into the rental car.

Dean and Castiel are going house to house on a few potential suspects. Turns out that the victims were from a nearby town so it’s highly likely that they share a few friends in the area. The guest list had been a bust, much to Dean’s chagrin, but Mary knows the importance of being through. She’s pretty sure her boys know it too; sometimes they just like to bitch though.

“Wasn’t that the super stalker fangirl from the books?”

He faces Mary, “Come on mom, we don’t need to dance around it, I’m not Dean.” He says, “I know she’s my ex-wife and that must freak you out, but I wasn’t in my right mind when it happened so it wasn’t really my fault.”

The wheel and the car seem to have disappeared, Mary wonders what Sam had just said. A wife. But she’d read all the books. Perhaps Castiel had left it out…

“And…” Sam draws out the ‘d’ comically, “You didn’t know that did you?”

Lost for words, Mary shakes her head, no.

“Damnit.”

Hmm. She wants to ask Sam more, but the closed off expression on his face tells her she mightn’t have much luck at the moment. That’s fine, she has the Google. And if she doesn’t like what she finds the she’ll just hunt this Becky down. No one hurts her boys.

…

“That was a horrendous waste of time Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes at that. Of course the angel who has spent bijillions of years alive would think that.

“It’s necessary Cass.” He retorts stepping into the Impala. It’s not that he didn’t think it was a huge waste himself, it’s just that he knows the detriments of not being thorough.

“What fruitless endeavour shall we engage now Dean.” Never before had Dean heard an angel sass him so sassily.

“Tell me how you really feel.” He mutters. They should regroup with Sam and Mom at the motel but… “I’ve got some stuff to pick up.” Says Dean, “You  might actually be able to help me with it.”

“I am very strong.” He angel asserts.

Laughing Dean struggles to clarify, “No Cass, stuff to pick out, I mean. You’ll help me choose.”

Wrinkling his face in utter distaste Cass shifts slightly in the passenger seat. “I’m not the best at making choices. Especially when it comes to human things.”

Slapping his shoulder, Dean offers a paltry, “You’ll do fine.”

…

Dean walks a stiff backed Castiel through the aisles of some health and wellness shop he’d seen on their way into town.

“You’re getting into aroma therapy Dean?” the angel perks up immediately, and Dean definitely notices the extra pep in his step as they walk down the essential oils lane. Dean hadn’t expected them to be so many. The book had said lavender or similar oils. But friggin hell. There must be hundreds, how is Dean supposed to determine which ones are similar to lavender.

He looks around some more, hoping to see a shop attendant nearby. No such luck.

His gaze drifts back to Cass’ almost proud one. “Dean I think this is wonderful. Aromatherapy is a very effective way to dissipate stress or even get a good night’s sleep. You can’t imagine how happy it makes me; that you’ve come to this conclusion on your own. That you’re finally doing something for yourself. This is a momentous step, Dean, and I’m glad that you wanted to share this with me.”

Mouth popping open, Dean stands there. Oh shit. Cass thinks this is for Dean. He’s happy… grinning in fact. A shit eating one too.

“Sure.” He says slowly, “That isn’t the only reason I’ve brought you here.” His mind scrambles quickly, searching for a way to salvage the situation and keep his plan intact. “Uh, I –um – don’t want to do this alone. It’s kind of weird.” That’s hardly a lie. “But if I had some … company… I don’t know…”

“Yes. Of course.” The angel responds immediately. “You know I’m here for you Dean. Whatever you need.”

Dean smiles, “Even if it means lying on my bed and singing kumbaya while the fumigated oil swirls around us?”

Cass touches his arm lightly, “Especially then.”

The oils are apparently in alphabetical order and he searches frantically for lavender. How many L’s are there?

He offers the bottle to Cass so sniffs it and nods approvingly. Dean shuffles, “I um… read … that this stuff is supposed to be good.”

Cass nods, still inspecting the bottle, reading the label or even taking a look at the molecules, who knew anymore.

“This bottle contains fairly little impurities.” He announces, “And the scent is appealing, even to me.”

Super. “Great. Let’s ring this up and jet.”

“Wait.” Cass snags his shirt sleeve which is blue, just as suggested. Dean hadn’t failed to notice how relaxed the angel had been in his presence or how he had almost drifted closer. “Don’t you want anything else?”

He shakes his head, “Yes, but –”

“Okay.” Cass says, cutting him off, “We’ll get an oil diffuser before we go. Maybe even some scented candles!”

Cass almost claps his hands in joy and Dean raises an eyebrow.  That’s way too much detail. “Have you – have you been thinking about this?” With a fierce blush, Cass spins away, pretending to inspect more bottles, Dean doubts that rosehip is really that interesting. “You have!” he exclaims. “Why didn’t you say anything.”

“You always complain about Sam and his ‘funny smelling hair cream.’” Cass quotes, “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own home.”

It’s the way his head ducks ever so slightly, as though he really believes this – the way he seems so ashamed of wanting something – that breaks Dean. His voice is thick next, coated in his good intentions and unintentional slip-ups, “Cass the bunker is as much your home as it is mine. You deserve to have things too. To want.”

Those blue eyes glaze over and he leans in to Dean, who, has an unwanted flashback of their kiss and almost flings himself away. He doesn’t though. And that’s what counts.

So Dean let’s Cass convince him to buy jasmine, frankincense, agar and sandalwood oil and chuck it into the back of the Impala.

…

Sam is just about ready to pitch a fit when Dean and Cass casually roll in hours later than they should have. The words die on his tongue though as the scent hits him. It’s … flowery? He exhales sharply wanting to make sure is isn’t hallucinating the smell. Nope. Still there and getting stronger by the minute. It’s almost like it’s seeping from their skin.

“You guys went to a perfume testing?” he asks.

Dean rolls his eyes, “Jealous?”

“Not really. I didn’t say it was good perfume.”

Cass smiles and Dean notices almost instantly, fake pouting at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” He whines.

“Oh.” Says Sam, raising his eyebrows, “We have sides now?”

“Did you two find anything useful?”

Cass looks around, flustered, but replies anyway. Droning on about the house. Sam continues searching on his laptop… something doesn’t quite add up about this case.

“… and Deanpie over there - ”

Sam’s wrist – it just – spasms. Suddenly his laptop is flying halfway across the hotel room and everyone is staring.

“Dean what?” he asks, the case almost entirely forgotten.

“Dean’s pie?” Dean’s face is flabbergasted even as the angel twitches. Cass points at the fridge shakily, “It’s in the fridge.”

“Oh.” Says Sam, almost ashamed of his gross over reaction. That makes sense. He bends to retrieve his thankfully not-broken laptop.

 Mom stands, her face set in an unamused expression, she marches over to the fridge and rips it open standing back to let everyone see the contents, “Where’s the pie?” She demands.

Chapter Text

… Mom stands, her face set in an unamused expression, she marches over to the fridge and rips it open standing back to let everyone see the contents, “Where’s the pie?” She demands.

Dean feels his muscles seize up immediately and he immediately tries to relax. In the heat of the moment (he’d been half asleep) Deanpie had sounded like a great nickname. Dean loves pie. But he realised how much like a pet name it sounded as soon as it came out of Cass’ mouth. Thankfully his friend had caught on to his discomfort and had tried to play it off. Really well actually.

But mom seems dead set on… something. Dean still isn’t sure what exactly her point is.

“I ate it.” he replies.

“And Castiel knows that you did.” She retorts.

He frowns, “So what if he forgot. I don’t get why you’re making this into a whole thing.”

“He’s an angel Dean, he doesn’t forget things.” Her voice is almost condescending and Dean has to try very hard to keep a lid on his temper.

Cass, apparently, doesn’t have much luck with his. He glowers at Mary. “Bold of you to assume that.”

“Oh and is it also bold of me to assume that the two of you are in love? That you’ve given Dean a very obvious pet name?”

Dean is so stunned that he can’t respond.

“Mom!” Sam exclaims, standing quickly and inserting himself between Cass and mom.

“Where did you get that idea?” his voice is slightly higher than he wants. But wow.

“Oh from the way you two look at each other. All the time.” she drags each word out slowly, trying to move around Sam.

Cass is fuming, mom is damn near hysterical and Dean feels frozen. Sam, to his credit, seems to be the only one with a cool head. “Mom, we talked about this.” That had? “What happened to us having some time to relax? Stress free?”

She huffs, “Don’t make me into the bad guy.” She insists, “I just want my sons to be happy. And one of you is in love and not doing anything about it.” She looks over to Dean then, “You have something special here and I don’t want you to squander it because you’re afraid – of losing him or of how we might react. I’ll support you no matter what, so will Sam.”

Dean licks at his dry lips, chancing a glance at Cass who seems to have just deflated. Dean can see the worry on his face, the panic. He can’t actually believe this crap can he? Dean wonders though, looking at his face once more. He’s never seen the angel more perturbed.

“Mom.” He says slowly, “I think I understand what you’re trying to do. And you’re right. Cass and I do share a profound bond.” Cass’ head whips up at that. He looks almost nauseous. Could the thought of being with Dean really be so repellent? Sure, Dean isn’t actually in love with him. But still, it hurts on an atomic level. “But it isn’t like that between us. And it’s not because I’m afraid or anything it’s because we’re not attracted to each other that way.”

She opens her mouth, “Dean, that isn’t what I’ve been seeing.” This time it’s softer.

He sighs, “What have you seen then?” to his knowledge all him and Cass do is hang around… like buddies do. Drink a few beers, have dinner, work cases… nothing romantic enough to warrant an intervention. Sure, they look at each other, but it’s all about eye contact. Engaging in the conversation. Letting the other person know you’re listening.

“The way you look at each other.” Dean opens his mouth, rebuttal ready, “No. Don’t give me that. When you talk to Sam you don’t look at him like you’re getting lost and he definitely doesn’t return the look. You don’t stare off at Sam when I’m talking to you. Like right now.” Dean whips his gaze forward. God dammit, now he can’t even look at his friend (to see how he’s doing with all this mind you) in peace anymore.

Sam’s eyes widen. Oh no, Dean thinks, he isn’t getting on the coo-coo train too is he?

“The way you’re always spending time together. I almost always see you near each other. And the touching. Dean there’s only so many times you can pat s-”

Sam clears his throat loudly. “Mom. Dean said that there’s nothing going on. You can’t force him to tell you otherwise.”

“What about Cass?” she challenges, swinging her gaze back to the angel. Dean almost steps infront of him to protect him. But that won’t do anyone any good; not now.

“I-” Cass looks over to him. The same, almost nauseous look on his face. “I don’t - ”

Dean reaches out to touch his shoulder and he almost jumps out of his skin.

…

It’s then that Mary realises something. She isn’t doing any good here. Castiel is almost trembling and his skin is paler than any angel she’d ever seen before.

He’d begged her not to say anything back at the bunker. She only just realises that it’s because thinks Dean doesn’t love him back. Not the way he wants any way. Mary is sure that Dean does love him back, but he’s confusing his emotions. Castiel is scared of what will happen if Dean finds out, and here she is shoving everything in his face.

“I’m sorry Castiel.” She murmurs. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The angel looks at her warily and nods once.

“We’re dropping this right?” Dean breathes in exasperation.

She nods. She’s dropping trying to force them to face their feelings. Castiel already knows. Maybe Dean just needs to realise it now too.

Dean and Castiel sit together and start flipping through the TV channels. Sam beckons Mary over.

“Why did you do that?” he asks, “You’re making Cass uncomfortable. I told you Dean is straight.”

“I thought I was helping them.” she says with despair. This one thing, she can’t even manage to do it right.

“By forcing Cass to sit there while you crank the heat up?”

“I though Dean had realised his feelings.” She admits, “Castiel loves him.”

Sam looks away, “I know.”

Mary’s eyes widen, “Then why aren’t you helping me?”

“Because, like I said Dean is straight. Think of the straightest thin in the world… um… a pencil!” he exclaims, “Dean is like a pencil.”

“But there are flexible pencils. Made of rubber.” Mary interjects.

Sam squeezes the bridge of his nose.

…

“You didn’t have to sound that disgusted by the thought of being with me.” Dean’s voice pulls his attention away from the episode of Scooby Doo. Ever since he’d actually met the talking dog and his companions, he felt an odd kinship with them.

What would be an appropriate reply, “You don’t want to be with me.”

“Well. No.” Dean admits. Hearing verbal confirmation is like an angel blade to the eye.

“Not that you’re not nice.” Dean continues, “Cause you are. Nice dorky little guy.”

Castiel huffs. “I’m not actually this size Dean. Nor is my true form male.”

“I know. I know.” Dean scrubs his hands down his jeans, “It’s just… this is what I see. And sure, your vessel has got the looks and your personality is – um, awesome. You’re a guy. And my best friend.”

Castiel feels the blade twisting and twisting and he struggles to maintain composure. “If you don’t react to males … then why did you enjoy my kissing?”

“Uh, I don’t know Cass.”

Castiel feels the hope that he’d had deflate. He wishes that Mary hadn’t filled his head with the thought that they could be together. She had made some good points. Some of the things that they did mirrored people in romantic relationships. But Dean had said otherwise and he knows well enough that Dean expresses his emotions differently from other humans in regards to certain things. Maybe this is one of those things.

All he is… is a friend.

Castiel thought he had made his peace with this already, but Mary had dredged up all the things he’d wanted to keep submerged.

Their moment is interrupted by Sam, who stands awkwardly by the bed. “Hey guys.” He coughs, “Caught a break with the case. Turns out that it might not be a werewolf at all. There are a large number of sub-terrarium water ways that connect directly to that fountain.”

“What are you thinkin’?” Dean asks, slipping back into business mode swiftly.

“Water wraiths maybe. I dug up some interesting info from Dad's journal. We should head to the corners in the morning to get another look at those bodies.”

Chapter Text

Sam’s eyes trail away from the dead body and back to Dean and Cass who look like they’re in their own little dream world. Looking at each other and communicating without a word being spoken.

It’s like Dean isn’t even trying to deter mom.

‘Flexible pencils. Made of rubber.’

Sam shakes his head, clearing away the doubt. Dean would hate him if he ganged up against him with mom. That’s not what brothers do. Once again he wonders about his brother and their angel.

A good brother would say something, he decides.

Marching over to then, he clears his throat loudly and even then the trance doesn’t seem to break fully. He practically had to drag Dean away.

“What are you doing Dean?” he demands, staring down at his brother. It’s obvious that Dean can’t see anything wrong with what he’s doing. It reminds him of the time Cass had sniffed the stiff. He glances over to the angel. Yup. He’s at it again. Dean probably doesn’t even realise that he’s been leading Cass on. Unknowingly yes, but there are still emotions and relationships at stake here.

“Whaddaya mean Sam.” He huffs, “Me and Cass are working the case.”

Sam raises his brows, “You know mom thinks you and Cass are in love. You two standing over there making moon eyes doesn’t help your case.”

Seeing the rebuttal on the tip of Dean’s tongue, he holds up a finger, continuing talking in a hushed voice. Mom does not need any more ammunition.

“You two are chatting it up next to a dead body.” He holds up another finger, “You’re wearing – you look like a high schooler on his way to junior prom. It’s inappropriate and why are you even wearing that anyway? It’s not even your style! That’s a gold shirt you’re wearing Dean… and that Jacket… it has sequins and glitter on it dammit!” he shushes Dean once more, holding up a third finger. “You smell like a flower shop. It’s disturbing. I don’t even know how or why you did that. Why did you do that Dean? What did you do? Head out early and roll around in some daisies?”

Dean blushes. Blushes. “First of all, Cass and I don’t stare. I look at him when I’m talking to him I do that with everyone. And Cass likes my clothes. Said so himself, so you can shove it Mr No-style. Thirdly… it’s lavender. It’s supposed to be calming and – uh, helps relieve stress.”

Sam doesn’t know what to do with this information.

Dean doesn’t look at him like that… hopes he never does actually. And – and Cass likes his clothes, what kind of screwed up reasoning is that?

Lavender is just about the only thing that makes sense.

“Look.” Dean leans in closer, “There’s something I should probably show you, but it’s supposed to be a surprise and I can’t risk Cass finding out. I don’t want him to … leave again – you know? Just – just hang on Sammy, trust me.”

“Okay Dean. I trust you.” Doubt once again clouds his mind.

…

“It is clearly bent on killing Sams and Deans.” Dean observes around a mouthful of burger. “Sam and I should hang around at the fountain and see what pops up.”

Castiel makes a shocked noise. “How does that do us any good?”

“Well… no one else dies.”

“Except maybe you.” the angel points out. “We don’t even know for sure that it’s a water wraith.

He sighs, “We never know Cass. That’s the risk we have to take.”

Sam and Mary nod silently.

“Then take me with you.” he argues. “Sam, Dean and Cass usually go as a team anyway.”

“No.” Dean’s voice is firm but he doesn’t miss the way Castiel’s face clouds over, suddenly reminding him of a thunder storm. “Cass.” He drawls, “Don’t be like that buddy.”

“Right!” he snaps, “You call me ‘buddy,’ Dean, but what does that really mean to you?” Dean feels himself shrink back a bit, “Is ‘buddy’ a word you use to describe someone who exists to follow your orders… to – to come at your beck and call?”

Accosted, Dean can barely find his tongue, a simple “no” slips out.

Angrily, Cass stands marching out of their hotel room. Dean rushes after him immediately, feeling his fears coming to life. What if he doesn’t come back? He hadn’t realised how deeply Cass felt about his role in their lives.

His mind flashes back to something he read in the book last night.

Chapter 2:

How To Subdue An Angel:

1. Angels are immediately relaxed when the muscles on the edge of their shoulder blades are pinched.

His feet move without any command, leading him to Cass. He squeezes… not too hard, but… medium.

Cass stumbles and Dean reaches around to wrap an arm around his torso, preventing him from falling.

Sorry Cass. He thinks.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

Unfocused eyes stare up at him and Cass mumbles something in Enochian. Dean bites his lip, guilty. He had to, he reminds himself. Cass would have left otherwise.

“I got you.” he murmurs, stroking his hair as his friend gets back to himself.

“Dean.” His voice is still rough, “What happened?” he asks, staring disconcertingly at the floor.

“Uh, I – I grabbed your shoulder and you dropped.”

He blushes, “That’s dangerously close to my wings.” He whispers.

Oh. Oh…

Dean nods, awkwardly.

“Where were you going?” he tries again.

“I need some air Dean.” He says, seeming to remember what had perpetuated this in the first place.

“Wait.” His hand shoots out, latching onto his arm. “You don’t exist just to follow orders. You’re our friend.”

Cass looks unconvinced. Dean had said all of this before, he realises. “You know I care about you Cass.”

The angel smiles slightly. He’s well aware of how uncomfortable Dean is with emotions and how much just that simple ‘I care’ had taken him to say.

…

Turns out that they all head to the convention. Sam, Dean and Castiel go as themselves and Mary goes as Ellen.

No one really pays them any heed in the sea of ‘supernatural rip-offs’ as Dean calls them.

Some of his worries had been dissipated earlier when Dean told him that he cares. He knows the older Winchester well enough to tell when he’s lying and that – that had been real.

“Alright.” Sam say, “Dean and I care going to break away and head to the fountain, you and mom hang back.”

“I’m glad you didn’t show up in that suit.” Sam teases.

“It’s not very Dean like is it.” Dean mutters, “But it makes Cass happier.”

“Yeah.” Sam stops walking to face his brother. “How does that work again?”

Dean rubs his brow, “Uh, well there’s this – book!” Sam presses his lips together to stifle his laugh at Dean’s nervousness. “Chuck wrote it before he went on his sabbatical. It’s about angels… and there are sections specifically about Cass.”

Dean thinks that Sam’s hair would stand straight up in shock if it could.

“And you read it?” Sam asks incredulously. “That’s … an invasion of his privacy. You know that right.”

“Of course I know that.” Dean admits, “But I don’t want him to leave, or feel like we don’t care. He gave himself to the devil man, just because he probably told him how worthless he is or some crap like that. No way am I letting that kind of mentality continuing.” After a beat he pokes Sam’s shoulder in a friendly manner, “I’d do the exact same thing for you. If mom wants to see it as something it isn’t then I’ll just let her be. But you know it’s not like that between us.”

Something in Sam’s eyes brings Dean closer. He knows his brother well enough to know when secrets are swirling in his eyes.

“You got something to say to me?”

Sam fiddles with the ends of his hair – more a mane these days really. “Dean… I just don’t think that Cass knows that.”

Dean scoffs, “That’s ridiculous. Of course he knows that.” ‘That’ being that Dean isn’t in love with him.

“Does he though?” Sam asks almost frantically, “What if – he does?” Sam waves his arms around, gesticulating like he does when he’s nervous. “What if he’s already in love with you and you’re just making it worse. Playing with his feelings.”

Feeling his face darken, Dean squashes his anger down. Now isn’t the time to get violent with Sam. “Sam… trust me, Cass and I know where we stand with each other.”

“Would it be so bad though?” Sam wonders. “For you and Cass to be in love?” he sees the strain on his brother’s face and softens his next words.

“It would be the most catastrophic thing to ever happen to us Sammy.” He exhales, and a plume of condensation follows, “Everyone would know. And they would all use it against us. We’ve died so many times already… imagine what would happen if we have one more weakness.”

Dean sighs heavily, aware of his brother’s scrutiny. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I’m not –” he breaks off with a curse, “I’m not.”

“Dean –” Sam breaks off, going into high alert and Dean immediately sets his mind to hunter mode.

Now, in the dead silence, Dean can hear the small dripping noises from the fountain nearby. And what they see… it isn’t a wraith.

It’s a ghost.

The ghost of to be precise Peter Sweeny, from all the way back, during that case at Lake Manitoc.

Chapter Text

Sam glances across at Dean. They both know why they’re dealing with.

Why though? He’d gotten all the justice he wanted. They should have all moved on. In fact Sam had checked the area regularly for years after, finding nothing unusual every time.

“Shit.” Dean hisses, “We got no iron… no salt.”

Sam presses his lips together. Mom and Cass don’t either.

Suddenly, they both find themselves slammed flat on the concrete ground being dragged closer and closer towards the water. Across from him, Sam sees Dean digging his nails in till they’re bloody, but it does nothing to stop the ghost.

Nothing about this makes sense, Sam thinks rapidly, the other Sam and Dean had their hearts ripped out. The ghost had done that… but why?

“Finally.” It’s disembodied voice drifts over.

That’s when it dawns on Sam what this really is: a trap. And they’d walked directly into the web. It had been laying in wait for them.

“You ruined my fun!” he shouts petulantly. “Generations of them would be drawn to the water only to join me for an eternity. But you stopped that! You took away my playmates! I always left enough of them alive to continue the family line but you two ruined everything.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies mom and Cass slinking closer with what looks like pieces of the guard rail I their hands. At least they’d picked up on the situation. Dean gurgles at his side and Sam whips his head around prepared for the worst… prepared to see Dean drowning.

It’s so much worse.

The ghost has his heart in his hands… the only thing connecting it to Dean’s body is a pulsating chord. Sam can’t even find his voice to scream before a piece of iron comes flying, dissipating the ghost’s form. Dean’s heart, it literally drops… along with a sickening squelch that has Sam flying forward.

Only, a certain angel of the lord beats him there. Pushing him aside frantically and cradling Dean’s heart in his hands. Dean had gone unconscious about the time his heart had been ripped out and now blood is gushing everywhere and Cass seems like the only one with their head on straight.

“Keep watch!” he commands, “The ghost can’t get to Dean while I’m trying to heal him.”

Mom jolts into action first, wiping her tears and standing at the ready with her iron stick. Sam stands opposite to her, both slowly moving… making a circle of protection.

Castiel’s entire body glows, brighter and more intensely than it ever had. Sam has to look away and grip the iron to stop his hands from trembling as Castiel cradles Dean’s heart and slips it back into his chest cavity. Sam swears a string of Enochian.

The glowing intensifies.

The ghost appears directly in front of Sam. He swipes the iron, scattering it.

Cass slouches and Sam nods for Mom to check on them.

“Shit.” She exclaims, “Dean is okay. I mean… the blood… but everything is… where it’s meant to be. They’re both out for the count though.”

“I’ll take Dean, you grab Cass.” Sam knows that it should be the other way around. Mom had clearly been about to lift Dean… but Sam needs to be the one to carry him right now. Feel his heart beating for himself. He’d almost let Dean be killed.

The ghost doesn’t appear on their way to the Impala. Somehow, it must have connected itself to the fountain or… Sam can’t think about that right now. Dean and Cass are unconscious in the back seat, both of them leaning precariously against their respective doors.

…

Castiel awakens to a loud roar. It takes him a few seconds to realise that it’s the Impala’s engine.

Sam and Mary sit stiffly in the front. Sam clutches the wheel and Mary just looks down into her lap. Suddenly, he remembers everything. Dean.

Dean is still unconscious… covered in blood but Castiel can hear his heart pounding… see his soul still in his body.

“Sam?” he calls shakily.

Sam glances away from the road and for a split second relief shows on his face. “Cass, you’re okay.”

“I am.” He assures, “So is Dean. But his body needs time to recover from the shock, my grace only healed so much.”

“Thank you Castiel.” Mary’s voice is small and distracted. “Dean would be dead without you.”

He nods.

Glancing back at the unconscious Winchester, Castiel can’t help but think that this could have all been avoided, had Dean only trusted his opinion enough to listen.

No. Now isn’t the time.

Cupping Dean’s face in his hands, Castiel strokes Dean’s ear with his thumb, letting his grace probe carefully, to ensure that everything is really okay. He could wake Dean up, it would probably do wonders for everyone’s nerves but he knows how important it is for Dean to rest… and how hard it usually is for him to even fall asleep.

“Everything is as it should be.” He announces, breaking the silence.

“Can you wake him up?” Sam asks, still looking anxious.

“I could.” He says, “But it’s better if he at least gets some rest.” He waits a beat, “This is not your fault Sam.”

The tick in his jaw tells Castiel that he doesn’t believe him in the slightest.

When he gets out of the Impala he can feel his legs tremble. Dean had been all but dead. A few more seconds and he would have bled out or the shock would have killed him. Bringing him back from the brink had severely sapped Castiel’s powers.

It’s a sombre mood as the three of them hover around at Dean’s bedside. Castiel knows – more than anyone else – that Dean is definitely waking up. But just seeing his pale face… his unconscious form gives him the feeling he’d felt when Dean had been bleeding out on that dirty floor.

Helpless.

Terrified.

Useless.

A soft groan has them all spring into action.

Sam gets there first and Castiel lets him, knowing how important the brothers are to each other.

“Sammy.” He mutters, “No chick’s ever ripped my heart out like that before.”

Even as Sam huffs an unwilling laugh, Castiel suddenly wants nothing more than to strangle Dean Winchester.

How dare he? Joke about this when they’d all be so afraid?

He balls his hands into fists, but says nothing as Mary leans down to kiss him, relief shining from her eyes.

“Pretty far away there, huh Cass?” Dean slurs.

Saying nothing, he walks a few paces over.

“Take it you used your mojo to save me.”

He nods.

“Thanks man.”

“Yeah.” He says sarcastically, “next time, how about you thank me by listening to what I have to say!”

He sighs, “I dunno what to say Cass. You know I can’t promise that.”

“Why not?” Castiel bites out.

“Cass, take it easy on him.” Sam warns.

Huffing, he just raises his eyebrows.

“Because you’re wrong sometimes too y’know.” Dean responds, “There are always risks when hunting. If you had been there too, the same thing could have happened… would have.”

“You always take stupid risks Dean.” He says lowly, “And I think it’s about time you realise you are invaluable to – to the world, your family… me. You aren’t as stupid as you like to think and you are a magnificent hunter… an exemplary human. So don’t you ever use that as a rationale to justify you sacrificing yourself!”

Castiel gives himself a moment to register the shock on Dean’s face, to see that his words had broken ground and registered in Dean’s mind. Then he walks away.

…

Dean shuts his eyes to avoid the constant staring. Cass had walked out a few minutes ago and ever since Mom’s been watching him like a hawk.

Sam’s in the shower; said he wanted to wash off all the blood. Dean wouldn’t mind doing the same… except he’s too damn tired and no way is he letting anyone bathe him like a friggin’ two year old. Mom won’t mind. Sam would… do it if he absolutely has to. Cass… well Cass wouldn’t even know what to do.

Sam comes out of the bathroom, his oh so precious locks dripping everywhere. Dean saves his joke. Just this once.

With a groan, he pushes himself upright and moves to stand. His entire body aches.

“You need help?” Sam nods over.

He scoffs, “I won’t even need a shower if you come near me with your dripping hair Rapunzel.”

“Sorry I asked then.” Says Sam turning back.

Mary smiles at him and it brings him the comfort that only a mother’s smile can. “How about me? No dripping hair here.”

“Nah.” He says, leaning on the door, “I’m trying to save just a little of my dignity. Although, send someone in with clothes. If I bend over right now, I don’t think I’ll be coming back up for a while.”

“Sure.”

…

Dean is sitting on the shower floor, under the spray when the door opens.

He wants to at least push himself up into a sitting position but he’s too afraid he slips and falls. Dean’s legs had betrayed him about halfway through his shower. He feels the phantom pain of having his heart ripped out, clinging to life by one thread of flesh. The redness of the water swirling around doesn’t help in the slightest.

“Dean.” He feels himself stiffen.

That isn’t mom.

Nor is it Sam.

Castiel, the angel of having no clue about personal space, is here to drop his clothes off and he’s lying pathetically on the shower floor.

Chapter Text

“Dean?” the voice calls again. Dean feels himself tremble despite the steam and the boiling water raining down around him.

“Leave the clothes by the sink!” he calls, hoping that Cass will just leave. The one time Dean actually wants him to leave and he’s stuck like a thorn in his side.

He hears the clothes rest with a light ruffle and he sighs with relief.

That actually went smoothly, Dean can hardly believe it.

Swish!

The shower curtain is ripped open and Dean shrieks, placing a hand securely over his junk. “Cass what the hell man?” Dean demands lifting a knee to shield himself some more. Usually he won’t care but it feels different this time… more vulnerable.

They stare for a few long seconds. Cass eyes him like Dean’s the hottest piece of ass he’s ever seen, then cocks his head. “Why are you on the floor Dean?”

“Just chilling dude.” He says in a rush, wanting to get the conversation over with quickly.

“I am unaware of this custom.” He observes still holding the curtain open.

Dean is afraid that if he reaches forward… some things of his will be on display.

“Can you close the curtain?” he bites out.

Cass cocks his head again, seemingly confused, “Why?”

“Cause Cass. Just cause!”

“But I like looking at you while I talk to you.” the angel almost pouts. Dean rolls his eyes, he really does spoil his friends.

“And I like my privacy.” He sighs, damn if he was exhausted before he might as well get into a coffin after that strenuous exchange.

The angel leans in closer and Dean wishes he’d just melt so that the spray would carry him down the drain and away from this constant probing stare. “You know why I like looking at you Dean?” the angel asks.

“Cause I’m hot?” he sasses back.

Tapping his chin, Cass actually seems to consider that. “It’s because of the way your soul reacts when you lie to me.”

Stiffening, he tries to laugh it off.

“Do you need help Dean?”

Dean wants to explode… but he doesn’t, for two reasons: he promised himself that he’d be nicer to Cass and he’s just too damn exhausted.

“I – I’m just tired buddy.” He breathes in shame covering his eyes with his hands and pretending that Cass isn’t just staring at him.

“Your legs are shaking.” He observes.

“Yeah.”

“I um, brought you something.” His friend says tentatively.

That perks Dean up. “What?”

The bottle of lavender and a tender smile apparently.

“Thanks Cass.”

He shrugs, then steps entirely into the shower; trench coat, shoes and all.

“Woah!” Dean exclaims, throwing out a hand to hold him back. “You can’t come in here while I’m naked. And you can’t wear clothes in the shower.”

Another perplexed look. And this time it’s even worse because Cass’ hair is all wet and saggy. “I don’t understand your obsession with clothes Dean and this so called privacy especially when we all know what happens in here.”

Dean isn’t sure whether he means toilet stuff or jacking off. Neither thought is welcome.

A towel is flung at him and it falls into his lap becoming completely drenched immediately. “Thanks.” He says drily.

But Cass is gone. That little bastard.

Dean closes his eyes hoping to finally get some peace when he hears: “Dean?”

He cracks an eye open. Unbelievable. Cass is still here and wearing… nothing but a towel.

Oh no.

Dean knows where this is going. It’s happened to him so many times before… except with a chick and no towels.

It should freak him out. It does freak him out. But when the dorky angel without a trench-coat tells him to scoot forward, he does it without complaint.

…

“Sam. Mary.” Castiel greets them with a nod as he moves over to Dean’s bed. Sam watches his movements carefully… the underlying tension… the exhaustion.

Dean had mentioned a book before the ghost jumped them. Maybe Cass really does need a pick me up.

“Where is Dean?” he demands, “He shouldn’t be alone right now he is undoubtedly still exhausted.”

“He’s showering.” Sam explains, internally berating himself for not insisting that he wait… or that someone go with him. “I need to drop his clothes off and I’ll check on him. He told me that he wants some alone time.”

“Now isn’t the time for that Sam.” Cass mutters drily.

Oh. “That’s not what I meant.” Sam can’t help but crack a smile glancing over to the chair Mary is sleeping on. Not that he wants to complain but anything to do with sex feels weird whenever mom is nearby.

“I’ll carry the clothes in and check on Dean.”

…

Castiel can’t believe his eyes… or his ears or his sense of touch.

He can’t believe the feel of being pinned between the cold tile wall and Dean’s warm back.

“Should I turn off the water?” he asks dazedly.

Dean thinks for a moment before patting his thigh and hell if Castiel doesn’t stiffen. “Nah. I don’t – don’t want them to hear us.”

“Hear us?” he echoes.

Sighing, Dean twists slightly to look at his eyes. “I’m guessing you came in here to talk to me or some bullshit.”

Smiling, he wonders why he ever thought sitting here with Dean like this would change anything. “Or some bullshit.” He whispers.

“Out with then.”

“There’s no bullshit.” He points out. “I just don’t want you to faint and crack your skull open.”

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

Castiel dabs a small rag onto the lavender, testing out the strength by sniffing it. He coughs and lets some water dilute it.

Holding the rag near Dean’s, nose he takes note of the way the older Winchester immediately melts into him. Soon enough Dean’s head begins to loll and Castiel lets him lean on his shoulder. He shuts the shower off and uses the tiniest bit of his power to dry them and the area completely.

Dean feels much nicer against him dry, he realises, tracing a gentle finger down Dean’s face.

Castiel wishes for his wings; so that he could whisk them away.

He wishes for the privacy of the bunker so that they would talk after.

He wishes that Dean would do this every day and not only when exhaustion drove him to. Because, he realises, this is what true intimacy feels like. Dean had felt vulnerable when he first came in here but he’d decided to share his doubts with Castiel and allow him to see him at his worst.

And no one could ever deny the worth of this. Not Dean. No one. Because it does mean something: a true expression of trust whether Dean had meant it that way or not.

But even though Castiel knows what it is… he also knows what it isn’t.

It isn’t a declaration of love.

It isn’t a promise of more.

And it certainly isn’t something Dean would want his family privy to.

Allowing himself a few more minutes to savour the closeness Castiel just shuts his eyes and lets himself feel Dean’s warmth, the soft tickle of his hair and the way he seems completely at ease in Castiel’s arms.

…

Mary stirs in her sleep, her eyes immediately searching for Dean. In her nightmares, Castiel never got there in time and she’d buried her first born child in a grave just outside the bunker. Cold sweat drips down her back making her shiver and she freezes when she realises that Dean isn’t there.

“Sam?” she calls, nearly hysterical. “Where’s your brother?”

“Hey.” He says calmly, “It’s fine mom. He’s just in the bathroom.”

“It’s been.” She glances at the clock, “More than two hours. We need to check on him.”

Sam winces, “We don’t. Cass is in there.”

That stills her. She listens closely, hoping to hear something above the water. Except, Mary doesn’t even hear the water. It’s deathly silent in the shower.

“I’m sure they’ll be out soon.”

And they are.

Castiel walks out with Dean cradled in his arms like a baby. All he’s wearing is a pair of boxers but he’s completely dry otherwise. To Mary it looks as though he’s just asleep. The angel rests her son on the bed like a piece of fine china his eyes darting everywhere but Sam and Mary.

“Is he okay?” Sam whispers, finally breaking the silence.

“He will be.” Castiel says gruffly.

He turns to take up his spot on the couch when Mary sees it… the trench-coat’s tag. Mary knows that the angel doesn’t bathe or change outfits so how in God’s name is the trench-coat inside out.

Chapter Text

Dean wakes up with a groan. He can’t remember the last time he slept that soundly, but somehow he’s still tired. Baby purrs as though greeting him. Cracking his eyes open he finds Cass with both hands on the wheel and focused on the road.

“Hey man.”

“Hello Dean.”

Discretely as possible he wipes the drool from the door frame then glances over to Cass. “Where’re we going?”

“Back to the bunker.” Cass hums casually.

“What?” He demands, no longer groggy, “But the ghost?” he glances at the back seat. “Mom and Sam?”

“Relax.” Cass tells him soothingly, “You won’t be in hunting condition for at least a week. Your mother and Sam can handle this on their own.”

“You- you should go back to help them.” he sputters, “Just drop me off and I’ll catch a cab.”

“Hmm.” Cass strums his fingers on the wheel contemplatively, “What’s that thing the kids say – ah – lmfao Dean.”

Dean’s pretty sure his eyebrows just blasted off into space.

“Do you know what that means?”

The angel nods. “You could barely stand. I’m not leaving your side until you can prove to me otherwise.”

Well, Dean can’t protest. Cass smirks haughtily.

That’s when Dean remembers last night. In the shower. That’s not what friends do. How had he allowed that to happen? So many boundaries had been crossed.

“Cass.” He probes tentatively, “About last night.”

Glancing at him from the corner of his eyes Cass smirks, “Don’t worry Dean, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Dean smothers a laugh. Why did he think it would be weird? This is Cass. Actually, he misses this uninhibited version of his friend. With Sam and Mom nearby he always seems a bit more closed off. Not that he can blame Cass, with the way these people have been acting.

“Dean and Cass.” He makes a swooping gesture, “Having a week of guys’ night out and racking up points with the ladies.”

“Is that what you want?”

He sighs, “Not really. I mean, it’s nice to say, but … not really.”

“Good.” Cass says, “We weren’t doing that anyway.”

Dean blinks, “So much for democracy.”

“You need to rest.”

“You need to rest.” He mimics, deepening his voice.

“That uh, gives me the chills.”

“I thought that coat kept you toasty warm.” Dean spots the gas meter. “You’re running her pretty low there buddy.”

Cass rolls his eyes, “There’s a gas station less than ten minutes away Dean.”

“Great.”

“Do you need anything?” he asks before getting out.

“Bacon.” He says immediately, “Side of fries and a slushy.”

Dean watches through the window and gapes in horror as Castiel waves back at him, with a bag of beet. Beet! Dean will riot if he dares try to feed him that disgusting red thing that looks like an engorged liver. What part of bacon was so hard to understand? Should he say it in Enochian?

Strutting over with a shit eating grin, Cass waves the bag at his sullen face. “I asked you for one thing.” he gripes.

“You got that one thing Dean.”

“Did you just quote one direction?” he demands incredulously.

“No nothing can come between you and I.” he continues with a straight face. “Here’s your iced beverage.”

He thrusts the red one at Dean, warning him not to drink from his blueberry flavoured one. While his back is turned, Dean leans in to have a drink and just as his mouth touches the straw: “Dean can I borrow some money?” Cass is already reaching into the glove compartment. With the book. Dean sees his life flashing before his eyes; it’s already half way open. He slams it shut, nearly taking a few of Cass’ fingers with it.

“Dean. I’ve seen your condoms before. There’s no need.”

“Uh.” He balks, “These – these are special ones. Flavours, glo-”

Backing away from the compartment quickly Castiel holds out his hands, “Just give me your wallet.”

“Who’s the pimp now.” He mutters.

Cass gets in and flicks the radio on. Dean scoffs and moves to change the station to something that isn’t completely crappy.

“Ouch!” he exclaims, snatching his hand away. “Did you just swat my hand away?”

“Driver picks the music, shot-gun shuts his cake-hole.”

“I’ve created a monster.” He murmurs, deciding to let Cass listen to his shitty music.

"I got you pie." Cass says casually, revealing a delicious looking cherry pie. “And BTW’s Dean.” Oh this better be good. “You are eating that beet.”

“You can’t force me.” he quips.

“Uh…yes I can.”

“I could banish you before you ever got the chance.” He retorts.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Cass chirps, “I’ll be tying you to the bed as soon as we get to the bunker.”

“Hhhm. Kinky.” He snaps, “Why don’t you dress up as a doctor while you’re at it.”

Cass looks deeply uncomfortable and Dean grins. “Nope.”

“Oh yes you are.” He says menacingly, “I’ll eat your precious beet if you play doctor while I do.” Dean chuckles, “A beet root a day keeps Dr Cass away.”

…

Sam stares at his phone pensively. Cass had promised to Cass as soon as they got to the bunker. Which should have been an hour ago. Sam’s mind is going wild with the possibilities. Kidnapping. Death. Bring run off the road. That had happened more times than he liked to think about.

He even tries both their cells, to no avail.

With a few clicks, he’s logged into the bunker’s security system. He breathes a sigh of relief. The Impala is parked safely in the garage. Right under the view of the camera apparently, lucky Sam. He’s just about to exit the app when he sees movement. Huh. Dean and Cass are still in the car.

Sam watches, as though enchanted, as his brother drapes his hand across the back of the seat to face Cass, who seems at war with the steering wheel. Jeez. Staring and more staring. Huh, maybe he can save this and send it to Dean as evidence. But as it turns out, Dean doesn’t need any evidence.

His hands caress Cass and at first, Sam thinks that he’s checking for injuries. Maybe he just wants an excuse… to not be that guy who has no idea who his brother is. But when Dean swoops down and very distinctly kisses Cass smack dab on the lips... well Sam just can’t use that excuse anymore.

Chapter Text

Castiel shuts off the engine but remains unmoving.

“Dean?”

“Hmm.”

His hands grip and release the wheel a few times before he turns directly to face Dean.

“I don’t have as much experience as you do with intimacy.” He states. “The one encounter I had… was fatal. I -” He glances away then and if Dean is seeing correctly, the angel is blushing. “It’s nothing. You- you just went through an ordeal and you don’t need me bothering you.”

“Hey.” He says, reaching out and patting his shoulder. “Tell me.” Dean needs a distraction from thinking about his heart being ripped out of his chest anyway.

Cass looks at him uncertainly, clearly regretting bringing up the entire thing. This is exactly why he needs to get cracking on getting Cass to realise just how important he is. This is an opportunity actually, he realises.

“No Dean.” Cass protests, “It’s – I just realised that it’s not something you would willingly do.”

“Okay.” He says, “Then let’s think of this car as a bubble.”

“Dean that’s – ”

“Ah Bup!” he interrupts, “Baby is a bubble. And anything that you say in here won’t affect anything out there.” Huh, that’s not half bad. Maybe he could make Baby their permanent ‘bubble’ and him and Cass could come down here to talk in private. “Any just this once. Whatever you say… I will do.”

Still uncertain, Cass fiddles some more with the wheel.

“Especially if it gets you to stop manhandling baby like that.”

Sheepishly, he releases the wheel and huffs in Dean’s face.

“I want you to kiss me.” Well thank God Dean finished his slushy five miles back. He schools his face into a mask of placation as Cass continues to babble on. “You seemed to like my methods and like I said, I – am not the best when it comes to human interactions. There’s no one I’d rather learn from.”

Kissing Cass. Dean’d done it before… out of necessity… as a knee jerk reflex.

But to do it again, consciously, under these conditions. Cass just wants to fit in though. And Dean should be doing everything he can to help. If everything includes a smooch fest then so be it.

“Okay.”

“O-kay?” the angel repeats, perplexed.

“Yeah, I said I’d do it and I will.” He reiterates. “But some ground rules first. Remember. Baby is a safe space.” Cass nods. “And that this doesn’t change our… dynamic. What I’m saying is. Anything that we say or do in here has no standing in the outside world.”

“That sounds fair.”

“Shall we get to it then?”

Dean’s plan is to grab hold of Cass’ face, imagine a hot chick and get to work, but seeing the trepidation in his friend’s eyes, he decides on a new tack.

“First thing’s first.” He breathes, leaning closer, “You don’t just kiss someone. You take their hand in yours like this.” He slips his fingers into Cass’, trying to get past how foreign this feels. “And you look at them.” But somehow Dean has trouble meeting his eyes. Cass at least looks more relaxed, enchanted perhaps might be better word.

“You get as close as you can.” With a quick movement he wraps his hand around Cass’ waist and jerks him forward, eliciting a soft gasp. “Touch their hair, stroke their cheek and when they melt under your touch… lean in and kiss them slowly, nice and sensual to set the mood.”

Okay. Dean mentally psyches himself up. The time for talking is over the time for doing is upon him. He threads a hand into Cass’ hair and cups his cheek with the other before licking his lips and leaning in. Where Cass lets his eyes slip shut, Dean keeps his half-lidded, curiously watching. It’s as nice as it was the first time, maybe even nicer now that they aren’t rushing.

“Mmh.” Cass moans and it has Dean gripping his waist even tighter.

Slowly, he adds his tongue into the mix, letting it roam around a bit. When he next looks at Cass, Dean realises this time that he was the one with his eyes closed, while Cass’ were wide open.

Dean pulls back slightly, taking a shaky breath. He definitely needs a minute to recover after that.

“Thank you Dean.” Castiel says, his voice breathy.

Dean chuckles, “Thank you Dean? I just did all the work. You need to put your lessons into practice.”

He smiles softly, “As soon as I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean points to his lips, “Now dumbass.” He huffs, “Try it out on me. A moan is good. A gasp is better.”

“Okay.” Castiel says, wearing a look of determination on his face.

Despite actually dictating the entire process and knowing everything that’s about to happen, Dean feels his heart speed up – nerves most likely. But when Castiel seductively crawls over to him, pinning him to the passenger seat door, Dean is wholly unprepared.

Castiel wraps their hands together once more, this time, adding his own flare by kissing each finger tip. This time, Dean is the one left to watch, entranced as Cass stares unblinkingly at him while playing with his hair. Don’t even mention the way his fingers slide down Dean’s cheek down to his neck.

“You –mmh- you’re ready for the advanced c-l-asss.” Dean doesn’t moan. He doesn’t gasp. He fucking whimpers as Castiel latches his mouth onto Dean’s neck.

After a moment of sucking and licking where Dean is sure he’s having some sort of out of body experience, Cass pulls back, regarding him silently. “Looks like the student becomes the teacher.”

It takes him a beat before he can respond. “Don’t get cocky. I was easing you into it.”

Smirking, he flicks Dean’s nose. It’s so innocent. So Cass. Dean almost bursts into tears. He doesn’t understand why or how but he’s able to muster enough energy to stop any tears from spilling over and Cass is still too lost to notice. When Cass thumbs his lips and leans down to kiss him, any thoughts and paranoia are instantly washed away.

…

...

But as they make their way down the bunker stairs all he can think of is that he wanted to get back early to decorate. Cass takes most of his weight coming down the stairs and thankfully doesn’t make a fuss about it, before carting Dean off to his room.

Things aren’t weird. Baby is a bubble. Nothing that went on … in there… could ever be possible in the real world.

Though, Dean hopes that it applies to the beet root that he kicked under the seat.

“What now Cass?” he asks as he plops down on his bed. Ah! Memory foam… daddy’s missed you.

“I will prepare your beet and I will return here to ensure you are comfortable.”

Ugh. Well so much for that pipe dream.

“Dean.” Castiel warns. “You will eat it.”

“We’ll see.” He challenges.

Dean lies silently on his bed as Cass heads out to the kitchen. Dean has half a mind to lock the door behind him. Of all the vegetables Cass could have picked… he chose the one that looks most like a bloody heart. Nah, that’d probably just piss him off. Dean isn’t down for that.

Cass is back not two minutes later, clearing his throat to grab Dean’s attention and splaying his arms and executing an almost bow.

“Doctor.” Dean says in greeting, eyeing the new outfit in delight. Cass in a doctor’s outfit. Damn. He’s been trying to get Cass to play Doctor/Patient almost as long as he’s been trying to get him to play cowboys.

“Patient.” Cass drawls. Strolling closer, he fiddles with the empty clip board. “Um, Mr Winchester.”

“That’s my old man.” Then whispers in a lower tone. “Cass this is awesome.”

“It seems you’ve been through some trauma Mr Winchester.”

“Call me Dean.”

“Dean.” He squints, “In my professional opinion, after many years of being a healer, I recommend aromatherapy.”

“Oh doctor! No!” he fake complains.

“You have no choice but to comply.” He replies, in a harsh voice, setting out the diffuser. It looks pretty much like a weird genie lamp.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Woah.” Hold your horses Cass. “What happens in the bubble stays in the bubble.”

“Not – no. I wish to massage you.” Cass sputters.

“Oh.”

Cass hadn’t even been thinking of that. But Dean definitely had… in fact he hadn’t stopped. Sure, he tried to convince himself otherwise, but the thought of what they had done lingered right in his periphery.

Tugging off his shirt he lies flat on his stomach and tries to get comfortable. He always knew that Jimmy should have been a masseuse with hands like his… now he gets to test the theory.

“Hit me with your best shot man.”

Cracking his knuckles, which Dean is sure is entirely unnecessary, Cass dives right in. He starts with the shoulders, not pussyfooting around. He goes in deep and hard, wringing out the tension from all his muscles. Dean sighs into the mattress, balling his hands into fists.

“I charge a hundred dollars an hour.”

“Mpph.”

Dean isn’t sure how to not make these embarrassing noises.

Apparently, as Dean finds out after waking in a pool of drool, sleeping is the key.

In an instant, he realises that Cass’ hands are no longer on him and that he’s not even in the room anymore. He sighs, the dude’s probably got some shit to do. The smell of smoke tells him otherwise. He grabs his blade and heads to the kitchen, prepared to face anything. Well, anything except a black, sizzling beet, burning away in a pot with no water.

He shuts the stove off and turns to face a contrite Cass. “I  still expect you to eat that.” He says.

Dean looks at him incredulously.

“I’ll cut off the burnt edges.”

Right, like it’s only the edges that are burnt. Dean rolls his eyes, but sits silently, waiting for the angel to peel, serve and cut off the blackened pieces from his precious beet root.

Chapter Text

Sam is terrified.

Terrified to check the camera and even more terrified to find that the thing that he saw was really real.

Like, pretty sure he would die terrified.

But Dean still isn’t answering his phone and Cass is a lost cause when it comes to technology and Mom is asking if Dean is feeling better and Sam’s mind in a kerfuffle. Kerfuffle.

Tentatively, he pulls up the kitchen cameras. The kitchen is neutral. Cars can have a romantic persuasion but kitchens… they’re not sexy. The Impala is though. So what if they had a moment? No big whoop.

The kitchen is empty. Sam feels his breathing turn ragged. He’s almost too afraid to click.

The garage.

Oh, that’s empty too. Great. Super.

What the hell? Why is Cass in a doctor’s coat? Why is he wearing cowboy boots? Why is Dean following him?

Nope.

Sam’s not tuning in for that show. Not ever again.

…

Castiel didn’t just buy beet in the garage.

Something else caught his eye… just before the beet actually. A small book. It was so inconspicuous that he would have missed it, had it coat not got caught on its spine. It fell with a loud clatter and the store clerk winced on his behalf.

That’s when the beet came in. Bright red and popping from the page. Castiel remembers picking it up to inspect it and reading:

“Beet – it’s bright red colour symbolises heart, blood and love. It’s a perfect aphrodisiac and was often used as an offering to Aphrodite

Fun Fact: Boron in beet acts as a sex hormone

Sharing a beetroot is said to make persons fall in love.

Bonus: Did you know that beet was in the dish shared by Russian and US astronauts which marked the end of the space race?

Castiel never realised how specific human books could be. To find a lore book on the righteous man… in a gas station was almost absurd.

‘How To Make A Righteous Man Fall In Love With You Without Him Even Knowing.’

He glances down at the copy in his lap, patting it, as though for good luck. “Will you share this with me Dean?”

“Please.” He insists. “Help me eat it.”

He knows Dean doesn’t really want to eat it, because he burnt it horrendously. Castiel feels a smidgen of doubt whilst consuming the hardly delectable vegetable; he doesn’t like tricking Dean. However, he also knows how good something like this would be for Dean, who just went through a trauma. To build up his strength and blood count.

“Please throw the rest out.” Dean begs after only two bites.

Castiel smiles. He recognises Dean’s distaste for the root but Castiel kind of likes it. Though it might be foolish to believe that the root would bring about true love, just a few days ago it would have been ludicrous to imagine Dean kissing him without an ounce of disgust.

The ride down had given him time to think and he’d decided on one thing: no more. No more hiding and no more doubt. Castiel is going to seduce Dean Winchester.

It’s a rash idea, wrought with peril for their friendship if things don’t go his way. But he doesn’t see any other choice. At the rate they’re going, Mary will out him by the end of the month, in a way that not even Dean would be able to deny and if Dean is really repulsed by the depth of his feelings Castiel will be expunged from his life anyway. But this way, Castiel can test the waters incognito and determine with finality – once and for all – whether there’s a chance for them.

And for the first time, he thinks that there could be.

When Dean kissed him his world imploded in the most beautiful way because he could feel the kiss for what it was. Not a favour. Not a pity. But something real. Now, more than ever, he can’t let the opportunity pass him by. He’s going all in, as they say.

“Cass?” he’s almost convinced that Dean just wants to annoy him by chewing like a goat.

“Yea Dean.”

“Baby is a bubble?”

His heart rate kicks up as memories from their last encounter in the Impala resurface. He nods already feeling excited by the direction of this conversation.

“I want to – um, use my turn?”

He cocks his head in confusion. “Turn?”

“Yeah. We did one thing for you; now we do one thing for me.”

“That sounds fair.” He can’t believe his ears. He was willing to wait weeks before initiating anything else; to give Dean time to rest and to avoid making his intentions too obvious.

“It’s not really anything, you know?” Dean explains. “But life on the road. It’s left me with some fantasies that I’ve always wanted to play out. I mean, I’ll just imagine you as a chick to make it easier but still.”

That makes him wince. He nods, slightly less enthusiastically than before.

“Good. Keep the doctor bit on and grab some cowboy boots?”

He frowns, “What fantasy are you playing out Dean?”

“It’s like the baby sitter and the pizza man. Some people are into spanking and others are just into role play.”

“Which one are you?”

“Neither.” Dean says quickly. “I just have a doctor fantasy. Sometimes.”

…

Dean finds himself in his room panicking about the fact that he just ate burnt beet and that he just asked Cass to dress up as Dr Sexy.

It’s only fair, he reminds himself. Dr Sexy is his one gay thing.

But what are they going to do? Kiss? More? Dean doesn’t know if he’s ready for more. And if he’s being honest with himself, he enjoys kissing Cass. It’s actually kind of calming; being with a friend.

He’s still kind of tired but he has to admit, the beet gave him a boost, despite it looking like a ripped out heart.

What should he wear? He’s pretty sure he’s got a hospital gown somewhere but he doesn’t want his ass hanging out. He grabs the gown and some boxers and changes, hoping that Cass is ready too.

He opens his door to find Cass lounging against the opposite wall. He’s changed too into white scrubs with the coat over it and of course the crowning jewel. Beige cowboy boots. Dean lets out a low whistle. “Lookin’ good Cass.”

“It’s Doctor to you Mr Winchester.”

Dean shivers. “Well, doctor, I’m due for my check-up aren’t I?”

“A few days late, actually.” Cass says drily. “Come into my office.”

Dean feels giddy as they head down to the garage. So far Cass is exceeding his expectations and he doesn’t expect that to stop.

“Are you nervous?” Cass asks as they climb into the Impala. Bet your ass he’s nervous. He almost forgot the keys… now that would have been awkward.

“This is my first… check up.” He says instead, determined to stay in character.

“Well… you must know, I have to be very thorough. If you feel any discomfort throughout the procedure, alert me at once.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s begin then.” Cass rubs his hands together. “I’ll inspect your throat first.” He taps on Dean’s lips, “Open wide.”

“Ahh!” Dean fights away his smile.

“A bit red.” Cass observes, clinically.

“Yeah, because I just ate beet.” Dean retorts.

Cass frowns at him. “I tolerate no excuses.”

“I was wrongly told that a beet a day keeps the Dr Cass away.”

“But I’m not Dr Cass.” He purrs. “I am Dr Sexy.”

The Cass presses his lips to Dean’s in a much more brazen move than their last kiss.

“Dean. Hmm. Your salivary glands seem to be working.”

“Yours too Doc.” He murmurs back.

Cass breaks away after a moment, his hair in even more disarray from Dean’s hands running through it. “I need to move on from your lips.”

Dean gulps, trying to push down his rising fear. Cass catches on this time and breaks character, stroking his cheek. “Baby is a safe space, remember? Nothing we do in here has any standing out there.”

“Yeah.” Dean murmurs, taking a calming breath, “Yeah. You can proceed doctor.”

“For this next part, I’ll need to recline the seat.”

“O-okay.” Dean’s fingers tremble as he sends the seat all the way back.

Cass hesitates briefly before climbing onto Dean and sitting on his lap. “I’m going to check your lungs.”

Slowly. So painfully slowly. Slow in a way that gives Dean enough time to appreciate the sight and feel of Cass sitting in his lap, Cass begins unbuttoning his shirt. He pushes it off, his eyes once more flitting to Dean’s uncertainly. Dean nods, letting him know that everything is fine. But everything isn’t fine. Right now, he’s reminded of that picture of the dog sitting in a burning house sipping tea with the caption box that says ‘This Is Fine.’

Cass drags his hands across his chest, letting his fingers scape across Dean’s nipples. He gasps, his back arching into the touch. One hand grabs Cass’ wrist; not stopping him, but just guiding him back to where they were.

“These aren’t your lungs Mr Winchester.” He observes, smiling slightly.

“I’m aware.” He dead pans. “But they hurt.”

“Oh?” Cass’ voice kicks up an octave and Dean can’t help his laugh.

“Yeah, why don’t you check… to see if anything is wrong?”

“Of course.” But his hands are already back on Dean’s chest touching a squeezing until Dean feels his blood go south.

“It seems we have a malfunction.” Cass observes.

“Um, yeah.” Dean manages, too lost in his pleasure and shock to get much more out.

“Dean?” Cass’ voice is quieter this time and the pause in their activities gives Dean enough time to really consider what they’re doing – what Cass is sitting on. Well, now he’s grinding on it. Dean feels like his head is about to explode; both heads.

“Hmm.”

“Should I – stop?”

“No.” But then it crashes into him. Cass has no idea what he’s doing. Which is why he created this safe space in the first place. Dean shouldn’t take advantage of that by shoving him into a situation like this. “But… do you want me to – to tell show you what to do?”

“Oh, I’m aware of what I need to do.” Cass kisses his lips to emphasise his point.

“I’m sure, but the babysitter and the pizza man didn’t cover this did they? With guys, it’s different.”

“And who told you the babysitter was a girl?”

Dean stammers through his shock, his mind immediately trying to come up with an explanation. He hadn’t gotten a great look at the T.V, though it was clearly porn, and- and the moans! The moans were feminine…

But as Cass slides down his body as fluid as a drop of water and slowly unzips his pants, Dean finds himself questioning more than gender of a porn-star.

Chapter Text

“Wait! Stop!” Dean rushes out. Castiel’s fingers barely even made it to the band of his underwear before Dean put a stop to the entire thing. He lets out a shallow sigh. It’d been foolish to push this far, but he was embolden by Dean’s eagerness at the start.

Pulling back, he suddenly finds it hard to look Dean in the eye. The plea in Dean’s voice is almost enough to convince him that he’s done something horrible wrong. But the reaction Dean’s genitalia had given suggests otherwise. Even now, he can see the slightly raised part on his pants. His ministrations had affected Dean, but this must be something similar to the kiss. A reaction to stimuli and nothing more.

It confirms that Dean views his vessel as something incompatible and disgusting.

“Cass?”

“Yes Dean.” He can’t bring himself to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Sorry.” Dean blurts. “I just – maybe we should stick to the usual for now.”

It’s strange that Dean should refer to ‘the usual’ as kissing, but that’s apparently how things are now.

“Does fellato scare you?” he wonders. Dean still seems to want to play his fantasy out. To a certain extent. Castiel takes a deep breath and glances at Dean then, waiting for his answer.

Dean glances down at his hands, fumbling with them a bit, but using them as a shield to cover his erection.

“Your body reacts to it.”

Flushing, Dean ducks his head. “I know. I mean – I’ve had this fantasy for a while. But I think it’s best we just stick to-”

“The usual?” Castiel supplies.

A single nod is his response.

“What happened to Baby is a bubble.”

“She is.” Dean insists. “Cass.” He says, turning to face him completely. “There’s this thing about humans. We have… hang-ups. Stuff that we want but we don’t want. And that’s scary.”

“You’re scared.” He repeats, resting an arm on Dean’s hand. “I would never hurt you Dean.”

“I know.” Dean’s voice is sincere. “But – I’m not – I’m not attracted to you.” Pain. Pain engulfs him, spreading his heart to his extremities at an alarming rate. “You’re my best friend. And I love that you can do this with me. And trust me; you’re the only one I’d ever do this with… for.” He smiles, seemingly oblivious to Castiel’s pain, “I know this is all about experience for you too and I know I’m screwing that up by not – participating…”

“I trust you as well Dean.” He says hollowly. “I’m glad you told me. I never want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, Dean, you mean too much to me.”

“You always get me.” Dean replies, his eyes drooping slightly.

But that isn’t true. Castiel never gets Dean.

…

Guilt swamps him as Cass throws him a backward glance as he slips out of the car. Dean squeezes the wheel,  frustrated with himself.

Damn it! He couldn’t even hold it together a few minutes to help his friend. All Cass wanted him to do was sit still while he sucked Dean’s dick. And it wasn’t that the idea – the visual – was unsexy. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It’s pretty rare that Dean gets this riled up over a kiss and some grinding. The entire visual – Cass, the coat, the boots, the way he kept in character. It was perfect. If only Dean could stop thinking about the reality. That Cass is a dude – or wearing a dude anyway and that Dean is unequivocally straight.

But how could he be? When he’d reacted like that?

It must have been because of the stimulation. The excitement of having his long-time fantasy fulfilled.

Gulping, he watches the door to the garage close gently. He’d disappointed Cass. He’d disappointed himself.

He has to make it up, he realises. Popping open the front seat compartment, he flips open the book, finding the page he wants in the dim lighting.

Chapter 5

Angels in general aren’t a very sentimental species – of course, that can’t be said for all members of the species. Like in most cases, Castiel is the exception here. Ideally, he enjoys keeping little keepsakes. Usually from hunts or recreational activities that were memorable. It might be insignificant things… a receipt or a napkin with something that he enjoyed written on it.

He keeps these possessions close to his heart – or rather close to his home – at the bunker of course! Sam and Dean have no knowledge of this and Castiel would like it to remain so… some of the information on those sheets are personal after all.

Fun Fact: When I designed Castiel, he was never meant to be this way – I guess it’s just the romantic in him.

Dean scoffs. Of course Cass wasn’t made like this. The factory setting angel that first came to him is long gone. Dean knows that he has at least some part to play in that; Cass even told him so and though he wishes Cass would have chosen to model himself after someone better, Dean secretly enjoys that he picked him.

Now, thinking about it, he did notice Cass picking up the bill, pretending to look at it speculatively. After that, Dean never saw the bill again. He thinks back to all the times that this had happened – with napkins too – and he smiles. Cass had done it on cases pretty often, but also when they were just hanging out. When he and Cass went out to try fishing, Cass snatched the receipt from the bait shop. It’s nice to know that the experiences they share mean something.

Rolling his shoulders, he stretches, noting how relaxed his muscles still are from the massage and oils. The level of relaxation that Cass could induce was almost catatonic.

Ring!

The noise has Dean slamming the book shut.

Crap.

He rifles around on the ground, cursing some more as Sam’s name lights up the display.

“Hey Sam.” He says casually.

“Oh you live.” His brother exclaims sarcastically. “I left you more than three hundred missed calls.”

“Oh.” He bites his lip, thinking fast. “Was busy with Cass and I left my phone in the car.”

Sam is silent on the other end. “Well, I convinced mom to take a case in Utah. She’ll be much more easily appeased now that I can tell her you are not dead.”

Dean grins. “Good on you Sammy.” He sighs, “I actually want some time alone.”

“Oh?” Sam’s voice rises in interest.

“Not that way pervert.” He snips. “I’m helping out Cass and you know how mom is about us. She’d see me giving him a friggin stuffed bee and start planning the wedding.”

“Sure.” Sam mutters, “That’s exactly what she’ll see.”

“What are you getting at?” Dean asks, suspiciously. “Please tell me you haven’t jumped on the crazy train with her.”

He hears a sigh on the other side of the line. “Dean…”

“What?” he barks.

“Nothing.”

“Bull.” He clutches the phone tighter.

“I’m just saying Dean; what do you think?”

Pressure rising, Dean feels the tension return to his shoulders. . “What do I think?” he demands, “I think that Cass is my best friend. We’d do almost anything for each other and if I need to do something that makes my skin crawl to make him happy and at home here then I’ll just suck it up.”

Silence once more follows. Sam’s voice is careful when he next speaks, as though testing the idea himself. “What if… that thing that you think makes your skin crawl isn’t really about that thing.”

“Huh?”

“No. Just hear me out.” Sam insists. “What if you aren’t uncomfortable or whatever, what if you’re just uncomfortable that it doesn’t fit your usual M.O”

Dean tenses. This is getting dangerously close to the truth. Does Sam know what they’ve been doing? The whole Baby is a bubble thing? He’s positive that Cass hadn’t let it out, so how?

“My M.O?” he echoes, trying to keep the panic from seeping into his voice.

“Yeah. Your M.O.” Sam says. “You don’t go out of your way to help someone like this. With you and me it’s different, cause you don’t have to explicitly show me how much you care, or even say the words. It’s just something I know. And you know that I know. So you don’t need to say it. With Cass it’s different. He doesn’t get the cues. Or the references. So you have to spell it out for him and I get why that might be hard for you. But I trust you and I know you’ll do the right thing here.”

Dean shuts his eyes, overcome with emotion. Relief, hope. Of course Sam gets it; he knows Dean just as well as Dean knows himself.

“Thanks Sammy.” He whispers, voice thick.

“No chick-flick moments.” Sam reminds him.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

…

Castiel perches on his bed, head in his hands as he glares down at the book. To read it or not to read it… he really isn’t sure if he even has a chance. All he'd accomplished so far was embarrassing both himself and Dean.

Maybe he’s just digging himself deeper into a pit of despair by even trying.

He glances down again, reaching forward to pick up the book.

Though the Righteous Man has a coarse personality, he truly cares about those he surrounds himself with and he always fears that they don’t share the sentiment. Often, he would express his care by giving a nickname. Often, he wishes that they would give him a nickname. A nice one. He believes, that since his method of showing affection is assigning nicknames, that others also share in this.

Bonus: Despite what one may think, the Righteous Man prefers handmade gifts, something that he does not make common knowledge, for fear of creating a ‘chick-flick’ moment.

Castiel shuts the book with a sigh. Yes, he knows that Dean enjoys his nickname ‘Deanpie’ and he vows to use it more often in conversation with them. He isn’t quite sure about the ‘handmade gifts’ though. Dean likes beer and skin mags; Castiel balks at the thought of trying to make either one of those.

Why is he even trusting this book though? It’s a work of fiction.

He flips it around, staring just under the title. His breath catches as he reads the author’s name.

Carver Edlund. Chuck Shurley’s alias for writing Supernatural books.

He clutches the book tightly.

God wrote this book. God wrote a book on how to make Dean fall in love.

Chapter Text

Ersatz Gone Wrong

Dean waits for Cass to leave his room before he enters.

Dean knows that he’s being a terrible friend, but he has to confirm that the book isn’t just some bullshit Chuck wrote for the fans.

He rifles around, careful not to leave anything out of place. When he finds the small shoe box, tucked under Cass’ bed, Dean feels as though he’s found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And sure enough, inside the blue box are a series of bills, napkins and even tiny spoons, all ordered and packed immaculately.

Dean traces the edges on one carefully, snatching his fingers back as some of the words are revealed. ‘Dean took me out for drinks. It isn’t very good for his liver, but it’s the only time he laughs so much. The good thing, is that he only had two beers and laughed just as much as if he had twenty. Maybe my presence does brighten his day.’

His hands tremble as he replaces the box. Of course you matter, he thinks.

Now, he just has to prove it.

…

Castiel passes Dean in the hall and the look that he gave him… guilt… shame. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Dean was on his way to rob a bank.

But he does know better.

He knows that the expression on Dean’s face is entirely because of him. He pushed Dean too far yesterday and now it’s put a rift in their friendship. Castiel pats the pocket of his coat, reassuringly. Maybe he can make Dean a gift… remind his friend that he really does care about him. A man with a plan is what he is.

But what would Dean like? He already concluded that beer and skin mags are out of the question. What about a macaroni drawing. The Internet assures him that people appreciate those. But how does Dean feel about macaroni.

“Dean?” he calls, to Dean’s retreating figure.

He turns to face Castiel, a nervous smile on his face. “Yeah, man?”

“How do you feel about macaroni?” he asks, point blank.

“Macaroni?” Dean parrots. “I, um… it’s good I guess. With cheese or – or chicken, I dunno.”

Castiel nods, pleased with himself.

He will make Dean a macaroni drawing with cheese and chicken.

Finding the ingredients for his task is challenging.

The bunker has no glue, but Castiel finds a way to use what cheese they have as a sort of paste. It feels strange on his fingers, but it holds the macaroni in place… generally. The macaroni breaks when he presses it too hard though, so he has to be gentle. The drawing is simple, but he thinks it’s something that Dean will enjoy greatly… a pie!

Castiel freezes, cheese dripping off of his finger.

Pie!

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

Dean adores it and he can make it by hand. He’s sure the Internet can even give him a recipe!

Placing his macaroni picture off to the side, he grabs his phone and searches ‘pie recipes that dean likes.’ To his delight, multiple recipes pop-up and he heads over to the pantry to fetch some flour and apples.

…

Dean smells something delicious.

The smell alone is enough to wake him.

He knows it instinctively… Pie!

The thought alone has him bolting upright.

Sam and Mom aren’t due back yet. And Cass has no business with pie.

His nose leads him to the kitchen where he finds Cass, with his finger stuck into the fiery hot pie.

“Cass!” he exclaims, jolting forward. He yanks Cass’ hand out and blows on it.

“Dean, I am an angel.” Cass deadpans.

Right.

Dean releases Cass’ hand and steps back, rubbing at his neck. How does one apologise to a friend when they’ve forgotten that said friend is a powerful warrior?

“It’s okay Deanpie.”

Dean flushes at the use of his nickname.

“Been a while since you used that one.” He murmurs.

“I was under the impression we could use it while alone,”

“Yeah.” Dean breathes.

Cass smiles at him. “I made you pie.”

He shares the grin. “Marry me.”

Cass is quick on the draw this time. “In your dreams Deanpie.”

Manoeuvring him into a seat, Cass slices the pie and places about a third on his plate.

“You know me well.” He murmurs, blowing on the still steaming pie.

…

Castiel hums to himself as he packs the kitchen. Absentmindedly he scrubs at the pie pan. Dean ate two thirds. All Castiel can think about are the expressions on Dean’s face as he ate and the myriad of appreciative noises that Castiel would never tire of hearing.

He definitely needs to make pie more often.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t even notice the figure sneaking up behind him.

“Boo!” the pan goes flying through the air and Castiel shoves the man away.

A mop of brown blonde hair shakes with the force of his laughter.

“Sam.” He admonishes pressing a hand to his chest. “Dean said you and Mary were working a case.”

“We are.” Sam nods, glancing at the pies. “Just… checking in.” he says carefully.

“I made pie for Dean.” He says, perking up. “Would you like some.”

Sam pats his stomach thoughtfully. “Sure why not. Just a bite though, I’m not Dean.”

Cass chuckles. No he isn’t.

Sam places the spoon against his lips and chews once before stopping abruptly and running towards the bin.

“Wow!” he spits twice, clearing his mouth of food. “Please tell me you haven’t fed this to Dean.”

Castiel stands there mutely.

“We – we need to hide this and make another one ASAP.” Sam says, swiftly gathering the dishes from the table. “Dean’s probably already smelt this and is waiting in the corridor like some kind of blood hound. I’ll help you fix this.” Sam promises.

“Sam.” Castiel says carefully. “Dean already ate it.”

Sam freezes. “No.” he whispers.

“He had two slices.” Castiel says.

“No.” Sam repeats, aghast.

“He did.”

“No.”

Castiel frowns. “Don’t you like it?” he asks, deflating slightly.

“Cass…” Sam trails off. “You used salt instead of sugar.”

“I know.” He says, “It’s called ersatz. Substituting one product for something else that’s a bit inferior.”

“This is ersatz gone wrong.” Sam mutters.

“It really tastes horrible?” he asks in disbelief. “Dean wouldn’t have eaten two slices if it tastes as bad as you say it does.” He’s sure of it. Dean always shares his opinions on pie.

“It’s – sorry Cass.” Sam mumbles.

“It’s alright.” He says. He should feel sad, because Dean had all but lied to him, but that Dean would make the effort – to eat this horrible version of his favourite food just because Castiel had made it for him –  it makes his heart race.

Chapter Text

Cass is floating on a cloud of bliss. His hands don’t know what to do, his other body parts share the sentiment.

Dean likes his pie.

Sam hadn’t understood the grin that spread across his face, but that’s okay. Sam probably think’s he’s odd anyway.

This- this is headway, and Castiel has to capitalise on it before anything changes. He recalls Dean’s penchant for ‘brates.’ Which, as he came to realise, after reading ‘How To Make A Righteous Man Fall In Love With You Without Him Even Knowing’ Castiel now realises that it isn’t actually ‘brats’ spelt wrong, but a combination of two words.

Brother. And Dates.

Brates.

He grins to himself. He’s going to ask Dean on a brate.

Castiel finds himself almost skipping to Dean’s bedroom. He’s confident that Dean won’t turn his offer down.

“Hello Dean.” He smiles, enjoying the sleepy, tolloused expression on Dean’s face. He doesn’t understand why Dean is so intent on keeping his hair so short and neat. Castiel thinks that the ‘windblown’ look suits him well. “Heh.” He laughs, earning him a glare. “Nice bedhead Deanpie.” Just saying the nickname sends thrills of excitement through him.

Dean leans against the door, facing him, “You come here for something? Or is insulting me just part of your morning wake up call?”

“I can incorporate it if you like it that much.” He says, keeping his face serious.

As expected, Dean laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Please don’t.”

“Are you heading back to sleep?” Cass asks, hedging around the topic. Now that he’s in Dean’s presence, he doesn’t feel all that sure of his plan.

“Maybe.” Dean says slowly. “If a certain angel can leave me in peace.”

“I can watch over you.” He blurts, the words coming naturally. The rejection whenever he suggests it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Dean pauses and Castiel cocks his head. This isn’t the vehement denial that he had been expecting.

“W-would that make you happy.”

“Knowing that you are safe keeps me happy.”

Grip tightening on the door, Dean cracks it open an extra few inches, letting him inside. Castiel almost trips over his own feet trying to get into the room, but that doesn’t stop him from catching Sam’s eye as he rounds the corner.

Dean crawls into his bed almost instantly.

“Hey…” Dean seems uncertain. “Do you wanna come up here? I have this diffuser thing on and I know you like this stuff.”

To come? On Dean’s bed?

In his haste, Castiel probably kicked Dean no less than twenty times.

“Does it help you relax?” Castiel asks.

“What?” Dean mumbles, “You kicking me in the back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“At least you didn’t hit anything important.”

“Yes,” he agrees, “I don’t believe your liver can withstand much more.”

“Dumbass.” Dean mutters.

Flushing, Castiel burrows into the pillows, turning his head to face Dean, who lays on his stomach, his head in the opposite direction. He knows exactly what Dean means. He can still remember it pressed up against him in the Impala.

“Yea.” Dean whispers sleepily. “Lavender puts my out like a baby. Is it possible that I’m addicted?”

“Would that really be a bad thing.” Dean getting s restful sleep is a blessing.

“Guess not.”

“Dean?”

“Cass.” He hums.

“I – can we go on a brate?”

Stiffening, Dean clears his throat. “A date?” his voice is shrill.

“A brate.” Castiel corrects.

Dean narrows his eyes. “How do you know what brates are. I never told anyone.”

Could an angel die from acute panic?

“Um – um – D – Dean…” he fumbles. “The internet!”

Pouting, Dean turns to face him. Castiel can’t take his eyes off of Dean’s lips. “Knew I should have patented that shit.”

“So?” Castiel tries to keep his voice even.

“Course I’ll go on a brate with you.” Dean says, patting his leg… the part of his leg that is dangerously close to… something else.

“You know what… gimme a sec and we’ll head to the Impala.” Dean says cheerily. “Our first brate!”

…

Sam remembers the way Cass happily chucked the rest of his pies in the garbage, and how he seemed so cherry in the moments after. He’d actually even considered reminding him that tasting horrible isn’t a good thing. But then he glanced at Dean, who sat there chopping away, occasionally stopping to gag, but eating it nonetheless.

Sam shudders, remembering the taste.

Now, watching Cass stare at him with those large soulful eyes, he has to wonder once again.

Sam retreats to his room. What should he do? If anything.

It’s not his place to interfere. And Dean will be a massive ass if he even catches a whiff of his thoughts, he’s already so uptight about mom knowing. Mom. Who finished the case in his absence and is hightailing it back to the bunker because she wants to see Dean.

Sam mumbles a curse.

Whatever he does it has to be fast and effective. But should he?

Dean isn’t in love with Cass to his knowledge. He’s sure that… whatever went down in the garage has some sort of reasonable explanation.

Maybe he should talk to Dean. Hint at the topic, after all, he’d been about to say something important back at that fountain.

Sam knocks on Dean’s door, waiting a beat before turning around and marching away. Who the hell is he kidding? Dean and Cass? They probably hightailed it to the garage to do… whatever it is that they do down there. Talking will just have to wait until they’re both decent. No way is Sam ever checking that camera again.

…

One hand is locked onto the back of the seat, clutching it for dear life and the other is knotted in a mop of black hair. Cass’ hair. Dean clamps his jaw shut, refusing to let any other noises out, other than the sound of his breath, passing through his nose.

Cass’ motions are clumsy, unpractised. He’s clearly a newbie. Why does Dean seem to enjoy it so much? His foot jerks, as his head runs over the ridges of Cass’ throat, and it slams into the accelerator. Dean pants tugging at his head slightly.

“Cass.” He breathes.

“Your organs seem to be functioning within normal parameters.” He observes. Popping off the head. Dean trembles, both hands now resting near Cass’ ears.

“Please don’t stop.” He practically whines it.

“Are you sure?”

“Uh huh. Mhmmmhm.” Dean grunts, “Can you- please – just-”

Looking up at him from his spot between Dean’s legs, Cass nudges his dick with his nose. “Does this – the things I’m doing – do they really elicit such a reaction from you?”

“What do you think?” he returns.

Smirking, Cass sticks his tongue out, poking him. “I think, you need to let me get back to work.”

And with that, hot, wet, warmth encloses over him once more. This time, his movements are –

…

Dean bolts upright, the painted walls of his bedroom staring back at him… not baby’s leather seats.

His pants are tight, he realises. Shit. He had a sex dream. About Cass.

Dean press a hand to his forehead a concerned angel staring back at him.

“Dean.”

He scrambles off the bed. Everything is too much, too tight, too real.

He’s been trying to make Cass feel better by doing the things he might enjoy. This is the same method that Dean would usually use when he’s trying to woo a chick – in the long term.

This is can’t stand, he needs… some boundaries. Something. He shuts the bathroom door in loudly, letting the panic take root.

This can never happen again.

Chapter Text

The next day, after Mom comes home, he decides to just suck it up and go on the stupid brate. At this point, it would be cruel not to. Cass has been antagonising over what to wear for the better part of the morning, Mom and Sam has been conspicuously absent. Dean can only wonder what his brother and mother up to.

Cass though, is decked out completely. Granted, he’s wearing most of Dean’s clothes, but he’s still decked out. He looks kinda funny actually. Well, not really, it’s just that Dean isn’t accustomed to seeing him in anything other than a suit and a trench-coat. He peruses slowly, letting his tongue click. “Lookin’ good Cass.” He compliments. “Your usual get up hides all your ass-ets.”

Dean chuckles at his own joke. He immediately second guesses himself though. After the wake-up call that came to him as a wet dream, Dean is particularly careful about what he says and does around Cass. He can’t let himself get into the mentality that this is a date. First of all, it’d be straight up wrong. And second? Cass is his best friend. He can’t let himself let confused like this. Even to make Cass happy. It just can’t happen.

“My assets?” he repeats in his tone of perpetual confusion.

“Yeah.” Dean says, stowing the panic for now. “Your assets. Your ass, mainly.”

“You’re looking at my ass?” Cass squints. “Isn’t that a strange thing to do.”

“Y-Yeah, it’s a strange thing to do.” He rolls his eyes. This angel will be the death of him. “But I wasn’t ‘looking.’ I just noticed it cause it just there – all of a sudden – you usually wear tht baggy trench-coat.”

“You don’t like the coat?”

Dean doesn’t even have to think. The trench is iconic, you don’t mess with that. “Nah. I like it. It’s very Cass.”

A tiny frown creases Cass’ face. “And that’s a good thing to be?”

“Oh it’s the best.” He assures.

…

On their way to the Impala Dean realises this plans for their  brate are basically a date. He taking Cass to the God dammed fair. And all because – maybe he’d enjoy it enough to write about it on a napkin and stash it in his secret box.

“So um Dean – where are we going.” Cass is in a dark blue and white striped shirt and a pair of washed out jeans. It’s an interesting look, Dean must admit. Very blue. Dean is even wearing something nice. A blue shirt with silver highlights and some white jeans. Dean felt like a complete slob, standing next to Cass, who’d spent so much time on his get up – that and… he didn’t want Cass to feel like he wasn’t putting in as much effort as he is.

“Nope.” Dean says, keeping his voice guarded. “Not ruining the surprise.”

“Dean…” Cass draws out the ‘n’ with a grin. Dean smiles.

“The pouty face only works for Sammy.”

Cass pouts even more. Dean barks out a laugh.

“Dude.” He grumbles. “What the hell?”

“Worth a shot.” Cass shrugs, settling into the seat.

“So Sam’s been suspiciously absent.” Dean pipes up, to keep the conversation going.

“I- I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You know. He’s just… missing.” Dean glances over to Cass. The road is empty anyway, and his hand is firmly gripping the wheel.

Fidgeting, Cass turns away from his stare, watching the road in his stead. “I guess. But I’ve been occupied the past few days.”

“You know – ” Dean pauses. Does he really want to remind Cass about this? He doesn’t know, but his friend is just staring at him intently, so he has to say something. “You remember that Baby is a safe space right?”

Cass smiles gently. “I know.” A pause. “Deanpie.”

The name sends shivers through Dean. They’re pleasant… but scary.

“So you can talk to me.” he says, faux casual. “About anything and everything. I won’t get mad, because, technically, we’ll never have talked about it.”

“Thank you Dean.”

With bated breath, he waits, eager to know what has Cass so fidgety and out of sorts.

When an answer doesn’t seem fore-coming, Dean sucks it up and asks. “C’mon dude. It’s like you don’t even want to go on this brate.”

Gulping, Cass stares at him, letting Dean see the vulnerability in his eyes. “This is my first… brate.”

“Hey. It’s just me.” Dean says in a tone he hopes sounds reassuring. “We’ve done stuff like this a hundred times before. Besides, it’s impossible to screw anything up on a brate.”

“Really?”

Yes, really Dean?! He screams internally, wondering why he’d even say something like that. “Uh, um, well, you only go… on a brate… with someone, if you’re already the bestest of friends. Even if you screw something up, you’ll just laugh about it.”

“So if I stop you from having fun… you’ll laugh about it?” Cass sounds sceptical and his facial expression would be funny, except Dean can tell he’s really worried about somehow messing this up.

“Man, you’re fun.” It sounds lame and he knows it, but it’s the best bit encouragement he can offer.

“I’m not fun.” He pouts. “I’ve never been fun.”

“You remember that night?” he asks, clenching the wheel. This is turning into dating territory again. What with the constant reassurance and the trip down memory lane. “Sam was… AWOL and you came to me with your hair-brained scheme – to trap Gabriel. We were hunting buddies, I got to teach you all the stuff about cases and interacting with people. That was fun.”

Cass perks up slightly, so Dean takes that as a good sign. “And – oh – this is the good part. We were talkin’ bout Themla and Louise and Bert and Ernie … last night on earth. I was supposed to get you laid, but a failed epically. It was fun though. Like I said, most I’ve laughed in years. And after… you plan… sitting in silence. That – that wasn’t actually half-bad.”

By now, Castiel is beaming at him, all pre-brate jitters gone.

“Alright!” he slaps the wheel. “We’re back in business. Dean and Cass’ day of fun here we come!”

Chapter Text

When Dean pulls into the Carnival parking lot he finds himself doubting the entire idea. There are tons of people here. It’s the middle of the week, so it isn’t as packed as it would be on a weekend, but somehow it’s still more crowded than he’d like.

“Do you think this will be fun?” he asks, turning to gauge Cass’ reaction.

The angel glances around with a wide smile on his face. “Yes!” he says, “This looks like – it looks very human. I’ve seen this on those Netflix movies.”

He pauses. “Do you think there will be a kissing booth?”

“Uh.” Dean is at a loss, he shrugs, “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Either way.” Says Cass, looking unbothered, “We have our own kissing booth right here.”

Cass leans all the way over to Dean’s side and presses a swift kiss to his cheek. Somehow, that little kiss feels more intimate than any of the others they shared before. Maybe because it’s broad daylight. Maybe because Dean isn’t accustomed to getting kissed on the cheek. The chicks he usually hooks up with usually just get down to business; neck biting and lip lock before the main course.

Dean gives an uneasy smile, resisting the urge to press a hand to his cheek like a blushing school girl. “Let’s go. Before those kids devour all the cotton candy.”

“Is it really as good as people say it is?”

“Well, I like it.”

“Your standards aren’t very high.” Cass points out drily.

He shakes his head in shock. “Well, thanks for that moment of resounding support.”

“Anytime.” He teases.

Dean laughs, twirling his keys between his fingers. He can’t remember a time when Cass was ever this playful. Usually his stiff persona followed them, even in moments of relaxation. Dean can’t complain though. It’s a nice change of pace… and exactly what he wanted; for Cass to feel free to be himself and know that he won’t be mocked or laughed out of the room.

A group of kids dash past them almost causing Dean to drop his keys into the drain. He quickly shoves them into his pocket and mumbles a curse.

“Where are we going?” Cass asks, after a minute passes and they’re both still standing in the middle of the court yard.

“I don’t know.” He glances around. “Look.” He gestures a ways over to a ride that resembles that tea cup from ‘Beauty and The Beast.’

Cass practically runs over, leaving Dean to walk briskly behind him.

“Spinning tea cups Dean.” He says as they wait in line.

“That should be fun.” He says.

…

Castiel laughs loudly as his feet cross on his way out of the tea cup. “This really is an innovative ride.”

“Well, it’s from this old fairy tale.” Dean says, rubbing a hand behind his neck. “Beauty and The Beast.”

He frowns. He vaguely recalls the name. “I’m not well versed in fairy tales.”

“Neither am I.” Dean says. “But I liked this one.”

“Why?” Dean looks uncomfortable with the questions and Castiel is just about to tell him not to worry about it when he sighs. He just wants today to be fun – untainted.

Dean stares at him, silencing any protests. “I just – the most horrible guy, who has the worst temper and is just broken by life and duty and what people think of him… he gets a happy ending.”

Dean thinks he’s the beast? Castiel can hardly say he’s shocked. This is Dean Winchester after all.

“I don’t think you’re horrible.”

“You’ve been blinded.” Dean says seriously. “One day something or someone will open your eyes and you’ll hightail it out of here.”

He chooses his next words carefully, knowing what a sore point it is between them. “I never enjoy having to leave you Dean.”

“I never enjoy watching you leave.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to stay.”

Dean’s ensuing smile flips his stomach.

…

Who knew fun could be so draining. After participating in numerous games and activities, Dean is bushed. Cass looks more alive than ever and he’s definitely enjoying it here.

Bobbing for apples had been a favourite. And he was pretty good at it too. It’s starting to get dark when Dean realises their entire purpose of coming here hadn’t even been fulfilled. They hadn’t bought anything substantial … that means no receipts.

Most places are starting to pack up. The closest thing he can see is a skeevy looking version of duck hunt. There are a row of prized on the wall behind the game. Dean tugs Cass’ sleeve, beckoning him over. “Which one do you want?”

Does that sound like a date question? Yes. Yes, it does. But Dean’s decided to stop caring. If he has to treat this like a bona-fied date to convince Cass that he means something to them, then so be it.

“The bee.” Cass says, pointing to the large fluffy thing.

“Of course you want that.” He laughs.

…

Dean tries for almost two hours. But the game is rigged and he has twenty dollars in his pocket. He can’t get Cass the bee. He can’t get him a memento of their time together.

“Dean?”

He glances over, wincing as he sees Cass’ disappointed face. “Why don’t we take a break before you spend all your money.”

He wants to argue and say no… just wait a minute longer but then he realises how stupid he stands here, shooting at ducks with a faulty gun to get a bee he could easily buy at Toys R Us.

“Okay. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you the bee.” He sighs. “I guess we’ll head home then?”

“Well, I had another idea.” Cass says vaguely.

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.” He beams.

And Dean is surprised to find himself standing in line for the Ferris wheel. “You know I’m deadly afraid of heights right?” he asks, as they get closer to the usher.

Cass looks over at him seriously. “I can hold your hand.” He says.

He roll his eyes.

“Here’s your tickets.” The lady pushes two slips of paper into their hands, grinning at them strangely. Dean hardly feels it between his fingers as he starts to panic.

What if they get stuck up there? That always happens in those chick flick movies. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to survive that. And the sheer embarrassment about freaking out in front of Cass…

He glances at Cass sceptically as he climbs into the metal chamber. “If I die up here. Just know that I blame you.”

“You’re not going to die Dean.” Cass says drily. “This contraption moves at less than one mile per hour.”

“I’ll die in slow motion then.” He grumbles.

The attendant clips them in place using the metal bar and they start their ascent.

As the gears creak to a stop at the top of the wheel, Dean shuts his eyes and clamps his hand over Cass’.

“Open your eyes Dean. It’s wonderful here.”

So Dean opens his eyes. It’s nice. The chilly breeze blowing across his face. The distant glow of the city’s lights that aren’t bright enough to drown out the stars. His gaze sweeps across the skyline before dipping sharply down and reminding him where he is. The ground looks about twenty feet down. A fall from this height would surely kill him – or paralyse him.

“In movies people come up here to make out.”

“Is that something you want to do?”

“I know where the boundaries of our bubble end Dean.” He says softly with only the slightest intonation of disappointment.

“That isn’t what I asked.” Dean says, trying to remain completely still in order to not rock their seat.

They’re too high up for anyone to really see them anyway and no one even knows their name in this place. One little kiss won’t hurt.

“Pucker up.” He says leaning in.

Kissing Cass makes him feel like he’s toppling off the Ferris wheel. And not in the bad way where he feels terrified and the ground is fast approaching – sure it does terrify him to some extent but that isn’t the point. It makes him feel like he’s falling… and he wants to hold on tighter. To grip Cass and hang on tight. So he does. He wraps his arms around his shoulders and hauls him closer. Pressing their mouths together feverishly. His mind is racing. Wondering what this mean. Hating himself for that dream and the boner that followed.

He knows how wrong this is.

But he just can’t stop.

…

When Sam hears from a random demon that his brother is taking Cass to a carnival he almost laughed.

When Sam trails said demon to said carnival and spends the day stalking Dean and Cass, he says fine. C’est la vie.

But when he sees the demon, a lady dressed as an attendant strap Dean and Cass into the Ferris wheel, Sam stabs her through the heart. Thankfully almost everyone is gone so he pulls the crank to bring them back down. The look on their faces is priceless. To have Sam find them while – whatever this thing that they’re doing is – is still happening.

“Sammy.” Dean winces.

“Dean.” He snaps, the points to the dead body that neither of them have noticed. “Cass. It’s so nice to see you both.”

“It’s nice to see you too Sam.” Cass says brightly and Sam just glares at him

“There was a demon following you and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”

Cass’ face falls and Sam almost feels bad. They took one day off in years to relax. But this thing could have killed them while they were lost in their own heads.

“Just help me carry this back to the car.” He says marching away.

Chapter Text

Chastised, Castiel and Dean begin toting the body back to the Impala.

Sam gets into the front seat in a great huff and Dean slips silently into the driver’s seat, relegating Castiel to the back seat once more. The drive back is sullen, the air rife with tension. He feels too stiff to even put the radio on. Cass, for the most part, sits, staring down at his folded hands and Sam glares out the window.

When they get to the bunker Mary is there.

She stands to greet them but her face falls as she picks up on the rift between them.

“What’s wrong boys?”

“Should you tell her?” Sam asks, running a hand through his hair.

“Me and Cass… we were hanging out and we didn’t notice the demon watching us. It’s not a big deal as Sam is making it out to be.” He huffs. “We take one night – one friggin night – off in our whole lives and you flip out on us.”

“Dean, I’m not mad.” Sam shouts. “I just – thought you, of all people, understood the importance of always being on guard.”

“Can we just drop this?”

Sam looks away. “Fine.”

Behind him, he hears Cass shifting from foot to foot.

“Hey.” He calls behind his shoulder. “This ain’t on you.”

A hand rests on his shoulder. “And it isn’t on you either.”

With that he walks past them both and after Sam.

“This isn’t that big of a deal.” Mary says. “It happens to the best of us.”

“It’s never happened to me.” He admits. “We just… walked right by it. It handed us a ticket and I let it buckle me in.”

“Buckle you in?” Mary cocks her head.

“That’s what you pick out from this.” He grumbles. “Mom… I need to know that I can tell you these things without you amounting it to me being in love with Cass.”

“I can do that.” She assures. “Say what you need to say.”

“I took him on to a circus.” Dean breathes. “And – ” he breaks off, glancing behind him. “Mom. Can we go to my room.”

…

Mary’s brow creases at Dean’s request. “Sure, sweetheart.”

On the walk over, she pays careful attention to Dean’s skittish behaviour. The tension in his shoulders and the worry in his eyes.

“It – it started out as me… wanting to help me friend. Show him that we need him for more than his powers.” Dean looks at her. “I don’t know where that went wrong.” His voice cracks.

Mary’s mind works. Are they having a fight? They seemed fine with each other when they walked in.

“I kissed him.” Dean blurts, eyes darting to the door once more.

Mary struggles to keep a neutral expression.

“We were on a Ferris wheel.” Dean defends. “He was talking about movies and – and I just wanted him to have that.”

She ducks her head, finding Dean’s eyes. They are shifty and confused. She suddenly understands what’s wrong with him. “You felt something.”

Licking at his lips, Dean glances away. “I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Human feelings… emotions.” She lays a hand on his arm to get his full attention. “They’re complex and at most times confusing. Sometimes you think that you should be feeling something so you convince yourself that you are. Other times, you worry that you are feeling something, so your body tricks itself into that mentality.”

“So you’re saying… that I didn’t really feel anything when I kissed him.”

“The thing about love Dean.” He rolls his eyes, probably expecting something cheesy. Maybe what she’s about to say is cheesy, but she’s honoured to be having this version of the walk with one of her boys, even if it’s about thirty years late.

“The thing about love, is that there are ways to tell. Ways that can’t be faked.” She says. “When you do something inherently romantic, any emotions you feel are questionable. But when you do something… something that you would otherwise despise. It sucks your soul to do this task and suddenly, that person is there and all of a sudden, you’re full of energy.”

“Purgatory.” Dean whispers.

She nods. “Other times, you could be doing the least romantic things ever and you feel your heart beat faster.”

“Like eating burnt beet.”

She raises a brow at that. “Strange. But sure.”

Dean is silent for a moment. Before plopping onto his bed with a huff. “Do you think I’m in love with Cass?”

She wants to say yes. The need to do exactly that is killing her. But that isn’t what Dean needs to hear right now. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth could never be the same as figuring it out yourself.

“Do you think you’re in love with Castiel?”

“I – ” Dean looks up at her helplessly and her heart breaks. She wants nothing more than to hold him tight and tell him that nothing is wrong. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

“That’s fine.” She assures him. “This is a huge thing.”

“Why can’t you just tell me.”

“What?”

“You know. You know how I feel.” Which means Dean knows how he feels too. “Why not just tell me.”

“That’s not how it works.” She says, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and rocking them back and forth. “I know where I went wrong the first time. This has to be all you.”

Groaning, Dean presses his face into her shoulder.

“Whatever you decide Dean, I’m proud of you.” Mary hums, stroking his hair.

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

…

“Sam!” Cass calls out, hurrying after Sam. “Sam!”

He stops walking and tilts his head back against the wall in frustration. “Cass… now isn’t a good time.”

“You are being unfair to Dean.” He says firmly. “He never takes a break and the one night he does, even if it’s with me, you just explode on him for the most insignificant of things.”

“Cass, it was going to kill you both.”

“What?” He can’t believe he missed the presence of the demon. But no way would they have missed something actively trying to kill them.

“Yeah.” Sam bites out. “It was doing something funky to the Ferris wheel.”

“I’ll die in slow motion then.” A joke at the time, but if Sam hadn’t saved them it would have been reality.

“Sam…” he gasps. “I can’t – can’t believe that I let this happen.”

“Like I said, I’m not mad. But to me… that was terrifying.”

Castiel presses a hand to his fore head. This entire thing had been stupid. He wasted all that time trying to get Dean to like him when all it had done was distract and confuse him, giving an enemy the perfect opening to kill them both. Having his feelings returned isn’t worth this.

“I have to go.”

“Woah!” Sam’s arm latches onto Castiel’s sleeve. “Dude you can’t leave.”

“I’m endangering Dean.” He says plainly. “I was being selfish and I almost killed him. Again.”

“You aren’t being selfish.” Sam says slowly. “Look… I’ve been trying to avoid admitting this. Not because I don’t approve, but… it says something about me and Dean. Our relationship – that he couldn’t trust me enough to tell me this.”

“What is it?” he’s almost afraid to find out.

“I saw you two.”

“At the fair.” Castiel nods.

“No.” Says Sam, his voice turning grave. “In the garage.”

Castiel runs. Straight to his room.

After about half an hour of steadily panicking he decides to sit for a moment. Dipping his hands into his pocket he pulls out the crumpled ticket from the Ferris wheel.

There isn’t even a question as to what he’s going to write on it.

‘Dean kissed me on the Ferris wheel today – out of our bubble. I think it meant something to him too.’

Chapter Text

Sam paces the halls slowly, trying to retrace his steps. It’s… something is just wrong and so horribly disturbing, but massively important.

And worst of all is that he’s completely forgotten about it.

As in: no clue whatsoever.

Dean’s room is locked, he’s no doubt sulking or talking to mom, he isn’t sure which. Next, he heads to Cass’ room. Thankfully, the door is open.

Cass bolts upright upon Sam’s entrance, a white dot flying off to his side. Sam’s about to ask what it was when he remembers he was supposed to be looking fot the thing he forgot.

“What’s wrong Sam?” Cass says, still behaving shiftily.

“I… lost something.”

“What was it?”

Wincing, Sam glances away as he feels a flush creeping up his neck. “I can’t remember.”

“Well.” Cass marches towards him, fiddling with his coat so it takes blocks most of Sam’s view of the room. “Let’s go find it then.”

Cass blusters past him and marches down the corridor, determined to find something that has no idea about. He seemed pretty insistent that Sam not look inside his room. He half wonders if Dean is hiding under the bed.

He darts into the room quickly and does a quick sweep of the room. Dean isn’t under his bed, but a small white piece of paper is. Sam pockets it quickly and chases after Cass. He’ll read it later, when he has a chance, and replace it before Cass even has a chance to notice.

…

Dean remains seated in the dark, mulling over his mom’s words long after she left the room.

It makes sense, what she said; when you do something romantic, you feel something romantic. It’s fairly simple.

Logical.

Plus, like most logic, it scares the crap out of him.

Could he be in love with Cass?

Kissing him, he’d surely felt something. Mostly confusion. But he’s old enough to understand that relationships aren’t just based on the physical. They connect. He feels like he can talk to Cass about his feelings – albeit not his emotions and feelings about Cass – but it’s still more than he’s ever been capable doing with someone else.

Maybe his ‘Baby is a bubble’ thing was a good idea after all. After the initial confusion, he can’t deny that he felt something for Cass. Something romantic. He felt a type of yearning when they kissed and longing and guilt when they pulled away. If Cass feels anything towards him at all is an entirely different ball game. One that he doesn’t wish to think about now. First, he has to figure out his own feelings, then, and only then, can he move on to Cass’.

He doesn’t feel right just kissing Cass in his car with an ulterior motive though. He doesn’t like the feeling of being used, and he knows, that if Cass finds out, he wouldn’t appreciate it either.

But that would mean opening up… telling him that Dean may or may not have feelings for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that he might well have to say that out loud. To Cass. And possibly face rejection before his wheels even left the ground.

He doesn’t think he can handle that right now. And he doesn’t want to set Cass up for something with feelings only for him to realise that it’s nothing but a stupid crush.

So what’s Dean going to do?

Things could continue as they are but he doubts that he’ll be satisfied. And remaining in this position would do nothing to help him figure out how he feels.

Should he even bother?

He doesn’t know how Cass feels. Not for sure. All he has to go on are a bunch of fan-girls and a mother who is no doubt dying to know that her children are in safe, secure, loving relationships. Their views are already tainted. He could ask Sam… but his brother is already pissed enough and he isn’t sure if mom already converted him to her team.

If there was a way to find out if Cass felt anything at all for him… maybe then he’d know how to move forward.

Ugh.

Why is romance so hard?

He spends hours looking at his ceiling, trying to come up with a plan.

How can he tell if their little outing meant anything to Cass? His first thought is the little box of memento’s Cass has hidden away. But Dean hadn’t managed to win that cute plush toy… but the Ferris wheel…

They got little chits didn’t they?

Sweet.

“Alright.” He whispers, mentally psyching himself up. “If Cass has the paper I’ll tell him… something.” He takes a breath. “If he doesn’t, then, things just go back to normal.”

Cass’ bedroom door is sprawling open, and Dean gingerly tip toes in. He makes quick work of finding the box and rifles through immediately.

‘It’s rainy today, Dean insists we get an umbrella to share.’

‘Dry cleaning is the worst. Dean hates these things too so I don’t understand why he brought me along.’ Dean rolls his eyes. Dumbass. He brought Cass along because his company made the trip just a bit brighter.

‘Dean turned down a potential hook-up today. He didn’t even have plans after. He just sat here with me… quietly.’ There’s a huge gap. ‘That made me feel strange and fluttery.’

Dean keeps digging and searching but he just can’t find it.

Everything else was here; the one thing he wanted to see… isn’t.

The friggin’ raincoat got an honourable mention… but not the perfect evening Dean had planned?

Maybe Cass just hadn’t had a chance to put them in their proper places yet, or maybe Dean is just blind and missed it.

“Dean?”

He blows out a hard breath as he feels his muscles lock up with guilt.

“Cass…” he says slowly, hardly daring to look him in the eye. “This… this isn’t what I – this isn’t how it looks okay?”

Silence…until a swish of fabric.

Cass is leaving.

Dean feels like a jackass. The crown king of jackasses.

He sprints out of the room.

“Cass wait.”

His friend just keeps walking, with his head ducked.

“Please.”

“Why Dean?” Cass whorls suddenly and Dean smacks into his chest, his hands finding purchase on the trench-coat.

“You always lecture me about this. Privacy. Personal space. And here you are! Invading the one place I thought was mine!”

“It is yours.”

He swallows and feels himself wiling under Cass’ glare.

He ruined it. Of course he ruined it. He feels his eyes dart from left to right as he searches for something to make it better.

“Just please don’t leave.” Is all he blurts.

“I – wasn’t. I wasn’t leaving Dean.” Cass says with a heavy sigh. “Just answer one question.”

Dean nods, his throat too clogged for any words to make it through.

“Why were you in there?”

All of a sudden it seems so foolishly childish. That he went in to check for a paper as though it was proof that Cass likes him.

He shakes his head trying to force something – anything out of his mouth before Cass really does decide to leave. One wrong word and Cass could explode… but no words at all…

With a rough movement, Cass shoves him away. “You don’t even have the courtesy to give me a straight answer!”

“Wait!” he yells. “Let – Lemme think – I ca -”

Cass gapes at him. “Think? Think of a lie?”

“Just stop.” He tries to grab onto the lapels of his coat. “It was wrong – I know it was wrong – please –”

A blow to his face sends him careening backwards. His hand is still tangled in Cass’ coat so they both fall into the half open door, sprawling on the dark floor.

Dean feels something wet on his hands and he hears some metallic clanging, but he feels as though he’s still attached to Cass.

Footsteps echo against the concrete floors and the light is flicked on. “Hey!” Sam says excitedly. “Cass you found that thing… the… uh oh.”

“Uh oh?” Dean demands. “What is this mess Sam.”

Sam winces. “It’s a… binding spell?”

“Binding what?”

“Us.” Cass voice cuts through their squabbling and he holds up their joined hands.

Chapter Text

Dean tugs at his arm, jerking Castiel’s up to eye-level to stare at their conjoined wrists.

“Dean.” He drones. “Could you stop?”

“How can I stop, when I’m having so much fun.” Dean says sarcastically. “Sam. Press the undo button.”

Sam cringes. “Well…”

Castiel braces himself for the explosion.

Dean throws their hands up and tries to march off, only to realise that Castiel isn’t moving. He rolls his eyes and regards Sam calmly. “Sam. I know you forgot about this. And that this is an honest mistake. But you have to reverse the spell.”

Sam, again, cringes.

“See Cass… the thing about that particular spell…” he chances a glance at Dean who has his nostrils flares like some kind of bucking bronco. “You need to do something before it wears off.”

“Oh?”

“I mean…” Sam rushes out. “It isn’t anything bad,  per say.” He assures, noticing their instant unease. “The spell connects two people two are emotionally distant. When that distance closes… that connection goes away.”

“Great.” Dean mutters. “How am I supposed to piss like this?”

“It’s not like Cass hasn’t seen it before.” Sam says, trying to lighten the mood.

Castiel feels himself stiffen. He’d completely forgotten that Sam knew about their garage.

He sees Dean’s face close off as well. “No he hasn’t.”

Sam chuckles. “Dude, he ‘gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.’ I’m pretty sure he got a look at the goods.”

Dean forces a laugh.

“You’re a real jackass Sam.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a fake one now would I?” he retorts.

…

That’s how they end up lying hip to hip on Dean’s bed.

Their hands are so close together, yet, somehow, it signifies a disjoint between them. Castiel knows what it is. His inability to tell Dean about his feelings for him is keeping them trapped. This, more than anything should be motive to tell him.

But he’s still mad.

In all the ruckus, he almost forgot the reason they ended up in that cursed room. Dean had invaded his privacy.

He doesn’t mind Dean looking through his things. He just minds Dean looking through that thing. It’s personal. Like a diary. And Dean had gotten a good long look. Maybe Castiel doesn’t even have to worry about telling Dean how he feels. He must have figured something out from all his mementoes.

“I’m sorry.” Dean says quietly in the darkness. “I know it wasn’t my place to rifle through your stuff.”

“Dean.” He says, trying to keep his voice even. “I do not want to talk about this.”

“Sometimes you’re hard to get a read on.” Castiel shuts his eyes at Dean’s words. For once, he wishes that he could get far away from Dean. “That… that box you have? It showed me that you care. That you might even enjoy your time with us.”

He remains silent. Of course he enjoys time spent with Dean. It’s the highlight of his long existence.

“Dean.” He says again.

“What are we supposed to do then?” Dean asks in exasperation.

“I was just going to sit here quietly.”

“And when have I ever let you do that?” Dean asks knowingly.

The strip club. He remembers that night fondly, if not for the way that Dean stuck to his side and stick it to Raphael. And the way he got to be a hunter in training for a day and hear Dean laugh and tell him how much fun it was to be with him.

“I have one from that night too.” he says, closing his eyes.

“Really?” Dean’s voice raises with interest.

“Of course I did.” He admits. “That was a turning point in our relationship.” It was when he realised that he was in love with Dean. He’d had an inkling before but he only realised it that day. When Dean was the only one he really wanted help from and the way he’d completely misinterpreted Dean’s ‘last night on earth’ line.

“I didn’t see that one.”

“I know.” He says evenly. That one is hidden in a small flap, under all the other bills. It’s the most damning piece of evidence.

Because behind the name of the strip club and the prices of the beer they bought are the damning words: I love Dean Winchester. And I have no idea what to do with that information.

Dean is quiet for a while the. “Why didn’t you put in the ticket from the Ferris wheel?”

Castiel cracks his eyes open to find Dean looking at him closely. His eyes shifting nervously. He hadn’t realised that so much rested that ticket. He swore that he did put it in the box.

No.

Sam had wondered in and he dropped it.

“I thought tonight meant something to you and I wanted to make sure that it did before -.”

“Before what?”

Dean is talking about his feelings and his emotions. Is he going to tell him to leave once they get themselves separated? Castiel can barely breathe past his fear.

“Dean?” he repeats. “Before what?”

He tugs at their joined hands when Dean remains silent. The worry is eroding his patience. Years of and years of wanting and hoping and longing are turning bitter and rancid.

“I only looked at it because I know you only put things you care about in it.” Dean blurts. “I was looking for the chit from the Ferris wheel.”

“Why Dean?”

“Because… everyone keeps telling me that you’re in love with me!” he yells. “That I’m in love with you!” he lets out a harsh breath. “It’s getting to me man! I don’t know what I feel. And I was going to talk to you and I found the box… so I just figured. If you cared, it’d be in there and then I’d know if I was going to make a fool of myself.”

Now Castiel feels like a fool.

…

“I think we need to talk to Sam.” He says gently.

“What?” Dean blurts. “I tell you something like that and the first thing you do is run to Sam?”

“Trust me?” Cass asks sincerely, already moving to sit up.

“Of course.” He mutters somewhat dejectedly.

He hates this waiting. The suspense is about to kill him. A clear cut answer had been all that he wanted – all that he expected. Why couldn’t Cass just put him out of his misery.

They make their way down the hall to Sam’s room awkwardly. Cass pounds on the door and gives a short wave to a dishevelled Sam as he peeks from behind the door.

“Sam.” Cass says sternly. “You have something that belongs to me.”

Sam glances around in confusion before flushing and reaching for his pocket. “Look, Cass I’m s”

“Save it.” Cass says briskly. “Now Sam, I need you to tell me exactly where you found this thing.”

Dean sees Sam reveal the ticket. He can spot the writing on the flip side.

“You were no your bed. With a box… when I came to talk to you.”

Cass plucks the paper from his hand. “Thank you Sam.” Then he turns to Dean. “I was going to put it in my box. Now, tell me what you were going to say.”

Dean reaches out with shaky fingers but Cass hangs on tight.

“Dean.” He says softly. “If you’re going to say… what I hope you are…”

“No ifs.” He promises, gently prying Cass’ fingers off of the ticket.

On the flip side, the blue ink stands out like a beacon. Dean feels his eyes blur as he takes in the carefully formed letters.

‘Dean kissed me on the Ferris wheel today – out of our bubble. I think it meant something to him too.’

And the spell is broken.

Dean feels his hand hit against his hip and he looks over to Cass, whose hand is also free.

“It did mean something.” Dean promises.

Chapter Text

Dean glances up at Sam. “Sammy, we need to talk. Alone.”

Sam nods, about to duck back into his room when his hair comes into view again. “Just so you both know. I am deeply sorry. I didn’t mean to meddle and I was looking for the spell so that I could throw it away. Just… sorry.”

“I forgive you Sam.” Cass says sincerely. Dean nods in agreement.

The walks back to Dean’s room is beyond awkward. Cass keeps glancing behind as though Dean would just vanish – or run away.

He swallows against his nerves as the door clicks shut. The words turn to ask in his mouth and suddenly, even looking at Cass is hard.

“Let’s talk.” Cass says, breaking the silence.

Cass pats the bed and Dean’s heart thunders in his ears. His mouth tastes like acid and his fingers can’t stop moving.

“Give me a minute.” He says in a rush, darting into the bathroom.

God.

What is he even doing?

This had started out as a way to keep Cass from leaving. Now, it’s turning into something that has the potential to drive him away forever. But everyone is so convinced that they’re in love. Dean wants to not care about that – be his own man or some shit – but the doubt keeps creeping back in.

He takes a moment to compose himself. Splashing his face with water and rinsing out his mouth. Cass deserves a real explanation at the very least.

He inches out of the bathroom, his nerves coming back full force at the sight of Cass.

“Are you okay Dean?” he asks, his eyes creasing in concern.

He forces himself to nod.

“Buddy.” He perches next to Cass letting their knees press together. “I’m sorry for touching your stuff.”

“It’s alright.”

He shakes his head. “It isn’t.”

“You said… what you said before…” Cass trials off, as though he, too, can’t put a name to his emotions.

“About people’s opinions getting to me.”

Cass seems to think for a moment. “So do you think you have feelings for me… or is it just…”

Dean huffs. “Of course I feel something for you.” it comes out way more emotional than he’d intended. “How could I not. Just… look at what we’ve done. And I know you only want to get experience but I don’t know how to tell if my feelings are involved or not.”

“It’s okay Dean.” Cass assures. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And… if you so desire, I can help you discern the true nature of your emotions.”

“You’d do that?” Of course he’d do that. Dean would do the same for him to if it really came down to it. “My potential feelings… they don’t bother you?”

…

Castiel worries at his lip.

He doesn’t  want to reveal too much, too soon. In the even that Dean really is just confused, he doesn’t want to lay all his cards on the table and left in the cold like a fool.

But on the flip side… this is his chance.

His one chance to tell Dean everything and stop hiding.

“We can continue our deal now.” He says instead. “Baby is our bubble. We can test our relationship and you can tell me when your emotions become clearer.”

“I don’t want to use you though.” Dean looks at him with sincerity.

“You won’t.” He assures. “Truthfully, my feelings about you… they’ve also become…” he tries to find the most fitting word; one that won’t reveal everything, but won’t be a bald faced lie either. “… blurred.” He decides on.

Dean blinks in surprise. “They got you too.” he murmurs.

“How do we do this then?” he asks.

Dean reaches out, cupping his cheek. It sends chills through Castiel’s body. “It’s like you said.” Dean whispers. “We keep doing what we’ve been doing. Only this time we both know that this could evolve into something… real. And – and when one of us is sure about the way we feel… we say something.”

“And then?”

“Well.” Dean cracks a smile. “We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Dean.” He whispers. “Can we go to the garage?”

Dean’s eyes widen at the implication and Cass feels as though he’s asking for too much too soon. But Dean nods quickly, grabbing Castiel’s hand and pulling him towards the door.

He scrambles for his keys and unlocks the Impala, guiding them both into the back seat.

Dean presses their foreheads together and peers deep into his eyes. “We’re in this together right?”

“Right.” He nods, reaching out to touch Dean’s hair. “I care about you.”

That isn’t the word he wants to say but for now, it will have to do. Maybe one day he can tell Dean all the words he really wants to say. But for now, he’s happy with this.

It’s progress.

Slow but steady. Dean is opening up to him. And he can let himself open up to Dean too.

Castiel makes the first move, pressing their lips together and stroking along Dean’s tongue with his own.

“Mhh.” Dean moans, threading his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “Cass.” The timbre of his voice is lower than normal and it makes his pores raise.

“Dean.” He moans in reply pulling back slightly. Their lips are still close together, their breath mingling and fogging up the glasses.

“I think I’m ready now.” Dean says lowly. “To do that thing we were going to do earlier.”

He lets out a harsh breath then letting his hands trail down Dean’s torso. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Dean exhales, his hands slipping down Castiel’s arm. “I want this.”

Dean scoots back into the seat as Castiel crouches to unzip his pants.

“Wait.” Dean says suddenly, making his pause at the band of the other man’s underwear. Dean looks down at him uncertainly. “Maybe – maybe I should do you first. You said you wanted to learn.”

He chuckles. “Dean, I know you haven’t done this before either.”

“Oh.” Dean says sheepishly.

“Look at it this way.” He says encouragingly. “We both get to learn something new together.”

Dean still looks nervous. But Castiel hopes to erase any thoughts that Dean might have. He actually read a bit about blow job etiquette online after that disastrous non-attempt.

But by the way Dean moans and struggles to remain still while Castiel’s mouth is on his erection, he must be doing a good job.

Chapter Text

Dean’s hand trembles as Cass makes his way back up his body, licking a path over his sweaty skin. His neck and chest are doused in a film of sweat, but Cass doesn’t seem to mind. His body is still sensitive, even as he comes down and he finds his hands struggling to stay still.

The way he felt just now leaves him at a loss for words.

He just came from the touch of a man.

Dean’d been so nervous that he didn’t think he would but just knowing that it’s Cass was a huge turn on.

“You enjoyed that.” Cass says lowly, his voice no less surprised than Dean’s.

Dean swallows and nods. “Yeah, Cass… I mean… that was…”

Cass peers at him hopefully.

Life-changing?

Freaking awesome?

Some of the most mind-blowing sex he’s ever had?

“Great.”

It’s an understatement, but Cass eats up the praise, practically preening at his side.

“Now you.” he says in a rush, before he can take the words back.

It’s only fair. Give as much as he took… and just now? He took plenty.

He sees Cass’ eyes spark with interest and he has to admit it turn him on to know that Dean will be the one to give Cass is first blow job.

“No.”

Dean rubs his hands together, he’s still a bit drained from earlier, but he’s determined to make this good. That is, until Cass’ words catch up to him.

“What do you mean?” he hears the pout in his voice. “You don’t want me to?”

He realises that Cass might have done research and all sorts of things once they started their ‘Baby is a bubble’ arrangement. Maybe he doesn’t feel like being blow by Dean, who knows nothing. Well not nothing, he’s received his fair share of BJ’s. He knows what feels good, what doesn’t. No teeth is a no-brainer.

He’s about to tell Cass just that when Cass beats him to the punch. “Of course I want you to Dean.” He says, and Dean can feel his desire simmering between them. “But I don’t want you to do it out of some sort of misguided gratitude. I want you to do it when you’re ready.”

“I am ready.” He insists.

Cass smiles at him. “No, you’re not.” He says. The words don’t come out in a way that makes Dean think he’s holding onto any animosity. They’re just words. Facts.

“I know this was a huge step for you.” Cass continues, looking earnestly into Dean’s eyes. “And I’m glad you choose to take it with me. Let today be about you.”

His eyes search Cass’ face for any sign of uncertainty. He doesn’t want to start this thing off wrong. But is that possible as it had started with Cass yanking his ass out of hell?

“You sure?”

Leaning in, Cass presses a kiss against his lips and Dean shivers as he tastes himself. “I’m sure Dean.” Cass murmurs. “Thank you for today.”

“You too.” he says thickly.

It’s funny how he can’t seem to think straight now that Cass’ face is so close to his. Is he looking at his freckles? Does he care? What is he seeing to warrant that soulful look?

At that moment, Dean almost wishes that he had feelings for him.

Sure, Cass had said that his lines were blurred too. But it’s no guarantee that by the end of this he would have romantic feelings towards Dean. There’s also no guarantee that Dean will have feelings for Cass.

The uncertainty is driving him mad.

He doesn’t want to screw it up.

But he doesn’t want to hold back and miss out on something that could be beautiful.

…

Castiel leaves the Impala first. He knows that Dean needs a few minutes to come back to himself. And truthfully? So does Castiel.

Those last few hours with Dean had been magical. Something he had longed for since that night at the strip club. And as euphoric as it had been, he can’t seem to stave off the niggling sensation of inadequacy that followed.

What if he put his heart into this and then Dean decided that it wasn’t enough – that Castiel wasn’t enough. He fears the prospect of Dean not having feelings for him now is even more daunting than before. Now he knows the taste of Dean’s lips and the pleasure of hearing his moans. Castiel knows what Dean’s face looks like on the brink of ecstasy. His hands remember the warmth of Deans skin and the way it trembled and melted under his touch.

So now that he knows what it could be… he doesn’t know how he will survive if it can’t be.

He wants to focus on the positive: that Dean must feel something beyond friendship for him. But the possibility that Dean’s feelings may not be strong enough to overcome who he believes he should be. Or worse… that Dean tries to be with him but he can’t stand it.

So many things could go wrong. Just one slip and they can ruin their friendship forever. But holding back could ruin them before they got the chance to even start.

Castiel retreats to his room, replacing his box and the chit from the Ferris wheel.

He stares down at his hands, thinking. His hand drifts down slowly, into the pocket of his pants and he retrieves the little book flipping it open and turning the pages unseeingly.

It doesn’t feel fair to read it now. It’s like a ‘cheat sheet’ to Dean.

He doesn’t want Dean to fall for him based on something like this. Based on a book that hundreds or maybe even thousands of Supernatural fans had purchased from bookstores. It feels cheap.

Castiel wants to start this right.

Glancing down he rubs his fingers across the title.

‘How To Make A Righteous Man Fall In Love With You Without Him Even Knowing.’

Maybe in the beginning, that’s what Castiel had wanted. To sneak into Dean’s heart.

But now, having experienced first-hand what being with Dean could be like, he wants Dean to fall in love with Castiel the right way. And he wants the other man to be aware of every single moment from now till then.

Running his fingers once more along the spine of the book, Castiel picks up his pen and makes a small annotation on the inside. Then, he closes it, with a silent vow to never open it again, and tucks it into his box.

‘Opening this book made me take a chance… closing it means that I stand a chance.’

Chapter Text

How do you greet the guy who sucked you off last night?

A fleeting look and quick retreat seems to be the Winchester way.

Dean sighs.

This isn’t how he wanted things to start out for them. He steps back into the kitchen, finding that Cass’ eyes have never left him.

“Morning sunshine.” He says teasingly.

“Good morning Deanpie.” Cass says with equal seriousness.

That seriousness makes Dean chortle with laughter.

“Just passing you in the kitchen is kinda a dick move after… what happened.”

“It’s fine Dean.” Cass tells him earnestly, “I know this is new for you and I don’t want to overstep.”

“Just so you know, calling me an ass when I act like one isn’t overstepping.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Dean grins. “You know, I was worried that things would change between us.”

“Believe it or not, I felt the same way.”

Cass then turns and pours him a cup of coffee, resting the steaming mug into his hands before pressing a sweet kiss to the side of his mouth.

Dean’s body melts. The smell of coffee and Cass’ touch lingering on his skin. He feels safe. At home.

Dean is bliss… until he feels Cass’ entire body lock up.

“Dean.” He breathes, his voice laced with regret. “I’m sorry. I just … forgot where I was. It won’t happen again. I swear it.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean blurts.

“The bubble.”

The bubble.

Well, it might as well have been invisible to Dean. He’d forgotten about it completely.

“I guess… we’ll just have to extend it to the kitchen.”

“We can do that?” Cass asks, cocking his head sceptically.

Dean shrugs. “I don’t see why not. You can blow a bubble bigger.”

“I can live with that.” Cass assures.

…

Dean heads straight for his room after breakfast. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do yet, but he knows that it’s got to be something that can bring him back to equilibrium.

He’s still undecided on reading Chuck’s book. It doesn’t feel right.

He doesn’t want to screw this up and do the wrong thing.

But he doesn’t want the doubt that would come from using the book as a cheat sheet.

He’d doubt himself forever if he used the book. If he’s doing this, he’s going to do it right and whatever feelings that come – Dean knows they will be natural.

One problem still remains.

Cass.

Cass and his feelings. Or possible lack thereof.

That’s one of the biggest deterrents; his uncertainty about Cass’ feelings. He doesn’t want to pressure his friend into telling him. Putting him on the spot and asking would do them both no good either.

Which brings him back to the book.

He hadn’t made it to the halfway mark but as he progresses, Dean finds that the information gets more detailed. So detailed that he had wanted to ask Chuck to take these books out of circulation. They’re too revealing and any enemy could get their hands on it easily. A book so detailed should say something about Cass and his love life right?

Dean regrets not being more probing when it came to things like this.

Dean squares his shoulders.

Cass won’t appreciate him reading about him any more than he had appreciated Dean snooping through his box. He knows what he needs to do.

He shuts his eyes.

…

“Cass. We need to talk.”

Dean’s prayer hits him like a brick, his dire tone almost causing him to drop the coffee cup he has.

He sets the cup on the table haphazardly and rushes over to Dean’s room.

Things had been nice so far. Dean being open with him, letting them do intimate things together. It had been dream like, so Castiel supposes it’s only right that it come crashing down. Dean had decided that he doesn’t want this. Castiel can tell by his tone. That whatever courage he had withers away as he stands at Dean’s door.

In the two times his knuckles rap across the door Castiel feel’s his world teeter on the edge of a huge cliff.

When Dean sees his face he pulls back in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

Cass can barely find it in himself to keep it together. That’s what he gets for hoping.

“If you want to end this just say so.”

“Cass… I don’t want to end this.”

He blinks up at Dean. “Then why did you pray to me?”

“Cause I wanted to talk to you.” Dean admits. “Do this right.”

“Oh.” He says, still somewhat glumly.

Dean awkwardly lets him in, closing the door behind them.

“Let’s sit.” He says.

Cass perches on the edge of Dean’s bed. They’ve been in this exact position before. Dean’s knees pressing up against his own and his coat hanging off the edge of the bed.

“So, I want to let you know that you can talk freely here. Tell me the truth and if you don’t want to answer, that’s okay too.”

That makes Castiel nervous instantly.

“I’ll answer, as best as I can.”

“That’s all I ask.” Dean says smiling at him serenely.

“I talked to my mom.” Dean continues, clearly wanting to be the one to start the discussion. Maybe he thinks that if he shows Castiel that he can open up, then Castiel will follow suit. It’s sweet, he thinks, but unnecessary.

He always comes when Dean calls. He always does whatever is needed. This time is no different.

“She gave me this pretty nice speech about love and that sometimes when you do romantic stuff you can get it confused with the real deal.”

“What are you saying then?”

“That maybe we should take it slow.” Dean says, scrutinising Castiel’s reaction.

“How much slower would you like to go Dean?”

“Last night…” The flush is back. “It was amazing Cass.” One of the few things he can feel pride about is making Dean feel that good.

Dean’s next words come out uncertain. “But I think we should wait before we try it again.”

“You regret it then?” That’s why he hadn’t let Dean reciprocate. Castiel knew that if Dean paniced, that that would have made the situation ten times worse.

“No. I don’t regret it.” Dean insists. “But I just think we should…”

“Take it slow?” he repeats. “I really don’t know what that entails.”

“Well, me neither.” Dean says, “You know me, I …”

Swallowing the rest of that sentence, Dean tries to cover it with a smile. Oh, but Castiel knows. He’d watched Dean pick up women from bars most night and watched as they preened under his careful attention. Jealousy had hacked away at him just like it is now. For a woman whose face Dean would forget the next day.

“And – you know, just sayin’ while we’re doing this. It’s just me and you. No one else.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “I think we can do this then.”

“Just one last thing. And remember, you don’t have to answer.” Dean says, his hands readjusting his grip on the edge of the bed. “Do you think you have feelings for me?”

Chapter Text

“Just one last thing. And remember, you don’t have to answer.” Dean says, his hands readjusting his grip on the edge of the bed.

There’s a point in everyone’s life, where the entire thing just narrows to one pivotal moment. And for Castiel, this is his.

“Do you think you have feelings for me?” By the way Dean looks at him, by the way his soul flutters, Castiel almost dares to think that Dean wants him to say yes.

Of all the things, this is the one he was least prepared for.

“Dean.” He says quietly.

How is he to answer that?

Lying to Dean has never wrought anything good. Castiel knows that what he’s been doing – hiding all these years, the veiled glances, the guise of only friendship – that it’s horrible wrong and misleading.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Dean. He does. More than anything.

Dean’s reaction is what he’s scared of. Now, that he knows that Dean may have feelings, his reaction will hurt all the more when Dean finally figures it out. Casiel wants to keep his cards close till then.

It’s clear that Dean regrets even asking the question. The way he swallows nervously, and glances off to the side, his face set in a grim line. He’s beating himself up over this – Castiel knows his expressions well.

He loves Dean. He loves Dean with all that he is and all that he has.

Castiel has been in love with him for such a long time.

And the silence that he’s adopted has become a habit. He knows in his heart that this must be love. To say the words out loud though? That’s an entirely different story. That makes it real. That makes it possible for Dean to reject him.

“I shouldn’t be springing this on you.” Dean says suddenly. “That was a dick move.”

Castiel remains silent. Because, it really was.

He can see the need gnawing at Dean. The need to know. To not be the only one with something on the line.

“If my answer is no…” he says quietly, testing the waters. “What would you do?”

Dean almost looks stricken. “Then… we stop. Whatever this is. And we try to save our friendship.”

“You’d stop?” he asks. “Just like that?”

“I mean… yeah?” It comes out as a question. “There’s no point if I know that there’s no chance.”

“That’s fair.” He acquiesces. “But… what if I said that I do? That I always have?”

“Is that what you’re saying Cass?”

“I’m saying what if. What if, Dean? Then what would you do?”

Dean swallows before focusing directly on Castiel. “Then I’d try my damn best to be good enough for you.”

Castiel scoffs at that. It’s typical Dean to not consider himself enough. If they do try this – and even if they don’t – Castiel is going to make Dean feel loved. Feel like he’s enough.

“But what about your feelings?” Castiel finds himself asking. “You say you aren’t sure.”

“You know that’s bullshit Cass.” Dean says smiling crookedly at him.

Castiel feels his heart halt as the implication of those words collides with him. “But you said that you weren’t sure.”

“I know.” Dean says. “I want to be sure. I know I’m not supposed to be going in here with any biases Cass… but I’m prayin’ that this is real. I think we’d be good together. It’s like I told you… you and me, we’re just better together.”

Euphoria floods through him at those words. Dean wants this. He wants to try. He still may not be entirely sure, but no one in a relationship is ever sure of anything at first. Dean could love him… or grow to love him in any case.

If he says this, it can never be taken back. It’s a part of him that once he gives to Dean, he knows that he will never get back, ever. Not if they break up, or grow apart or fall out of love.

Because he knows that Dean is it for him. His one and only chance at happiness.

The words come closer, on the tip of his lips when Dean presses a hand over his lips, once more sealing the words away.

“Don’t say anything yet.” He whispers. “I know ten years is a long time. I know things can get frustrating and that all those years of waiting might have brought on a sense of urgency. But Cass,” Dean strokes cups his cheek with his free hand, using his thumb to brush at the longer grains of hair. “time isn’t running out for us. We’re doing this. Finally. Let’s do it right. I know I just sprung this on you and that wasn’t fair of me. So think about it alright… then, only when you’re ready, you come back and tell me what comes next.”

Castiel nods against Dean’s hands. Their position is reminiscent of when Castiel first rebelled. His first real rebellion anyway. Dean pressed against the wall, Castiel’s hand pressed over his lips and their fate depending solely on Dean’s decisions.

Now, their fate rests on him. On his ability to say a few little words.

“Whatever you choose,” Dean assures. “I don’t want you to feel as though you have to go. You always have a place here with us.”

His hands move to grasp Dean’s, gently drawing it away from his mouth. “Thank you Dean.”

Castiel moves to stand, but Dean’s hands clamp down on his. “Wait.” He says urgently, “Something to think about when you’re deciding.”

“What are you doing?” Castiel wonders.

“I care about you.”

“Dean…” he sees Dean’s face moving closer and closer. But they aren’t in the bubble.

“We can make the bubble a little bigger.” Dean murmurs against his lips, as though reading his mind.

The being he rebelled for, was hunted for and had everything for, time and time again is looking at him as though the universe is contained within his grace.

It’s a moment of rapture.

A moment of unending understanding; devoid of judgement and selfishness. With his sweet kiss, Dean lets him know that it’s okay if they don’t go through with this.

It’s one last goodbye or the first ‘hello’ of their new lives. Something to remember; not for the quality or passion behind the kiss itself, but for the unity and comfort it allows when everything around him feels like it’s crumbling.

Chapter Text

Dean watches as Castiel ambles out of his room.

He knows that he’s pretty much the king of jackasses for just dropping that question of Cass when he’d already made up his mind that that wasn’t what he wanted to do. It had just… popped up. Unwantedly.

It was hard to tell if Cass was leaning his way or not, so he’d taken the blow. Shown Cass that he had something on the line too if this thing went sideways.

Then again, Dean is never sure if he’s taking liberties with Cass. What if he really doesn’t have feelings? What if everyone is wrong? What if he’s only doing this because he’s that good a friend? To spare Dean’s feelings?

Maybe that’s why he had insisted that Cass think it over.

The emotions on his face were too confusing for Dean to interpret.

But he told Cass.

He hadn’t planned to.

He could barely admit it to himself.

Mom knew that he wouldn’t have been able to say it yet. His mind couldn’t consider the thought of having non-platonic feelings for Cass. His brain had avoided the thought completely even when the question always plagued his mind.

Like he told Cass, him not being sure if he had feelings was bullshit.

Of course he has feelings. Maybe he’s not head over heels yet, but it’s undeniable that Dean feels something.

And Cass had deserved to know that. As hard as it may have been to admit – to himself and to another person – Cass deserves to have all the information before making a decision like this.

It leaves Dean feeling lost, not being the one in control of the situation. But he’d seen a similar look on Cass face as they were speaking. A lost, fish-out-of-water look that pained Dean to witness.

He meant it when he said that they should do this right. Before they change the entire dynamic of their relationship, they both have to be damn sure that this is what they want.

Dean is sure now.

…

Castiel feels like his coat is on fire as he exits Dean’s room.

Everything he had said was exactly what he had wanted to hear.

The thing is, he’s never heard so committed about something.

Dean feels something.

For Castiel.

He wants to scream it as much as he wants to hunker down and hide.

Pining from a distance was something he’d grown accustomed to. If he agrees to what Dean is asking, that opens up a whole new world of hurt for him. This makes everything real. And anything that’s real can be lost… or destroyed… or worse yet… forgotten.

Castiel doesn’t want to be another empty face in Dean’s mind. A warm body used for but a night and that Dean expects to vanish when the daylight streams in.

But with Dean’s offer it seems as though it’s all or nothing. Either Castiel lies and Dean doesn’t explore his feelings or he tells Dean the truth: that he’s been in love with him for almost a decade and see how Dean handles that.

The chances of them having a happy relationship are slim. They battle enough just as friends. As lovers they’d only have more things to fight about. That’s if Dean’s feelings even last that long. Dean is convinced that they’re there, but what if he can’t – can’t love Castiel.

That would break him.

To know that he had Dean’s affection but hadn’t been able to keep it.

‘I know ten years is a long time. I know things can get frustrating and that all those years of waiting might have brought on a sense of urgency. But Cass, time isn’t running out for us. We’re doing this. Finally. Let’s do it right.’

Dean’s words had sounded so sincere. But it’s all too much. To suddenly be given everything you ever wanted in life, yet it hinges on one decision.

It should be the easiest thing in the world; to tell Dean that he loves him. Yet Castiel feels his tongue lock up whenever he tries.

He knows the power of those words. He’s heard Dean say it all but once; to Sam. Sam, the brother he had raised and died for without a second thought. It seemed redundant. Of course he loves Sam.

Those words aren’t something Dean uses frivolously. He chooses the people he shares them with care and uses the words sparingly even then.

Everything is up to him now.

Make or break.

And Castiel breaks.

He feels his legs freeze in the middle of the hallway. It’s then that he takes in everything around him. The plants that Dean insisted they put at every corner to ‘get some fresh air.’ Castiel still smells like Dean’s new favourite scent: lavender.

Going back to his room will only remind him of Dean even more. From the box under his bed to the new baby blue sheets that Dean had helped him pick out.

That room is out of the question. Staying in the kitchen is just asking for trouble. He doesn’t want to leave… what if Dean took that as him not wanting to stay?

“Cass.”

Sam’s gentle voice springs him from his spiral.

“You okay man?”

“No.”

Sam presses his lips together and nods. “I can see that. What’s wrong? I – if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I feel like I’m so tired. Like I’m about to melt into the floor.” He feels woozy just talking. “And – and it’s so confining in here. I can’t breathe. Someone tell Dean that his plants aren’t working. They need to grow better and learn how to photosynthesise.”

A harsh chuckle leaves his throat. “Why can’t Dean learn how to maintain his plants. All we ask for is some oxygen!”

“Cass.” Sam says, in that same gentle tone. “Angels don’t need to breathe.”

“Damn it Sam!” he hisses.

“Let’s go for a drive.” Sam suggests, trying to look lively enough to motivate Castiel into going. “It’ll help you clear your head.”

Castiel swallows. “I don’t want to be in the garage right now.”

Sam nods. “That’s okay.” He seems as though he wants to add something, but holds himself back.

“I’ll bring the car around. Okay?”

Castiel feels like a drama queen when he shakes his head yet again. “I don’t want to be in the Impala.”

Sam just shrugs it off. “That’s okay. We’ll take something else.”

Some of the weight seems to ease. “Thank you, Sam.”

Sam gives him a small smile and a haphazard salute. “Don’t mention it.”

Chapter Text

Sam pulls the car around the front, glancing around for Cass. It feels strange driving something other than Baby and it feels even stranger that it’s just him and Cass alone.

He feels like shit really, for all the pressure he’s been putting on his friend recently.

“Hop in.” Sam encourages as he stops on the side.

Cass’ face still looks haunted and uneasy, but he gets in nonetheless.

Sam glances at his right mirror and winces. Should he even mention this? He knows that Cass likes his coat. “Cass, your coat is hanging out.”

Cass opens the door, yanks the trench inside and slams the door shut.

Music doesn’t feel right. So Sam just leaves the glasses down and drives them in silence.

Cass seems to want to avoid anything that involves Dean so bars and diners are out. Movies wouldn’t allow them to talk much. Cass doesn’t eat. Clothes are unnecessary.

Sam ends up taking them to a nearby farmer’s market.

After a sceptical look, Cass hops out of the car and glances around.

“What are we doing here, Sam?” Cass’ voice is sullen.

Sam sighs. “You looked kind of cooped up in the bunker. I though this might be nice. There’s nature and plants and vegetables.”

A smile flashes across Cass’ face. “This is the last place Dean would come to.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah.” He waits a beat, analysing Cass’ stance. Once he doesn’t seem likely to eat his head off, Sam gestures to a bench off to the side. “You wanna head over there?”

“Okay.” Cass says.

When they settle down, Sam clears his throat. “So, what’s wrong Cass? I’ve never seen you like that before.”

Cass looks away. “It’s – it’s nothing.”

Yeah, he probably deserves that.

“Look man, I know I’ve been … nosey and unsupportive recently. But I want to change that.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Sam.” Cass says in exasperation. “It’s that – I don’t know. By all means, I should be happy right now. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Sam considers that. “Well, first off, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Cass gives him a dubious look.

“I mean it.” Sam assures. “It’s perfectly normal for people to get something they’ve always wanted and feel lousy. I remember when I opened my Stanford admissions letter. I wanted it so bad. Yet, when I saw that ‘accepted’ at the top, I felt my heart constrict. I wanted to leave more than anything. But I was so worried. About Dean and even about dad. I didn’t know how to feel but I knew how I was supposed to… and that’s what made me feel so crummy.”

“I think… I understand.” Cass says slowly. “I’ve been offered everything I’ve ever wanted from this existence. But if I take it, that means that I can lose it. Sam, I can’t bear to lose it.”

“You’re talking about Dean, right?” he asks quietly. “You guys talked.”

A twitch is all he receives in reply.

“Look… I know everyone keeps saying what a good couple you make but it’s all about what you think Cass. You can even think that you would be great and no go through with this. There’s no obligation. Dean will understand that.”

“I know.” Cass whispers. “But he said that it’s up to me. I’m the one who will decide whether we try this or not.”

“It’s too much pressure.” Sam says in realisation.

“Much.” Cass agrees. “What would you do?”

“No.” he says instantly. “I can’t tell you what’s right for you. And I’m glad Dean didn’t either. He must have made his position clear.”

“He did.” Cass replies. “He wants this.”

“You two – you click. Nowadays, you don’t find that very often. It’s not something you want to pass up easily.”

“So you’re saying I should do it?” Cass wonders, looking up at him hopefully.

“I’m saying… look at all the factors before you decide.”

“I love Dean.” Cass says instantly. “But I’m – worried that he may change his mind along the way.”

“There’s nothing anyone can do to take that fear away Cass.” He says gently. “Not me and not even Dean. You’ve got to be willing to live with the risk.”

“But how can I?”

“We have one pro and one con.” Sam says instead.

Cass sighs. “I don’t want to be … just another one night stand. If Dean tries this with me and decides that we don’t … fit. I don’t want to have to look at him every day after and know that I’m nothing but a one hit for him.”

“I don’t want to be another body to him. A – a faceless, nameless person who will vanish in his eyes when the morning light hits them.” Sam can tell that particular confession takes a lot out of Cass.

“Then talk to him. Even though you love him, that doesn’t mean you can’t think about yourself.” Sam says, hoping to embolden him. “He gave you leeway in that you have time. Talk to him. Sort out all the details and you can start or you can not.”

Cass’ expression is pinched as he mulls over Sam’s words. It’s nice to know that he could help at least and take some of the pressure off.

“Should we head back then?” Cass asks, still seeming daunted by heading back.

“Not just yet.” Sam says. “We can pick up a few things.”

“Sure.”

“Like some honey.” He says brightly.

Just as he had hoped, the honey does the trick. Cass lights up like a Christmas tree and practically hops up from the bench.

“That sounds nice Sam.” Cass says sincerely. “And thank you for all your help today. When we get back, I’m going to state my position. I’ll tell Dean what I expect from this and encourage him to do the same. I don’t want to live in a bubble anymore.”

Chapter Text

“Cass!” Sam calls, looking around in the crowd. His height gives him the advantage, in that he doesn’t have to get on his tiptoes to see over the heads of the other patrons.

Things had been going great.

Till he lost Cass. It had been somewhere between the tomatoes and the honey that he first noticed the lack of a trench-coated figure shadowing him.

That should be fun explaining to Dean.

…

Dean kicks at the floor of his room. Sure, he’d done the nice guy thing and told Cass that decisions don’t need to be rushed. Now, he’s in the awkward position of having to wander around aimlessly, but nervously, with a ton of anxiety for an undetermined amount of time.

Maybe seeing Cass would help him.

Yeah, he decides. Venturing out of his room might be good. The only bad thing that could happen is seeing Sam in curlers, but then again, that hadn’t happened for a while.

He usually finds Cass in the kitchen or his room. Dean zips by his room but the door is already sprawling open. No Cass there. So the kitchen it is.

He’s figured out a while ago; that Cass had taken to hanging out in there so that he’d see Dean whenever he popped in for beer or snacks. Common sense had struck at some point, and he’d taken to leaving small caches of food in his room, to stop the constant trips. But then, he realized that he’d been seeing Cass less and less, so he ditched that habit and swung by the kitchen as much as possible. Sometimes, he even haggled Cass into movie night, and they both pretended that it was a chore; Dean to convince him to come and Cass to actually watch the movie.

Now, they’ll probably be doing more of the same. Dean can’t really see things changing between them if they decide to date.

Dating.

Cass as his boyfriend.

They haven’t discussed that yet either… labels. Cass isn’t really a boy, so he’s not sure if Cass would prefer the term ‘partner.’ Maybe he’d like ‘being each other’s Huckleberry.’

That has a nice ring to it. As soon as Cass makes a decision, Dean will be happy to bring that up. They still haven’t thought about the bubble. Are they still going to keep their relationship under wraps and seclude it to the darkest areas of the bunker?

At first, it had felt necessary. To do things in a place where they would remain undisturbed. But now? Sam saw them kiss. He’s pretty sure mom has no delusions after that enlightening talk with Dean. Most of the important people in their life already know.

Dean pulls up short at the entrance to the kitchen.

Cass isn’t here.

Dean forces himself to take slow steps as he heads for the garage. Cass must have just gone back to the Impala to think. He knows that they were talking about some heavy stuff back there. The Impala has always been a great place to talk or think. Dean will just peek in just to make sure he’s okay. Once he sees that Cass is in silent contemplation, he’ll just back it up and go eat a snack.

Cass isn’t there. The Impala rests in her parking spot, in all her glory but it’s blatantly empty.

Swallowing, Dean reminds himself not to be such a drama queen. Cass is probably lying down in the back seat. Sometimes being horizontal helps with thinking. Dean knows that well enough.

He peeps through the back window. Staring at the empty seats is what really propels his panic. What ignites it though? That would be the empty parking spot right across from Baby.

…

“Hey,” Sam says to the honey vendor. “Have you seen the guy I was here with?”

The elderly lady just shrugs helplessly and shakes her head.

“Damn it.” He mutters under his breath.

Maybe he should try calling?

Yeah. Sam whips out his phone and punches in Cass’ number. It rings about five times before being sent to voicemail.

Okay.

Action plan time.

Maybe Cass went back to the car or maybe he should pick up a pie for Dean, just to soften the blow. The latter sounds more practical.

Where could Cass have wandered off to anyway? It’s unlikely that he’s been attacked. This place is too crowded for that to not cause a hubbub. Maybe he just got distracted with some strange looking fruit or something. Whatever the case may be, he knows he has to find Cass before leaving.

Pie.

Dean likes cherry. But he also likes pecan and blueberry. Apple is high on his list too.

Sam should just buy all of them.

But, his eyes narrow as he approaches the pie shack, it seems as though someone has already beaten him to it.

“Cass.” He says urgently running up to him.

When Cass senses the speed of his approach, he moves to shield the brow bag, no doubt filled with pies.

“I thought I lost you for a second there.” He admits.

Cass just smiles in amusement. “I’m not leaving Sam. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I think I understand why Dean likes you,” Sam says with a grin, the fear he had felt just a few moments ago, fading seamlessly into the background.

“Why?” Cass wonders, taking the bait.

“You don’t forget the pie.”

…

It’s Dean who ends up sitting alone in the Impala, thinking.

He’d scared Cass off with all that talk of ‘commitment’ and ‘feelings.’ It doesn’t make sense. He stated the facts, suggested that Cass take ample time to think… where did it all fall apart?

Maybe he’d read this wrong after all. What if Cass didn’t have feelings for him? What if he realized that and left to spare himself the awkward explanation. This is exactly what he was afraid of.

He rests his head against the wheel. Should he even bother looking? Cass most likely doesn’t want to face him again and Dean doesn’t know how he can face Cass either. What he said before… that was a love confession. He knows it and Cass must too.

His head lifts as the garage door opens. The sudden barrage of sunlight makes it hard to see who it is but there’s no mistaking even the silhouette of Sam’s hair.

“Sam.” He calls, though his voice doesn’t carry far. It’s dragged down by the pain he feels.

Dean’s eyes widen as he spots the other figure in the car.

Cass.

Did Sam take him shopping or something?

“Dean,” Cass says in greeting, walking up to him cradling a large brown paper bag.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks, his voice still shaky from the scare.

Cass frowns at his tone. “It’s… pie. For you.”

“Who else would it be for?” Sam wonders aloud.

Sticking his tongue out at Sam, Dean takes the bag from Cass graciously. Peering inside, he feels his stomach flip at the array of flavors.

“Aww, Cass.” He croons still staring into the bag. “I can’t wait to eat this.”

Chapter Text

Dean is just cleaning off his second whole pie when Castiel clears his throat. He knows that, given the chance, Dean would continue until either he finishes the pies, or he dies of a blockage in his bloodstream. Good thing Castiel is right at his side; a shot of grace would do the trick.

“Sup, Cass?” he mumbles around a mouthful of pie. “You wanted a bite?”

“No, Dean.” He says with a smile. “I wouldn’t try to separate you from your pie.”

“Huh,” Dean says. “You have more common sense than Sam.”

“There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” Dean says amiably, “Shoot.”

“I don’t want to be another body to you. A – a faceless, nameless person who will vanish in your eyes when the morning light hits them.” He repeats the words he’d said to Sam.

It was a major concern, but Cass had been too afraid to say it. His time with Sam had given him enough courage about his doubts to tell Dean to his face.

For a moment, Dean almost looks queasy. “What? No.” He shakes his head vehemently. “Cass, no. That’s not how this is going to be.” Dean states, his voice steady and sincere. “It’s just going to be you, Cass, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that we last as long as we can. I understand where you’re coming from – I really do – especially given my not too squeaky clean record. But just so you know… we live in a bunker. There’s no morning light streaming in.”

Castiel swallows. He hadn’t expected such a simple answer from Dean. He expected at least some doubt about their feelings or their compatibility. Dean sounds sure now, surer than when they had last spoken.

“I’ll do everything I can to make this work as well,” Castiel assures. “I want this with you, Dean. The truth is that I’ve felt this way for a while.”

Shock shows on Dean’s face as clear as day. “What do you mean ‘a while?’ Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you never expressed any interest in men and I – I didn’t want to overstep.”

Clearing his throat, Dean looks away. “Maybe you were right not to say anything. I might not have been the most … accommodating had you brought this up a while ago.”

He thinks back to the play, to afterward with Mary and his vehement denial of having any feelings towards Castiel at all.

“So…” Castiel says slowly, “Does this mean that – you know – that we’re together now?”

Dean considers that a moment. “I guess it does.” He says, his small smile growing wider by the second. “I like you. You like me.”

“And we’re taking things slow?” Castiel reiterates. 

Dean nods.

“Does slow entail kissing?”

“It should, shouldn’t it?” Dean says.

It’s strange to think that they’ve already done this so many times. The staring, the drifting closer, and finally the moment their lips touch. Castiel never fails to marvel at their intimacy. The way Dean lets himself melt into him is tantalizing, the way their tongues touch is heady. Everything about it feels like lightning in the best way possible.

Dean pulls away first, panting for breath. But he keeps them connected by pressing their knees together. “So…” He gasps. “What about the bubble?”

“I don’t want to live in a bubble anymore, Dean.”

Nodding, Dean presses their heads together. “Me neither.”

“What do I call you then? My… boyfriend?”

Dean shivers. “I – honestly, it sounds kind of weird.” His eyes dash up to his, clearly looking for any signs of hurt.

“You know, Dean, I always thought that the bubble was a place. Somewhere where we could be together and do and say anything we please. Now that this is real… you’re my bubble in a perverse sort of way.”

“You think we should be bubbles instead of boyfriends?” Dean teases.

He snorts. “What I meant was that… maybe the bubble has always been you. I don’t care what you call us. Boyfriends, partners… all that matters is how we feel about each other. How we feel when we’re with each other.”

“I feel pretty damn good, Cass,” Dean says in a sultry voice.

“Me too.” he murmurs, pressing his face into Dean’s neck.

It’s nice to be able to do things like this without the fear of rejection. It seems as though Dean shares this feeling. Castiel feels his hand creeping up his back slowly as though afraid.

“Do what you’re doing, Dean.” He encourages poking his tongue out to touch Dean’s neck.

The gesture is unexpected and he feels Dean’s entire body jerk beneath him.

“Pretty slick, Cass.” He whispers, his hand continuing along its path with a bit more confidence now. His fingers reach the nape of his neck and pause, their first brush against his hair feels spectacular. Soon enough, Dean doesn’t seem content with just his fingertips. His hands thread their way through his hair, running his fingers back and forth, and clenching his hair in surprise when Castiel presses a wet kiss to his neck.

“I want to give you a hickey.” He announces.

Due to Metatron downloading an entire database of literature into his head, he’s well aware that some people like receiving hickeys while others do not. Dean might not like the idea because it leaves a love mark in plain view. Sam could see, or Mary, and he doesn’t know if Dean is really ready to go public.

“Okay,” Dean says instantly, seeming almost as excited as Castiel is about the idea. “You stop when the skin turns purple.”

“Won’t that hurt?” he asks with concern.

“Nah,” Dean assures. “Maybe I’ll even give you one. It would be kinda sexy to know that you’re walkin’ around with my mark on you.”

“I promise I won’t use my grace to heal it then.”

Dean chuckles. “Then I’d just have to do it again and again…” Dean nibbles at his neck to punctuate his words.

Castiel moans, leaning into the touch. This is what he wants. To be this close to Dean and not have to worry about someone seeing them or Dean freaking out. Dean had even taken his confession about loving him for some time now, in stride. Sure, he may not have said the words ‘I love you’ point-blank, but he could tell that Dean understood. He wants this to work so badly, maybe opening up to Dean all the way isn’t such a bad idea. Especially if he continues this new attitude throughout their relationship.

…

Dean is halfway into pouring his glass of milk when the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He tries to tell himself that it’s just Sam or Mom, sneaking around. But he’s never felt this way when Sam tries sneaking up on him.

The sound of a page turning has him reaching for a knife. The bunker was supposed to be a safe space. One where they didn’t have to walk around with their guns and knives strapped on, dammit!

“Hello, Squirrel.”

Dean stiffens as the light is flicked on.

Sure enough, it’s Crowley, sitting smugly at their kitchen table thumbing through some tiny book.

“You know… when I heard about you and feathers… I was intrigued.”

Dean narrows his eyes. He goes for the diplomatic approach as he still isn’t sure whether this is a friendly visit. “Surely, you have better places to catch up on your evening reading.”

“Oh, I do love a good love story.”

“Really?” Dean says uneasily. He still isn’t comfortable about Crowley of all people knowing about him and Cass. They’re still so new and knowing Crowley, he’ll definitely use this as a weakness to exploit them in the not so distant future.

Crowley just hums at him and turns back to his book.

“What are you reading?” Dean asks, stepping closer. Crowley hasn’t killed him yet and there’s not much he can do with a steak knife in any case.

“Like I said,” says Crowley, lifting the cover to show him the title. “I love a good love story.”

‘How To Make A Righteous Man Fall In Love With You Without Him Even Knowing – Carver Edlund

Chapter Text

“Like I said,” says Crowley, lifting the cover to show him the title. “I love a good love story.”

‘How To Make A Righteous Man Fall In Love With You Without Him Even Knowing – Carver Edlund

Dean rears away from the thing, like it burns him.

He doesn’t let Crowley distract him this time.

“Sam!” he bellows. “Kitchen. Bring your angel blade!”

“Really?” Crowley asks, still seated, as he isn’t worried about being murdered. “Can’t we be civil?”

“No,” Dean says, crossing his arms. “Now, why are you here? And what is that?”

Crowley looks bewildered. “This?” He raises the book with a tiny grin. “This is just something I picked up on my way over. Did you want one?”

Dean takes a controlling breath. “Is it -?”

“Ohh, this book is all about you.” Crowley croons. “About making you fall in love.” He casts the book a sour glance. “The title is kind of a spoiler though. This moron was never good at naming things. This title… it just doesn’t leave any mystery.”

Dean hears footsteps, but he doesn’t dare turn. “In here, Sam!” he calls, keeping his gaze firmly on Crowley. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“You have a cat?” Dean hears from somewhere down the hall. Ugh. Only one person babbles about cats, and it isn’t Sam. “You know, they bring in animals because they think their human is lazy and bad at hunting? Which is ironic since you are a hun-”

Cass freezes as he rounds the corner, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he jerks to a halt.

“Crowley.” he seethes, flicking his wrist so that his angel blade slides into his hand.

“Well, while that’s certainly better than listening to you talk about barbed penises… that was an expression.” Dean jokes in an attempt to get Cass to not stab Crowley. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam enter as well, he has his angel blade raised and ready to stab. No one is killing Crowley until he gets some answers about that book.

“I bet you never grow bored with them around, Moose.”

Sam presses his lips together, expertly ignoring the jab. “What’s going on, Dean?”

Cass seems to catch on quickly. “Crowley.” He hisses. “I thought I sensed something… but I didn’t think…” he looks around helplessly. “I thought the bunker was safe.”

“It’s fine,” Sam assures, keeping his focus on Crowley.

“Can we all just stop being drama queens?” Crowley asks in exasperation.

“You started it.” Dean fires back.

“No.” He says, testily, “If I were being a drama queen, I’d be smacking you all against the wall like you’re a piñata.”

“Great,” Dean says sarcastically.

“What is that?” Cass’ voice is shrill.

Crowley grins. “Oh, my little love story?” he fingers the book, ensuring that the title is displayed prominently for both Sam and Cass to see.

Sam does a double take while Cass just stares, shell shocked.

Oh.

Oh.

Dean can see how bad this looks.

“Nothing’s happening between us,” Dean assures, waving his hands wildly as though to shoo away any thoughts Cass might have about him and Crowley.

“Not right now anyway,” Crowley says with a wink. “If things go my way, Dean, you’ll be writhing under me or over – I don’t have a preference.”

“It says how to make him fall in love… not how to make him sleep with you!” Cass says indignantly, his face is the picture of rage.

Dean can relate. If he weren’t so numb, he’d be livid. He’d be ranting about the infringement on his privacy, about the injustice of Chuck even writing a book like this... then to himself, for being the biggest hypocrite to walk the earth.

Chancing a glance over to Cass, he wonders if he should just spill the beans about his ‘cheat sheet.’ Their relationship is still so new and fragile. Cass gave him a chance when no one else in their right mind would have. If he finds out that Dean got an ‘in’ based on a lie… he’d call it off for sure. It wouldn’t matter that Dean hadn’t even touched the book in weeks – well, days.

It isn’t fair. Cass had apparently been pining from afar for years, and now that he’s finally had the chance to express himself, Dean might just screw it up.

“I’m only sleeping with Cass.” He blurts, causing Sam to make a choking noise, his eyes bulging out of his head. Dean is quick to correct his mistake. “I mean - we haven’t slept together - yet. But Cass is the only one I want to sleep with.” he adds for clarity, he doesn’t want Cass thinking that he’s not interested in pursuing a physical relationship eventually. “Stop looking at me like that, Sam!”

Cass though, gives him an appreciative nod; he knows better than to think Dean is a cheater. But Dean can still see Crowley looking at Cass, like a hawk eyes it’s prey before it swoops down.

“Hmm,” is all Crowley says.

“So… you came for Dean then?” Sam interjects, breaking everyone away from their staring contests.

“Squirrel and I had so much fun the last time we were together.” Crowley makes a faux pouty face. “We did extraordinary things to triplets, then, we almost did tee-shirts: Crowley and Dean, Together Forever.”

“I remember that,” Dean says evenly. “Except I said we should use ‘Fergus.’” 

Sam suppresses a laugh.

Visibly irritated, Crowley shoots him a glare. “Can it, Moose.”

With a two-fingered gesture, Crowley calls Dean over.

“Look at this.” He says gesturing to the page. “Isn’t this so ‘Dean?’”

Taking the bait, Deans leans in. He should have heard about this book. Though, he hadn’t been stalking Chuck as much as he should have as of late. He’s definitely buying this one. A book about him? He hopes Chuck hadn’t gone right down to the length and breadth of things this time around.

The first thing that catches his eye is:

Dean Winchester, despite all looks and appearances, is not a manly man. Flannel is more Sam’s shtick, to be honest. He enjoys looking good, in any way he can manage. Be it ties or shoes or a cowboy get up. To woo him, you must look sharp. He likes it when all the assets aren’t readily available. (Can we hear a round of applause for Castiel’s trench coat?)

“I do not like that trench coat!” he says in a huff. “It’s hideous.” Then, he turns to Cass to placate him. “You make it work though, it’s just not what I’d call ‘a turn on.’ Sure, it’s nice and warm and when I see it, I feel safe but-  I’ll give him one thing. I do enjoy cowboys…. Take note, Cass. Or I guess you already know.” He says with a grin, thinking back to Cass’ tryst as Dr. Sexy.

Although looking at Cass, he doesn’t seem concerned with him. He just stares blankly at the wall… or at Crowley, who’s looking at him again, like he’s about to eat him alive.

“Where’d you even get that thing?” Sam asks, always the focused one.

“A carrier pigeon dropped it into my lap.” He deadpans. “No, really. You’d never guess where I plucked this thing from.”

They wait in silence for Crowley to complete that thought.

“This is the part where you guess.” He stresses the ‘s.’

“I don’t know,” Dean says, annoyed by this whole charade. There must be some other reason he came here. There’s no one reason with this pest. “In a bookstore?”

“So simple-minded, Squirrel. Maybe Moose has a more insightful answer.”

“You – uh – I don’t know. You tortured it out of Chuck?” Sam stammers.

Hmm, that might make sense, given that Dean hasn’t heard a peep about this book.

His eyes fall to Cass. “What about you? Any guesses, Feathers? What? Cat got your tongue?”

Chapter Text

Cass looks stricken and at a complete loss for words. Sam is about to step in… deflect Crowley’s attention, but Dean beats him to it. Pressing a swift kiss to Cass’ cheek, he glares stonily at Crowley.

“Cass, you watch him for a minute. Sam and I need to talk.” Dean tugs on Sam’s shoulder drawing his attention away from Crowley.

Cass just nods, turning to his task.

Sam is kind of worried about Cass stabbing Crowley. But Dean is insistent, dragging him out of the room.

“But Dean, I-” Sam sighs, in defeat as Dean talks over him.

“This has to be linked to those demons he had following us,” Dean reasons.

Sam nods. “That’s a reasonable assumption. Do you think they were doing recon for Crowley, to see if the stuff in the book was really true?”

“What else could it be?”

“But … why?” It’s not like Crowley to just do something without expecting a reward. It could be argued that Dean is the reward… but that still seems fishy. In all the time he’s known Crowley, he’s never been interested in romance. Power always seemed like more of a turn on.

But then if he gets Dean under his thumb, that would be a sort of power. Dean calls the shots. Controlling a Winchester would bring him major bragging rights and help solidify his place on the throne. If he has Dean wrapped around his finger, Sam won’t be left with many options.

“Maybe you should stay away from him,” Sam suggests, drawing an incredulous expression from Dean. “Just till we get that book away. What if it’s real, Dean?”

Dean bristles, clearly disconcerted by that notion. He must be thinking back to the section that Crowley let him read, because Sam can hear him mumbling. “I guess the part about the trench-coat … it was kind of true.”

“So you’ll stay away?” Sam tries to confirm. He chooses to spare Dean’s dignity and pretend he didn’t hear him validate his trench-coat fetish.

“I don’t like the way he looks at Cass.” Dean blurts, ignoring his question.

Sam had noticed the smug glances and predatory stares. Quips seemingly directed at Cass.

“Just leaving them alone in there is giving me heartburn.” Dean begins to pace and Sam gets anxious. He wouldn’t put it past Dean to storm into the room and kill Crowley, along with any chances they have of figuring this out.

“Dean,” Sam murmurs, breaking him out of his worry. “This is a bad time, I know, but I should have told you before.”

“Told me what?” Dean seems tense now, expecting the worse.

Sam chuckles and nudges his shoulder. “It’s nothing bad. I’m just happy for you. You guys can get past this Crowley thing. Cass really cares about you and so do Mom and I.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean breathes, seeming emboldened by his support.

It means a lot to Sam too. That his brother, the one who he usually depends on and looks to for confirmation, thinks so highly of his opinion. “To make you feel better we can try to limit Cass’ contact with Crowley too.” If Cass agrees to stay away, Sam thinks to himself. But they can work on that later.

“Mom and I can keep an eye on him,” Sam promises. “Just… why aren’t we exorcising him or trying to chain him in the dungeon?”

“Because of that book,” Dean says. “As long as he has it, he can’t be allowed to leave. I don’t think he wants to leave anyway.”

“Why not?” Sam wonders. Does Dean know something he doesn’t?

“Well, he was reading the book in our kitchen. There’s no real reason for him to even show it to us. Wouldn’t it be smarter to ‘woo’ me if we didn’t know?” Dean reasons. “We should find a way to keep him in check. He can’t just roam around the bunker.”

“I agree we need a way to control him while we figure out his motives. What kind of person reads a book like that?” Sam says with disgust. Making someone fall in love with you without them even knowing… it’s pretty much what happens in real life… but the book is an invasion of privacy.

“What kind of person writes a book like that?” Dean spits wringing his hands together.

Chuck.

The ‘we have guns and we’ll find you’ approach doesn’t work well when you’re dealing with your creator.

…

Castiel watches through blurred vision as the Winchesters leave the room. How could he be so stupid? In all his bliss, he forgot about the book. He should have incinerated it the moment Dean said yes to being with him.

Now Crowley’s here to get Dean back and he has the perfect ammunition to sink him with. Crowley already has more sexual experience with Dean than he does. An orgy. Dean never mentioned that but then again, he never mentions details from him demon days if he can help it.

It’s bad enough that Crowley has the upper hand with Dean in terms of pleasure, but now he has leverage over Castiel as well.

Crowley grins smugly at him, leaning against the wall to face him. “Finders keepers, losers weepers,” He taunts, waving the book to emphasize his point.

“Crowley.” Castiel hisses. “I could stab you now and Dean would only be mildly annoyed.”

Crowley shrugs, unconcerned. “The truth always gets out, Cassie.” Crowley smiles then. “That’s the name of Dean’s first love, isn’t it?”

Clenching his jaw, he struggles to remain still. Stabbing Crowley would be the easiest thing in the world. He could step forward and trip over a piece of air, tumbling forward, the hand with his angel blade flailing wildly as he tries to brace. It would be a tragedy, cleaning Crowley’s blood from the floors. But, accidents happen and he can feel the angel blade burning a hole into his coat.

“You can’t just leave stuff lying around,” Crowley says, seeming more and more amused. “Books, boyfriends, someone can just snatch them up.”

“Dean won’t want you.” He says sourly.

“Maybe… but he didn’t want to be with you either,” Crowley points out. “And your little cheat sheet worked in your favor. What’s stopping it from working in mine?”

“I barely used it,” Castiel argues. Using it at all will forever remain his greatest failing, it leaves doubt in his mind as to whether Dean is really with him for him. But surely one or two tricks wouldn’t have been enough.

“And look how far you’ve come.” Crowley snips. “I’ve read this puppy cover to cover, just think of the things I can do.”

Oh, and thanks to the orgy imagery from earlier, Castiel can definitely picture it.

A self-satisfied expression manifests on Crowley’s face. “You know… I think I can weasel my way in like that. How do you feel about having a threesome, Cassie?”

Castiel feels nauseous. Can Crowley convince Dean to do these things? Had he convinced Dean to do these things?

“What do you want, Crowley?” he demands. There must be some reason for him showing himself, revealing his plan so soon. Castiel will do anything to help him if it means keeping him away from Dean.

“Well, since you’re asking…” Crowley raises his brows expectantly. “I’d like to complete my set.”

“Set of what?” Castiel wonders.

“Tablets.”

“The Angel Tablet is broken. Irreparable.”

“Those tablets are old news,” He says dismissively.

Castiel is taken aback. Those tablets have been Crowley’s long-time obsession, for him to just cast it aside…

“I want the Winchester Tablets. And look at that! You’ve already helped me find the first one.”

Chapter Text

It takes Sam a moment to connect Dean’s guilt-ridden face with something he should have paid more attention to from the start.

“You have one.” He whispers, making sure to keep his voice low so that Crowley and Cass don’t hear him.

“What the hell are you yammering about?” Dean demands.

“A book. Like Crowley’s.” Sam hiss whispers. “I remember you told me about it before everything went down at the convention.”

…

Dean flushes. He’d been bobbing his head along, trying not to feel like such a hypocrite, because his guilty pleasure: How To Take Care Of Your Guardian Angel is stashed in the glove compartment of the Impala.

He should have known that Sam would remember. His brother is like an elephant when it comes to these things.

Sam doesn’t look like an elephant now though, his forehead is creased with worry lines, and his lips pressed together as he judges Dean. “I half thought you were joking!” Sam says exasperatedly. “I thought it was just some… thing you were reading. I had no idea it was written by Chuck!”

Dean ducks his head. Mere minutes ago, Sam was saying how happy he was about Dean settling down. Now he looks disgusted. Dean rubs at his arms self-consciously. This is how Cass will look at him if he finds out about Dean’s book.

“Sam.” He pleads. “Don’t tell Cass.”

Sam sighs. “Of course I won’t tell him,” He whispers harshly. “But how could you do this to him, Dean?”

“I thought I was doing this for him.” Dean wails helplessly. Actions have consequences. That’s something that’s been drilled into him from a young age. But he’s always been prepared to face those consequences… because he had nothing to lose. Now he feels everything is about to be ripped away from him.

Cass would have every right to hate him for the manipulation. Dean went into that book with his eyes wide open. He knew it was wrong. He knew it could blow up in his face. But, at the time, the risk seemed worth the potential reward: making Cass feel at home… convincing him to stay.

Dean never considered that the thing that got him to stay would be the thing threatening to drive him away. Dean’s good intentions wouldn’t matter. Cass’ immediate reaction when he found Dean snooping in his box was to leave. Dean using the book crosses a shit ton more lines.

Cass wouldn’t care that his heart was in the right place. Cass would see it as a betrayal… and he would leave

“Sam.” He whispers, his voice cracking with shame and regret. “You have to help me.”

“Okay,” Sam says after a moment. “Okay. But you have to tell me everything… and I mean everything.”

Sam can’t expect everything? Can he? This is personal stuff. When Dean remains silent, Sam raises his eyebrow and glances at his watch then back to Dean. It’s like a game of chicken… that Dean can’t risk playing.

“I bought the book,” Dean says in a rush. “Because he just let the devil possess him. Who does that? It was like a cry for help. And I thought, maybe this will help me. So I clicked it. I just wanted Cass to stay, I swear.” Dean hopes Sam believes him because that means that there’s a chance Cass might believe him too. “I never wanted to make him like me or anything.”

Sam snorts. “Cass has ‘liked’ you for a long time, Dean.”

Dean looks away. Yet another failure on his part.

“You have to find out what Crowley wants with that book,” he tells Sam.

His brother nods, his expression turning serious. “I will, Dean.”

He’s putting Sam in danger now. He runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Damn it, Chuck.” He curses.

Why would Chuck write a book about Dean and a book about Cass and only make one copy? It just doesn’t make sense.

…

Castiel stands in silence for a moment. Absorbing the shock waves from the bomb that Crowley dropped.

Winchester Tablets.

He should have seen this coming.

But only prophets can read tablets… and Chuck wouldn’t make multiple copies of these books…

“You can’t read them,” he says in realization. Castiel isn’t sure why he can read them; he isn’t a prophet. Neither is Dean.

“They look like utter drivel,” Crowley confirms. “But Dean can read them and obviously you can when you’re busy manipulating people.”

“I wasn’t manipulating him.” Castiel bites out.

“And I’m a barrel of roses.” Crowley retorts.

“And… if I help you… you won’t tell Dean.”

“Tell Dean what?” Crowley winks.

“Okay,” Castiel says. Crowley tends to keep his word and even if he does tell Dean, Castiel will have no other purpose in life other than expunging his demonic presence from the earth.

“Look at that!” Crowley snaps his fingers. “We’re back to working together. Just like the old days.”

Castiel remains silent.

Crowley’s mirth evaporates, and he points at Castiel warningly. “If we’re doing this, it’s going to be done entirely my way. You have no leverage here. You’re my bitch.”

Castiel bristles. Be Crowley’s bitch for a few days and he can salvage his relationship with Dean. Castiel thinks it a fair trade. But why does Crowley want these books and who does he want to sell them to. Most importantly, are they really the Winchester Tablets?

“Why do you want them?” he questions.

“For my porn collection.” He says sarcastically.

New tack then. “This book is Dean’s… does that mean that Sam has one as well?”

“Of course,” Crowley says, “I’ve been searching far and wide for dear Moose’s book. No luck.” He nods at Castiel. “Good thing I got my dog to sniff all the icky places that I didn’t want to.”

Castiel’s shoulders slump. “Yippie.” He says blandly.

He’s startled out of his melancholy by the sound of approaching footsteps. Sam and Dean are coming back. Castiel pastes on his best ‘irritated’ expression, which isn’t hard to do, given Crowley’s goading.

Sam raises a hand, to reveal a pair of demon cuffs. “As long as you’re here, these stay on.”

Crowley smirks, making a kissing noise at Sam. “My safe word is ‘hellhound.’” He says holding out his hands for the restraints to be snapped on.

Dean shudders in disgust. Sam seems to share his distaste and stares down at the cuffs with a pinched expression,

“Does someone else want to do this?”

Chapter Text

When Sam finally has Crowley all chained up – because no way was Dean getting close to the creepo with the love book – Dean pulls Cass aside.

“Hey,” Dean says as soon as they enter his room. It’s the first moment of privacy they’ve gotten since Crowley’s arrival. “Can we talk?”

“Yes,” Cass says stoically but Dean can tell that he’s off. First off, his shoulders are hunched and his hands can’t seem to find a place to rest.

“Look,” Dean says slowly. “It’s been a pretty terrible night.” He admits.

Cass just scoffs and stares down at his shoes. “Understatement.”

Dean gives him another once over. He’s seen Cass have off days before. But he’s never looked this down in the dumps. Dean wonders if he should even bring this up. No, delaying it would only allow it to fester and he’s already keeping a huge secret from Cass. He doesn’t want to pile onto that. Dean knows that he can make Cass feel better by assuring him that he has nothing to worry about with Crowley. He can’t stand the thought of Cass thinking otherwise.

“Crowley said some stuff.” The words sound strangled but he knows that this is something they need to address. “About me and um, us. Sure, there were some triplets but Crowley and I never-”

“I know about your past, Dean. I knew who I was ‘getting into bed with.’”

Dean chuckles. “Nice one.” He says before turning serious. “It’s never been thrown in your face before though.”

“Of course it has,” Castiel says stiffly. He turns away from Dean to glare stonily at the wall. He feels the inexplicable urge to make a crack about not wanting Cass to burn a hole in the wall but he pushes it down. This is serious; he doesn’t want to belittle Cass by making light of the situation. “You know I’ve had feelings for a while now. Mary noticed it easily… as did most of the other creatures we encountered.”

“So…” Dean trails off not wanting to complete that thought.  But it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. Their enemies mocking Cass because of his feelings. Feelings he didn’t think he could share with Dean. Even Dean had played a part in tormenting him. Listening to his vehement denials every time someone brought ‘Destiel’ up must have taken its toll.

And now he has to stand here while Crowley holds the book that could very well make Dean fall in love with him.

“I just want you to know that I won’t be falling for any of Crowley’s tactics. That book is his only chance of mojo-ing my ‘love,’ we just need to find out what he wants with it and get it the hell away from him.” He hopes that it can be enough to soothe Cass’ mind for the time being.

“I don’t think that it even works.” Dean tacks on when Cass’ expression doesn’t change.

If anything, Cass just seems to sink deeper into despair at that.

Dean frowns and steps closer. “Are you good?”

“Yes,” Cass growls.

“That wasn’t very convincing,” Dean tells him. “Talk to me.”

“Dean…” his voice is strained. “I just – I just need a moment alone.”

Cass tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before sighing and marching out the door before Dean can even get a word out. As much as Dean wants to chase after him and make sure that things between them are good, he listens to his brain this time and lets Cass have some time to process.

Personal space.

Dean’s never hated a concept more.

…

Mary rubs her eyes as she steps into the kitchen. Great. Castiel made coffee. She rather enjoys the angel’s concoction.

“Hello, Mama Bear.”

Mary jumps out of her skin at the voice. “Crowley?” Quickly, she takes stock of him, his hands and ankles are bound with the enchanted cuffs. So Sam and Dean obviously got to him. But why did they leave him in the kitchen all alone?

She hasn’t met him personally but Sam had described him as a stocky man in a black suit with a British accent. And from the books, she knows how drawn he is to her sons. They’ve worked as allies; they were once enemies. Which one he is right now is still somewhat a mystery. They chained him but they haven’t killed him, which means they still need something from him.

He raises his brows. “The boys clearly take after John. You’re intuitive. Quite like my own mother, damn her to the darkest pits of hell.”  His strange expression of nostalgia makes Mary uneasy.

“What are you doing here?” She questions, determined not to show him weakness.

“You missed all the excitement last night.” He says passively, ignoring her question.

Frowning, she tries to figure out the meaning behind his cheeky smile.

“I made some waves that rocked the ship that had just set sail.” He says, seeming proud of himself.

Mary finds herself wondering if he’s speaking in tongues.

Her confusion must show because the demon rolls his eyes. “You really are their mother.” He mutters. “Shipping. Ships. When you want two people to shag and then promise monogamy.”

Mary glares at him as things click into place. Sam and Dean explained this to her before they went to that convention. The ship and Dean and Castiel and the ‘just set sail’ part refers to their new relationship. That means that they’re working things out. Mary’s happiness is disrupted by her desire to strangle this creature. “You did something to Dean and Castiel.”

Unphased by her anger, he carries on talking. “Oh, I didn’t do anything.” Crowley pretends to be offended. “In fact, I think they did this to themselves.”

…

“So you did come here to sabotage them,” Sam growls stepping out from behind the corner. There was never a doubt in his mind. Maybe if they can get it through Crowley’s head that Dean isn’t interested, he’ll back-off.

“Eavesdropping,” Crowley raises his eyebrow. “I like this side of you, Moose.”

“Shut up.” He snaps. “Mom, I was going to fill you in as soon as you woke up.”

Mom nods in understanding. She gets that sometimes when it’s life and death you don’t have a chance to do certain things. Sam’s honestly surprised that the ruckus didn’t wake her. But the glare she casts at Crowley has him concerned. Dean needs him alive. Of course, he can’t exactly explain why Dean needs him alive.

“Why aren’t we killing him, Sam?” Mom demands, peering at him with a confused expression.

“Like mother, like son,” Crowley observes.

 “We need to figure out what he’s up to,” Sam says vaguely, ignoring Crowley’s outburst.

“I’ll tell you.” Crowley chirps, pasting on his most innocent expression.

Sam narrows his eyes. “What’s the catch?”

Crowley scoffs in faux incredulity before grinning up at him lecherously.

“You know me so well.” Crowley hums. “There’s just one tiny thing I want from you: I want to go for a walk.”

“The walk to the dungeon is long and winding.” Sam offers. No way is he letting Crowley out, even if it’s what he clearly wants.

“Oh, come on, Samantha. you can do better than that.” Crowley pouts at him. “Something with a bit more flair.”

“Isn’t a nice stroll to the nearest dungeon every demons’ dream?” Sam taunts.

“A twink’s dream perhaps, not mine,” he murmurs. “I want to go outside.”

With a scoff, Sam turns away. “You think I’m stupid.”

“It’s one of your most charming traits second only to that luxurious mane,” Crowley says smugly. When Sam doesn’t take the bait, Crowley decides to cast the line at him again. “But fine. We can just sit here… and not talk about my ulterior motives.”

Turns out that second time’s the charm. Crowley actually manages to get inside his head. Of course, carrying Crowley outside would be a severe misstep and it goes against Sam’s knee-jerk response to deny the demon anything he asks. 

Crowley’s always been pretty sneaky, but the fact that he showed them the book from the get-go says that he doesn’t feel the need to hide. He feels so secure in whatever evil master plan he has for breaking up Dean and Cass that he thinks he can rub it in their faces.

Sam knows that they can stop him. Crowley’s cockiness will be his undoing. And if Sam has to carry him outside to get some vital information, then so be it. He can handle one demon on a leash.

Against his better judgment, Sam concedes. He maneuvers Crowley up the stairs and out the door. His cuffs are still on so he can’t do much more than hop or flail around, even if he does manage to knock him down and make a break for it. Sam doesn’t think he will in any case; whatever his plan may be, he needs to be in the bunker - up close with Dean and Cass - to make things work.

Crowley practically preens as the sunlight hits him. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Sam stiffens his eyes darting around the perimeter. “Who?”

“Oh.” Crowley sounds horrified. “I forgot. Reach into my coat. Feel free to grope.”

Still keeping one eye on his surroundings, he reaches into Crowley’s coat pocket feeling the warmth inside his coat. Should he shove them both inside or is whatever info Crowley promised worth it?

Sam pulls his hand back after a few moments. “There’s nothing here.”

“Try the other side,” is all Crowley offers him.

Exasperated, Sam switches sides and stills when something cold brushes his fingers. Carefully, he extracts it from Crowley’s coat.

“Glasses.” He hisses almost flinging the frames away in frustration. “Stop the jokes, Crowley.”

“Put them on.” The demon says easily.

Sam complies and almost faints at the monstrosity that’s standing right in front of him.

“Sam, you remember Juliet, don’t you?”

Chapter Text

Dean spends almost half an hour just pacing up and down in his room, wondering about a question he ’s never had to ask himself before. How much time constitutes personal space?

Personal space was never a problem with Sam. He’d always know the exact time when he should barge into his brother’s room and crack a joke to smoothen things over with them. But this? This is ... strange?

Cass is obviously something more than his friend now… but he’s still Dean’s friend. Dean always knew when to barge into his room too, but now that they’ve crossed all these lines , he finds himself in a sea of doubt. Should he be acting differently? Or would Cass appreciate Dean treating him as he normally would?

Cass is mad about something, but he glazed over the whole ‘orgy’ thing. So it’s not that. It could be that Crowley’s presence just puts him in a foul mood. But he’s witnessed Cass in a foul mood. This ain’t it. It’s something else, Dean just can’t put his finger on it.

If Dean wasn’t sure that the book was completely safe, he’d suspect that Cass knows. But that’s impossible. The book is in Baby and Cass hasn’t been in there alone for some time. Maybe Dean’s just transferring his panic onto Cass’ recent mood change.

He sighs.

When he’s ready, Cass will tell him everything.

But he still hasn’t told Cass everything … I t isn’t fair to expect the angel to do the same. 

Dean keeps trying to tell himself that he’s only holding out until he can find a way to convince Cass to stay. In reality, he knows what he’s really doing; withholding vital information and lying to someone who means a lot to him.

He knows Sam will keep his secret till his dying breath, but he’s making his brother an accomplice in this. When all is said and done , Cass will be pissed at them both. Which isn’t fair to Sam. But as much as logic and integrity whisper in his ear - that he should just get it over with; tell Cass before things get worse, before he becomes trapped in his own web of lies – there’s another voice.

That voice tells him to hold on tight while he can because Cass is marching up those stairs and out the bunker door as soon as he finds out about Dean’s transgressions. That voice reminds him about how bereft his life would be without Cass – now that he knows what they can have ... going back would be torture.

It’s wrong.

So wrong.

But that voice is the one that convinces Dean to keep his mouth shut.

With guilt gnawing at his bones, he decides to give himself a reprieve… in the traditional Winchester way of course.

Dean strolls to the kitchen, smirking at the lack of Crowley, though the room does smell sulfur-y. Sam probably carted him off to the dungeon with glee.

He pops open the fridge and peers inside. Come on… there can’t only be one bottle of beer. He’s got some harder stuff stashed away in the Impala, but given how things are going, he doesn’t want to risk exposing the location of the book.

Besides, this is a Winchester kitchen. There has to be more beer. With eager movements, Dean combs through the entire fridge. To his distaste, he finds mostly a sea of green… which makes him see red.

He should just splurge on his own mini-fridge. There’d be none of Sam’s vegetables clogging it up and none of … well, mom basically eats anything Dean cooks.

Maybe because her own cooking might kill her.

Just as Dean’s about to shut the door and give up… he really does see red.

Right in the bottom shelf actually.

Beetroot to be precise.

Dean replaces the beer and grabs the fruit - vegetable? - instead.

Rolling the beetroot in his hands , he fondly recalls Cass’ weird obsession with making him eat it. Maybe it’s about time Dean returned the favor. He peels back the plastic and plunks it in a nearby pot.

He can’t tell Cass the truth just yet and he can’t figure out what’s got him so down.

But maybe this will amuse him. Maybe Dean can distract him from his woes like a good boyfriend… or whatever he is to Cass.

…

Sam feels his life flash before his eyes. With one hand, he tightens his grip on Crowley, and with the other, he readies his angel blade.

“Those glasses suit you. Too bad you can’t wear them more often.” Crowley says calmly. “Curse your twenty-twenty vision.”

“What is this?” Sam growls.

“Oh put that down,” Crowley says rolling his eyes. “Stop being overdramatic.”

“You want me to lay down my knife and be casual while your hellhound is mauling me?” Sam’s voice is incredulous.

“Ideally , I’d rather you not be mauled,” Crowley says. “It would make enticing you with my puppy that much more difficult.”

“You’re kidding,” Sam says, still focused on the hellhound. It’s a monstrous thing, standing at almost six feet tall with big teeth and red eyes.

Puppy. Yeah right.

“Juliet, sit,” Crowley commands.

The beast sits, it’s tongue lolling out like a real dog’s.

“This nice man is going to pet you,” Crowley advises. Juliet seems delighted by that news and thumps her tail. It’s kind of cute, Sam supposes.

Sam shakes his head and clutches his knife.

“No. I’m not going near it.”

Crowley actually pouts at him. “Come on , Moose, I know how much you love dogs. Don’t you think it’s time you hit another one and settled down?”

“Not this dog,” Sam whispers. “We’re going back inside. This was a mistake.”

“Come on , Sam. This was supposed to be fun.” Crowley prods. Sam thinks he looks genuinely disappointed.

He shakes that thought away. Crowley is just manipulating him. Messing with his head by showing him things he likes – like his prized hellhound. It had almost worked too . Sam would have been a bloody mess on the floor and Crowley would be free.

As Sam manhandles Crowley to the door, the demon turns his head. “Juliet, don’t stray too far dear, wait for papa.”

Chapter Text

Sam feels dizzy as he shoves Crowley back into the kitchen. Luckily, mom is there, she looks happy to see them. “I’ve readied the dungeon,” she chirps.

“Great,” Sam mutters, relinquishing the chain. “Can you lock him up?”

Noticing the frown on Sam’s face, “Is something wrong?” Mary’s voice is suspicious, her hands tightening on Crowley’s chains.

“No,” Sam says quickly. “Just too much Crowley is bad for the soul. Plus, I need to talk to Dean. Make sure he isn’t doing something stupid.”

“Your efforts would be more useful trying to join the circus,” Crowley tells him blandly.

Sam scoffs. He’s not wrong. But maybe he can curtail any possible disasters.

As Mary yanks his literal chain, Crowley turns back to look at Sam. The demon almost seems disappointed.

Disappointed his dog didn’t rip you to shreds, Sam reminds himself.

He shakes his head and leans against the stove. Firey hot pain has him flinching away, rubbing at the source of his pain. The burn sizzles and Sam winces looking at it. It’s tiny and inconsequential so he doesn’t bother rushing for the burn cream. What’s one more scar, right?

Instead, he turns to investigate. The pot on the stove is still boiling. In fact, the water has almost evaporated. With a sigh, Sam turns off the burner and shakes his head. He peeks inside the pot at the sorry piece of food that Cass decided to mutilate.

Because this must be Cass’ doing. Sam fondly remembers the salty pie that Dean devoured. He still doesn’t get how his brother made it through the first bite – Sam hadn’t, and his love of pie isn’t nearly as profound as Dean’s.

“Hey!” Dean snaps, breezing into the room. He slaps Sam’s hand away from the pot and moves to test the thing with a knife.

Sam feels his brows raise in surprise. “You did this?” Dean is usually such a good cook. He doesn’t burn stuff – not recently, at least. “What the hell, man?”

Dean sighs exasperatedly.

“What is that?”

“It’s a beet, Sam.” His brother says annoyed.

“Yeah.” He says uncertainly.

Dean just scoffs and starts peeling the hideous thing, his fingers instantly becoming stained with the red of the beet.

For now, Sam is content to just watch him struggle to peel the hot thing, perhaps it’s due to the fact that Sam needs a distraction after he was almost eaten alive by Crowley’s dog due to his own stupidity.

“Cass’ was worse,” Dean mutters.

“What?” Now, Sam’s interest is truly peaked.

Dean pauses and shrugs. “It’s like – a tradition? A weird thing that Cass forced me to do? I don’t know. I’m hoping to amuse him.”

“You’ve amused me,” Sam says cheekily.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean dismisses him with a wave. “You should be all over this. What happened to living like a bunny?”

“I’m good, Dean.”

“You’re lucky I’m saving this for Cass, it’s the last one and I –”

“Hey.” Sam holds up his hands. “No need to explain your strange rituals. I’m good.” He reiterates.

This only seems to amuse Dean, a smirk spreading across his face. “What do you think we do with this?”

Sam backs away. “Uh, uh… I am not getting into this.”

Ever so slowly, Dean’s body gravitates towards the door.  No way, he isn’t locking Sam in here… trying to intimidate him. He isn’t going to let that happen.

A realization hits him then; about Crowley and his plan. The hellhound was meant to corral them in here. To keep his prey exactly where he wants them.

Not on his watch.

“Oh, by the way, there may be a hellhound lurking. So don’t go outside.”

That wipes the grin off Dean’s face. That’s not what he wanted, he wants Dean to enjoy whatever he’s going to do with that beet and Cass, but having him step outside and get mauled won’t make him happy.

“Don’t worry,” Sam assures. “I’m going to deal with Crowley.”

Dean shifts, clearly dubious. “Maybe I should go. We’re the one with the history.”

“Yeah,” Sam says sarcastically. “A torrid history, I’m sure.”

Dean flushes. “We – we – never – damn it, Sam!”

“Relax.” He says comfortingly. “I’ll have Mom with me. We can handle him.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Go.”

…

Dean balances the plate on one hand as he knocks on Cass’ door.

“Not now, Dean.” Comes a voice from inside.

He sighs. “C’mon, Cass.” He pleads.

Silence.

Fine. New tact then. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” He croons enticingly.

Lumbering footsteps and the creaking of Cass’ doorknob sing the songs of his triumph. He can’t help the cheesy grin that slips onto his face at the sight of the angel.

Eyes filled with a mix of frustration and tiredness stare up at him. He hopes to replace those drab emotions with laughter and bliss.

Cass’ eyes drift down to the plate, his hand clenching on the door.

“I know it isn’t as burnt as you like it.” He quips, pasting on his most charming smile.

Hey, he’s not in the door yet. He’s giving this all he’s got.

Success.

His joke brings a smile to Cass’ face, albeit a slightly forced one… but Dean can only go up from here.

“Will you share this with me, Cass?” He asks, mimicking the angel’s words from what seems like a lifetime ago.

Cass shifts in indecision.

“Please.” Dean pouts. “Help me eat it.”

“Only if you throw the rest out after two bites,” Cass says with air quotes before grabbing Dean’s free hand and dragging him inside.

…

Sam makes his way to the dungeon with equal amounts of trepidation and stubbornness. He won’t let Crowley one-up him.

“Sam.” Mom sounds surprised to see him. “What happened to taking a break?”

“I just need fifteen minutes alone with him,” Sam says sinisterly, focusing entirely on Crowley who just grins smugly at him from his iron chair.

“Ambitious,” Crowley murmurs.

Mary stands, and pats his arm, “I’m outside if you need me.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

When she’s out of the room, Sam turns his wrath on Crowley. “I know what you’re doing.” He hisses.

“Oh, I doubt it.”

“Your dog… she could have attacked me at any time.”

Crowley loses the glint in his eye. “Maybe you do understand, Moose.”

“But.” Sam continues. “She didn’t. That’s because you wanted to intimidate us into staying here.”

If anything, Crowley seems… sad.

Sam shakes his head, deliberately scattering that stupid thought.

“Wrong again,” Crowley murmurs.

“Then tell me,” Sam insists.

Crowley just sighs, shaking his head. “Not yet. But soon.”

Screw fifteen minutes. He’s done with these mind games. Maybe he should just buy a gag so they don’t have to put up with this.

As he turns his back, he hears Crowley’s voice calling him back.

“If you leave now, you’ll miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Sheer curiosity makes him turn. “What?”

Crowley hears the challenge in his voice and just grins.

“I’ll give you seven minutes … with this.” With the wave of his hand, he summons the book. ‘How To Make A Righteous Man Fall In Love With You Without Him Even Knowing.’

Chapter Text

Castiel wants nothing more than to curl up and be dead to the world. But since angels can’t sleep, he settles for dimming the lights in his room and staring blankly at the wall… like a form of meditation.

Of course, Dean came to cheer him up. After all, he did storm out of the room. Dean probably thinks he’s mad about Crowley. He’s beating himself up over nothing and Castiel is letting him. Dean might not even be in love with him… Everything he has is due to the book, and that both shames and scares him.

But he can’t leave Dean standing outside either, not when the hunter made an effort to come find him after Cass had been so sour.

His last interaction with Crowley had made him suspicious. After leaving Dean, he heads down to the dungeon. Luckily, only Mary is there, and in need of a bathroom break.

Confronting him, Crowley says he’s waiting for more details on the other two books from his sources but that, in the meantime, Castiel can make himself useful by reading him a ‘bedtime story.’

He considers lying, telling Crowley the wrong things out of spite, but what he sees in the book changes his mind. The demon turns to the chapter where Cass had gotten the idea of baking Dean a pie… except… a quick skim tells him that this now has nothing to do with pie or gifts or charming nicknames.

Dean enjoys bacon on occasion. He likes to hide that fact from Sam but Dean is the one to blame when Sam’s secret stash of bacon goes missing.

That line almost causes him to burst into laughter. Dean enjoys bacon on every occasion. He doesn’t hide it… And Sam does not have a secret stash of bacon.

The strange lines he’s seeing and the absence of what he’s certain was there before can only mean one thing: the book is versatile. It’s somehow defending itself against Crowley. Even though he’s trying to manipulate Castiel into revealing its secrets, the book itself recognizes the malice and is hiding – changing – the content.

The strange thing is that Crowley seems to believe what Cass reads aloud, nodding along contemplatively and listening raptly. If he can believe this so easily, then he doesn’t know Dean at all. Which is a huge relief.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Dean’s voice breaks him out of his reverie.

Reluctantly, he opens the door and promptly curses the burnt beet that sits smugly on the plate, taunting him.

 …

Sam doesn’t give Crowley a chance to rescind his offer. He snatches it out of his hands instantly and starts flipping through the pages.

“Aren’t you eager, Moose?” Crowley observes smugly. “The way to get to a man’s heart… like Dean’s is food. With you, knowledge will suffice.”

“Shh,” Sam hisses absentmindedly. He’s determined to absorb as much as he can from this book in the allotted time.

The beginning mostly consists of obvious stuff, about Dean’s favorite foods, his clothing preferences. The panties are honestly something he could have gone lifetimes without knowing about. So far, nothing that Crowley could use against him.

As he scans, the chapters get more and more interesting. He’s forced to slow down to absorb the details.

Though the Righteous Man has a coarse personality,  - true that, Sam thinks - he truly cares about those he surrounds himself with and he always fears that they don’t share the sentiment. Often, he would express his care by giving a nickname. Often, he wishes that they would give him a nickname. A nice one. He believes that since his method of showing affection is assigning nicknames, that others also share in this.

Sam frowns to himself, pausing at this paragraph. He’s well aware he’s wasting his time, and that Crowley is staring at him intently, probably counting down the seconds in his mind. Dean has a monopoly on giving nicknames; ‘Sammy,’ ‘Baby,’ ‘Cass.’ Sam doesn’t even want to think about the myriad of nicknames he’s created for random people on cases.

But no one ever gave Dean a nickname, not one that stuck  anyway or that he liked . Sam sticks with Dean because he can’t imagine calling his brother anything else. Because he hadn’t thought that Dean would want a nickname. This passage has been the most revealing thus far because as he can recall, the only person to give Dean a nickname in the history of ever… is Cass.

That must be the extent of their profound bond. He was able to recognize a gap in Dean’s life and fill it. They really are the perfect match.

Bonus: Despite what one may think, the Righteous Man prefers handmade gifts, something that he does not make common knowledge, for fear of creating a ‘chick-flick’ moment.

A handmade gift. Hmm, he doesn’t give Dean nearly enough homemade gifts. He doesn’t think Dean would appreciate his smoothies though. Maybe he should try baking a pie like Cass – except he’d use sugar instead of salt.

He flips forward a few pages.

“Beet – it’s bright red color symbolizes heart, blood, and love. It’s a perfect aphrodisiac and was often used as an offering to Aphrodite.

Fun Fact: Boron in beet acts as a sex hormone .

Sharing a beetroot is said to make persons fall in love.

Bonus: Did you know that beet was in the dish shared by Russian and US astronauts which marked the end of the space race?

And Sam feels like his brain is about to explode.

The nickname could be passed off as a coincidence. The pie could be excused – because the world knows Dean’s love of pie.

But this… this beet?

This is no coincidence.

“Where did you get this?” Sam asks darkly.

The amusement drains from Crowley’s face. “You figured it out sooner than I expected,” he says morosely.

The weight in his hand disappears suddenly. Sam glances up in panic. “Crowley. Just tell me.”

“Say it, Sam.” He challenges.

If he says it, he doesn’t know what it means for Cass… for Dean.

“Was it…” He swallows. “Cass?”

“Who knew what good ole Castiel kept hidden under his pillow?” Crowley quips. “I expected a dildo, some pictures of Dean but this was a pleasant surprise.”

“And that’s why you’re here, to screw with their relationship?”

If he tells Dean, then everything could come crashing down. Dean would wonder how they encountered the books at the same time – if it was divine intervention. He’d scrap their relationship on principle. Sam knows more than anyone how much Dean hates being manipulated.

“Au contraire,” Crowley says. “I’m not going to spill the beans.”

“What?” Sam says in disbelief. “I thought you came here to – to get with Dean. What happened to Dean… writhing… and – ugh.”

His regularly scheduled disgust is interrupted by a low chuckle. “It was a pretense, Sam. One I no longer need.”

At his bewildered expression, Crowley scoffs. “Never let it be said that Winchesters aren’t obliviously dense,” he mutters to himself.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m not here to break up our happy couple.”

“Then why?” Sam wonders. “Why go through the trouble? Why do you want these books?”

“These books?” Crowley raises a brow. “I never mentioned additional books.”

Sam freezes completely. He screwed the pooch and now all he can do is stare at Crowley like a deer – a moose – in the headlights.

Chapter Text

The tablets can protect themselves by changing their written word. It means that Castiel can string along Crowley until the demon eventually gets frustrated and leaves… or Dean gets pissed and kills him - whichever comes first. It also means he doesn’t need to tell Dean the truth about where Crowley found the righteous man text.

The thought of hiding it makes him queasy – as much as angels who don’t eat can be queasy. But telling Dean strikes terror into his heart. He wishes things could be easy, that he could go back in time and never find that cursed book.

Dean would probably never see him as he does now, never entertain the thought of Castiel’s lips against his, but they would be friends. Dean would never want him to leave.

What he sees on Dean’s face right now, the love, the nervousness, the want… makes him hate himself even more. Without the printed work, Dean would never look at him like this or even do these things for him. He has to face the facts: he somehow compelled Dean to love him.

Freewill is something Dean champions. To be the one to take it away from him makes the angel sick. It’s obscene that he can do this and still think he’s in love with Dean. Real love would be selfless. Real love would have waited instead of buying that book and using it to manipulate Dean.

If he really loved Dean, he would work to protect everything he stands for; not be the one to take it away from him. He needs to say something but his jaw is locked with fear.

The beet still sits there mocking him. Castiel wants nothing more than to make it explode, but this is Dean’s grand gesture. He knows how much it really means. Romance and Dean don’t mix well, yet he remembered this and he’s trying. If he knew where Castiel got the idea, he would toss the plate away in an instant.

“Cass,” Dean’s voice breaks through his meltdown. “You’re not paying attention to me.”

The sincere concern in his eyes threatens to bring the angel to tears.

He blinks them away, hating how his voice quivers when he speaks next. “Dean… I h-have to tell you something.”

…

“Do you know where it is?” Crowley asks. Despite being the one confined, Crowley insists on acting like he’s the interrogator here. Apparently, Sam is too stunned by his slip up to stop him.

“You do know.” Crowley infers, pausing to stare at him strangely. “I bet you love it. The notion that these books exist intrigues you. You want them as much as I do,” Crowley says lowly.

Sam can’t argue with him – in the literal sense as his tongue still feels heavy.

“And not because you want to ‘protect’ Dean as you so valiantly claim.” Crowley continues. “It’s because you want it, for the sake of wanting it.”

Sam shakes his head, refuting it.

“Knowledge turns you on Sam,” Crowley says. “Come back tomorrow. Maybe I’ll let you read some more.”

Immobile, Sam just stares at him. Crowley relents, rolling his eyes. “Relax, Sam. It’s not a bad thing,” he says. “It’s not even the worst thing in the world.”

And what gives him the right to say that? To mess with his mind like that? Sam knows on some level it’s true. What enrages him, is that somehow, Crowley knows it too. He thinks he knows Sam, which is why he tried to shove a ‘dog’ in his face and why he thinks he’s got the upper hand despite being the one chained to a chair, unable to even scratch his nose.

Sam can’t let himself be distracted by the wiles of a demon. Crowley is here to destroy their lives, lay waste to Dean and Cass’ happiness. He’s not good. He’s not friendly. He’s trying to distract Sam, off-balance him with these random bouts of ‘truth.’

It’s probably all part of Crowley’s master plan, and Sam is not going to let him get away with it. Stonily, he glares at Crowley, who shifts under his gaze. Maybe he’s finally realizing his place. Good.

“What are you doing?” Sam growls. “Why are you here? Why did you bring your dog? Why are you so obsessed with us?”

Crowley raises a brow at his barrage of questions. “I’ve already answered all these questions.”

“Well, maybe you should refresh my memory.” Sam hisses.

He hates that Crowley put him in this position. He wore him down enough that he slipped like that. The worst thing is, if Crowley hadn’t pointed it out, Sam never would have noticed his monumental slip-up.

“I’m collecting the books.” Crowley sasses. “I’m here because I enjoy the accommodation.” He tugs playfully at his chains. “Really top-notch service you boys give here. I brought along Juliette because I thought you’d like her. And I’m not obsessed.” He finishes with a dramatic sigh.

“I just don’t get it,” Sam whispers. “You say you’re not here for Dean… but that just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Crowley says with a sigh. “You’re… you. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Sam challenges.

“Okay,” Crowley acquiesces. “I trust you’ve seen Ice Age.”

Once again, Sam is thrown by Crowley. He’s pretty much convinced that the demon is out to get him. And so far Crowley is one point ahead - and he knows it - given how he smirks as Sam splutters helplessly.

“I’ll take that as a yes. It’s a classic after all,” Crowley smirks at his discomfort. “Let’s think of the little squirrel as Dean, naturally. And the acorn he destroys anything chasing after as Castiel.” It’s not a bad comparison, Sam thinks. “The squirrel continuously breaks the world in some futile attempt to catch the acorn, that for some reason, just keeps leaving him. Imagine if the squirrel had a book, telling him how to catch the acorn, or the acorn had a book telling him the best ways to stay with the squirrel. The world would be a better place.”

Sam scoffs. “So you think Dean and Cass getting together will bring world peace?” That doesn’t seem like something Crowley would concern himself with.

Crowley just shrugs, returning to his blasé self.

“Your mother is coming back,” Crowley says. “Come visit tomorrow. Maybe give Juliet a pet. She must be quite disappointed after I brought her all this way.”

…

“What?” Dean pushes the beet aside since Cass’ eyes keep darting to it.

“Dean…” He trails off, clearly disconcerted.

The hunter rests his hand over Cass’, squeezing gently to let him know that he’s there, that he’s listening.

Tears are swimming in Cass’ eyes, but they do little to obscure the panic that lurks just under them. Seeing Cass like this scares the hell out of Dean. In all their years together, he’s never seen Cass close to tears.

“Crowley… I know where he got the book.” Cass swallows, the first tear spilling from his eyes, making a wet path down his cheek before splashing onto the table. “My room. It was in my room.”

Chapter Text

A multitude of emotions cross Dean’s face. They flash at such an alarming rate that Castiel can’t clearly discern any of them. He feels more wetness roll down his cheeks as his fear increases. Dean’s hatred had been his greatest fear but looking into his eyes, all he sees is emptiness.

No love. No hate. It’s like he doesn’t care. It’s as though Castiel’s betrayal has flipped a switch in Dean that’s erased any feelings for the angel.

And all of a sudden, he wishes Dean would hate him. Scream. Throw something. Stab him. Anything.

Anything to show that he cares.

Castiel wipes at his eyes in despair and more liquid continues to seep. It’s like he can’t stop it and Dean is just staring at him, his gaze hooded, shielding his thoughts and feelings from Castiel. Dean’s blasé attitude only makes him feel worse.

The need to beg him to say something is strong, yet the lack of emotion in his eyes has him quailing.

Dean’s eyes slide to the door and he slowly stands.

Stiffening, Castiel expects him to storm straight out of the room and not come back. But then Dean’s hand hovers in his periphery and he flinches, half expecting to be thrown across the room.

Dean continues to hold his hand out and Castiel notices the first crack in his stoic expression. Dean knows now that it was in his room, that Crowley had found it there. It’s not very hard to piece the rest together. Still, his face shows desperation. It’s almost as though he wants Castiel to take his hand.

So he does. He reaches out to slip his fingers into Dean’s, savoring the warmth of the other man’s rough hands. Dean squeezes his hand lightly before guiding them both out of the room.

At first, Castiel is too wrapped up in his own head to realize where they’re going. But once the garage comes into view, he stills, causing Dean to tug at his arm.

Is this is? Is Dean kicking him out?

His heartbeat thunders in his ear as he looks at the garage doors and the cars. He wonders which one, if any, he’ll be forced to drive out in. He thinks back to his room. His human things. Maybe…

“Cass, stop.” Dean’s voice cuts through his panic. His expression has softened considerably. “I’m not throwing you out.” He looks away, mumbling the next part. “Never again.”

Castiel swallows, the sound excruciatingly loud in the silence of the room.

“I just want to talk… and– and it’s not going to be a great talk.” Dean whispers. “But there are things that need to be said and at least we’ll have some privacy in Baby.”

Reaching around him, Dean opens the Impala’s passenger door and gestures for him to get inside. Castiel doesn’t miss the way Dean’s fingers tremble and how jerkily he moves into the driver’s seat. Dean’s nervousness only heightens his dread.

‘It’s not going to be a great talk.’ He expected as much, but hearing the words out loud makes it feel all too real.

Staring resolutely ahead he waits for Dean to settle down.

“Dean, I’m sorry.” Castiel apologies. He should have said it sooner but his fear had paralyzed him. “I swear I just– I wanted to be with you and that book it– It’s horrible.” He breathes. “I know I’m horrible for tricking you. There’s no excuse.”

Dean casts him a sorrowful glance then. “I’ve got some tissues in the glove box,” he says stiffly, though his eyes betray how uneasy he is. “Along with something else you might find interesting.”

Curiosity and fear war within him. Dean’s eyes are begging him to open the compartment but the tension that fills the car has him shaking.

Dean hasn’t acknowledged his apology. He’s completely ignored it.

The glove box clicks open and everything inside comes tumbling out. The tissues, old ID’s, and something larger… a book.

‘How To Take Care Of Your Guardian Angel’  by Chuck Shurley.

Castiel drops the title like it’s on fire, letting out a harsh breath as he stares down at the thing on the car floor.

Thoughts swarm his mind. Dean has his book. He’d intentionally kept it hidden in here. Castiel remembers, at the gas station, how desperate Dean had been to keep him out of the compartment and his flimsy excuse about ‘strange condoms.’ How long had he had this? Since before the case? Before their first kiss?

His thoughts drift to a darker, more sinister notion: Crowley. This book would complete his set. Dean doesn’t know that they’re tablets yet. They need to hide this before the demon gets his hands on it. So many thoughts, but only one makes it out of his mouth, “You read this?”

Dean flinches, which gives him his answer. “It’s like you said, Cass. I wanted to be closer to you. I thought this was the only way and I took advantage…” As he trails off, the car becomes quiet.

He wants to ask why Dean kept quiet, though Castiel suspects it’s the same reason he did: fear and embarrassment. 

He thinks back to the case, at the convention, weeks ago. The drastic and uncharacteristic change in Dean’s style, coupled with his intimate knowledge of Castiel’s likes and dislikes. The oils. He feels dizzy. Dean had the book before he did. He must have. The realization hits him hard.  Mary had been right about Dean’s emotions towards him all along. He doesn't know how he feels about it now, just that his mind has been plunged into chaos. Everything that brought them closer came from the books. This is just as much his fault as it is Dean’s. At least they’re opening up now. They can work through this together. Now that he knows, Castiel can assure him he appreciates the effort Dean put in to make him comfortable.  But first, Castiel needs to catch Dean up to speed.

“Crowley doesn’t know that this is here.”

Turning to face him, Dean looks distressed and confused. Eyes filled with accusation, he stares at Castiel, just like he had when Dean trapped him in a ring of holy fire. His sin had been working with Crowley then too. But things were different then. They weren’t as close. Then Dean asks the dreaded question: “How do you know?”

“Because he told me.” Castiel whispers, ashamed. If he’s telling Dean the truth, he isn’t going to do it half-assed. “I agreed to help him and in exchange, he’d keep the origin of my book a secret.”

It’s like a dam has broken within him. Everything courses out. His deceit. How he’d stumbled upon the book on their way home from the convention. The fact that the books are tablets; that Sam too, has a book. Crowley’s desire to collect them all for his mystery buyer.

For the most part, Dean listens silently, letting him get it all out, his expression turning darker with each passing word.

When he’s finished, Dean can’t even look at him, he presses himself into the seat and glances out the window. Castiel can barely see his appearance in the reflection. He looks scared, betrayed, lost. Castiel curls into himself.

An apology feels like too little.

“That’s a lot, Cass,” Dean whispers, leaning his head against the cool window. Castiel can make out the slight fog where his harsh breaths hit the glass. A moment passes before Dean turns to him. “There’s only one of each book?”

Castiel nods, not trusting himself to do more than that.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, after staring at him.

“Do you hate me?” Castiel wonders quietly.

Silence. Then, Dean’s hand lands on his shoulder. “I could never hate you, Cass.”

Dean’s sincere expression draws him in like Icarus to the sun. His wings have already caught aflame, so he has nothing to fear.

“So you’re… not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad,” Dean growls, his eyebrows creasing, causing Castiel to feel a whole new bout of panic.

“Just not at you.” Dean breathes at last. “I’m mad at Crowley for barging in here and screwing with you. I’m mad at me, for not noticing something was wrong sooner. But I’m mostly mad at Chuck!”

“What?” Castiel feels the air shift between them.

“You said it, Cass!” Dean says waving his hands wildly. “One book. One book for each of us. Sam’s is ‘God knows where.’” Dean chuckles wryly at his own quip. “And yours and mine? What do you think? We just happened to come across it within days of each other?”

Castiel doesn’t know what to say. He was so prepared for Dean’s rage that he hadn’t anticipated it would be directed at someone else.

“I didn’t think of this before.” Dean continues, “Because Crowley had the book, not you.”

Castiel’s eyes dart over Dean’s face, looking for some inkling of what’s happening. All he can see are Dean’s wild eyes and the panic that pinches his features. “One book, Cass. One book. That means that Chuck wrote them deliberately. He wanted us to find them! This whole thing was a setup, Cass.” He exhales. His voice is breathy and Castiel can now see the dread in his expression.

Clutching his shoulder in a vice, Dean shakes his head. “How can our feelings be real when Chuck obviously wants us together?”

Grasping at straws, Castiel blurts the first thing that comes to mind, in an attempt to fix things, to stop Dean from spiraling “They’re real! What we have is real. I know it.”

For a long moment, Dean just looks at him.

“I don’t.” He says, his looks regretful. “It’s not real, Cass. We’re not real. I won’t let someone control me. Not again. I refuse to be part of some ‘grand plan.’”

Castiel should feel the same way, but he doesn’t.

He can see Dean’s face closing off again, and Castiel suddenly understands the real reason why Dean brought him down here; not just to show him the book, but to end things in what they both consider a ‘safe space,’ their bubble. As Dean scrambles for the words, Castiel feels utterly powerless.

He wants to scream at him. Shake him until he sees that doing this would break his heart. His tongue is like lead. Nothing makes it out other than a strangled noise.

“You’re still family, Cass. Nothing can change that.” Dean’s voice softens. It turns placating in the most sickening of ways. “I– I still don’t want you to leave. But we just–”

He shuts his eyes, unable to look at Dean. “–can’t.”

The car door opens and Dean exits. “I’m sorry. I can’t, Cass.”

Eyes still shut, he just nods feeling his emotions drag him under. It was too good to be true.

Castiel thought he knew heartbreak before; pining after the unattainable Dean Winchester. But he was wrong again.

Chapter Text

As the door clicks shut behind him, he hears Cass’ shuddering breath. It’s almost enough to make him rip open the door and take back everything he said.

Almost. But not enough.

Dean pauses near the trunk, his hand curling into a fist. He glances back into the car, at Cass, who still makes no move to leave.

He wants to get back in, comfort him, tell him he loves him. And Dean does – love him, that is. The feelings are crystal clear now, but they aren’t real. This is Chuck, manipulating them into feeling this way. Probably to satisfy all the ‘shippers’ who rant and rave about Destiel.

Like an idiot, he let himself be tricked. He became so obsessed about making things right that he left his flank exposed and Chuck had capitalized on that opening. He didn’t even question why he was the only one who knew about the book.

Becky should have been head over heels at the convention, unable to not talk about. Sure, he might have found it suspicious, but he did nothing. Because he was distracted.

Dean shakes his head violently, wishing he could shake off the feelings too. Wishing they could go back to when they were just Dean and Cass.

Cass might not understand right away, but when he does, he’ll thank Dean. He’ll realize that once again, his father was trying to control him. Make him into his solider again. But Dean won’t let that happen. He won’t let Chuck control him – or Cass.

Noble. He can be noble. Do the right thing. For once, Dean can be the one to exercise self-control. And boy, is it getting a workout.

The steps away from the car are the hardest. He feels his insides wrench as though his body is physically rejecting the thought of leaving Cass. His soul burns. It wants him to go back, it’s calling for the angel. But that’s just what Chuck wants. He can’t go back.

Balling his fists, he takes his first shaky step out of the garage.

Then, it hits him. The loss. The humiliation. What he just did. It was horrible, especially after all the promises he made. He lied to Cass, hurt him in every way he promised himself he wouldn’t. Never before had Cass looked at him like that, like his world was crumbling, like he was betrayed by the one person he loves. Dean shuts his eyes. All he can see is that horrified, broken expression. It drives him to his knees.

It’s been ten seconds and he can’t live with himself. Dean swallows harshly. He let himself get too accustomed to having someone. He’s enjoyed kissing Cass, holding him against him, his little quips about ‘watching over him.’ It’s a tragedy. They hadn’t even made it through the honeymoon phase of their relationship unscathed.

He hates himself. For caving and buying that book. For keeping it a secret and thinking that everything would be okay. This is not okay.

He hates Cass, for the same reason. For being naive, thinking that good things could happen without some sort of backlash. He hates him for being the one brave enough to confess.

He hates Crowley for trying to profiteer off of Cass’ mistake. The bastard would have gotten both books if it weren’t for the warding in Baby.

Most of all, he hates Chuck, for making him fall in love with someone he never thought he could have, and for forcing him by proxy, to give it up for ‘free will.’

With a harsh breath, he rubs his fist into his chest, massaging the tension there. His chest seems to get tighter with every passing second. With every breath, the loss sinks in more. This is what heartbreak feels like, he realizes.

But there’s no other choice. He will not be manipulated by some storyteller.

Dean pushes himself onto his feet once more.

These feelings will fade.

And if they don’t, he’s a Winchester. He’ll drown them in whiskey and beer.

…

Mary frowns as she enters the room. Sam is just standing there, glaring down at Crowley. His hands are clenching and unclenching. It looks like he’s seconds away from throttling the demon. Not that she can blame him, Crowley has been a constant pest; singing the strangest of songs and jingling his chains to the beat.

“I’m back.” She announces, causing Sam to jerk to attention.

He nods once and turns to face her. “If he starts talking too much, gag him.”

“How sweet.” Crowley snips. “Maybe go visit Juliet,” Crowley calls as Sam begins walking away.

He freezes.

“Not only would she love the attention but I’d be doing the world a favor.”

Mary cocks her head at him. She wants to be angry at the threat but she gets the feeling the demon is just joking. “How would Sam being eaten alive be a favor?”

“Oh no, Juliet won’t eat him.” Crowley hums, “Well, she might do a fair bit of licking, but that’s beside the point. The real favor would be allowing the world to see you in those glasses.”

Sam doesn’t notice the sultry wink in his direction as he slams the door shut behind him. But Mary does.

“What the hell?” She snaps, crossing her arms. “Did you just…?”

The demon just shrugs nonchalantly as she trails off in disbelief.

“Why?” She wonders aloud. “I saw how close Sam was to killing you.”

“It’s fun.” He says, chipper, “Toying with Moose really gets me going.”

Mary shifts at that. She doesn’t like the obsession this creature has with her boys.

Chapter Text

Dean manages to make it to the kitchen before he realizes that they’re still out of beer. Dear God , would it kill Sam to pick up a six pack for him?

He’d go to the store now, but Cass is probably in the Impala, still reeling from the bomb Dean had dropped on him. To ask him to move now would just be cruel. Dean can’t do that to him.

Cass probably wants to smash his head against a wall–hell, Dean wants to smash his own head against a wall.

Suddenly, the bunker walls feel too confining.

No. Not confining. Suffocating. Constant reminders of how good he had it with Cass. He remembers the beet. The terribly salty pie he ate just because Cass made it. 

His room.

His room is filled with memories of Cass. Both before they became involved and during. He can’t stand the thought of either set of memories coming up now though.

Dean just needs to get the hell out of here.

Maybe he can scream into the empty road and come back inside nice and refreshed.

Dean marches up the bunker stairs and almost opens the door. The relief he feels when outside is immediate. That is, until he hears a hellish growl.

…

Sam scoffs as he stares down at his phone. Dean’s laziness knows no bounds. They’re literally a yard away at most . He debates even answering. Dean’ll probably demand Sam help him with some jerky or something he’s perfectly able of finding himself. Then there’s the possibility of a butt dial. No way does he want to listen to a DeanCas smoochfest–not again.

But like it or not, Crowley got to him in the dungeon. Maybe some ‘Dean’ is just what he needs to get back into his groove. Plus, he suspects that Dean will keep calling until Sam gets annoyed and picks up. He’ll save himself from listening to his annoying ringtone on repeat by humoring his brother.

“Hey.” He says, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Sam!” Dean’s fearful voice comes through the speaker and instantly, he knows something is wrong. “I, uh, went outside.” He says gravely.

For a moment, Sam thinks that Dean is just messing with him, until he remembers what was outside.

“Hold on!” he says quickly, grabbing the glasses, unable to stop Crowley’s taunt from playing in his head. ‘ The real favor would be allowing the world to see you in those glasses. ’

He hopes that Dean has a blade with him. Or something to buy him a few seconds.

Sam slips on the glasses as he hurries up the stairs. He punches in Mom’s number as he opens the door. His eyes land immediately on Dean. He’s too far from the door to be pulled in. The ground around him is scuffed. Juliet is circling him.

“Hey!” Sam calls, immediately grabbing the beast's attention.

Now that it’s inching closer to him, he adjusts the blade in his hand, the other holds the phone to his ear.

Come on, Mom, pick up . And for once the universe listens to him.

“Put Crowley on the phone.” Sam says urgently.

There’s some shuffling before Crowley’s voice comes through the speaker. “Can’t stand the sight of me, Moose?”

Sam chooses to ignore that,  only to wave away Dean’s incredulous look.

“Uh, Sam?! I’m about to be dog chow here!” His brother panickedly yells, clearly not understanding that Sam’s working on it.

“Tell your hellhound to back down or Mom will kill you.”

“There’s no need for threats.” Crowley’s voice is annoyingly calm. “She likes you. Just pet her.”

This again? Why would Sam get any closer than necessary to the beast?

Yet, Juliet sits when he raises his hand, thumping her tail energetically against the floor.

Sam snatches his hand back. If she’s so tame, then why was she circling Dean?

“Come on.” Crowley croons. “Just a little pat on the head and I’ll instruct her to leave Dean alone.”

That sounds… like a pretty good deal.

“And Cass and Mom.” Sam counters.

Crowley’s exasperated sigh is drowned out by Dean’s protests.

“What no!” Dean snaps, throwing up his hands as Sam takes a step closer to the hound. “Are you insane?! Now’s not the time to—” he yells, panicked.

Juliet snarls and Sam quickly puts his hand back out to grab her attention.

“Sam, she’s going to bite your hand off and maul us both.” Dean grits out in anger.

“Maybe.” Sam says as he inches forward.

He can practically hear Crowley’s glee on the other end.

Closer.

Closer.

When his hand rests against the cold, velvety skin and nothing violent happens, Sam releases the breath he was holding.

“Good girl.” He says shakily.

“Put me on speaker.” Crowley says, making him jump.

As Dean just looks on incredulously, Sam fumbles with his phone but manages to hit the right button.

“Juliet, no more bothering Squirrel or Feathers or Mama Bear.”

Juliet huffs and raises a paw to her nose.

“I know it’s boring.” Crowley continues. “But you’ll be a good girl, won’t you?”

The bark she lets out sounds almost affronted.

“Now, run along.”

As the massive hound stands, Sam appreciates how big she really is. Juliet is almost as tall as he is. Her legs are massive and she disappears almost instantly, bounding into the treeline.

“Why didn’t you just kill it?” Dean demands, shoving at his shoulder.

That’s a good question.

…

Dean is clearly shaken as they head back to the bunker.

Sam can only imagine what horrible memories being cornered by a hellhound brought up for him. Sam can still hear Dean’s screams as Lilith’s hound ripped him to shreds. He can still see the claw marks, the blood. The visible bone and organs that made his stomach churn, and worst of all, the glassiness of Dean’s eyes as they remained frozen, staring at the ceiling.

Sam swallows and rests a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He says.

Dean gives him a strange look.

“Sorry that happened. I should have– I know that must have brought up stuff.” He says at last.

“No.” Dean says swiftly, shaking Sam’s hand off and turning to leave.

“Hey.” Sam says, causing Dean to halt his retreat. “Maybe you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Yes, he knows about the books now. About how they’ve both been lying to each other. But Sam gets why they did it. They’re both insecure and bad at talking about their feelings. The books had been like a cheat sheet. But now they’re in a better place. He’s positive they’ll talk it out and have a good laugh.

But the real reason he’s bringing this up is that this is the first time Dean has an opportunity to share his feelings with a significant other. He knows that Dean trusts him with his life, but he also knows that brotherly affection can’t substitute for true love. He wants Dean to experience that connection with someone. Namely, Cass.

When Dean remains silent, Sam pushes a little. “Cass? You can talk-”

“We’re done.” Dean says venomously.  He wavers on his feet as though saying it out loud really cemented it. Sam reaches out to steady him.

Shock renders him silent. They were going steady. All flirty and lovey dovey. What the hell happened?

“We’re done.” Dean repeats this time sombrely. His hands are gripping his elbows and he looks small in a way he hasn’t before. “I can’t be here.” He says suddenly.

Sam nods in understanding. “Let’s head out then.”

Now’s not the time to ask for details. Dean’s poker face is falling fast and it’s clear that his heart is breaking. 

Chapter Text

The side-long glance of hope and heartbreak that Dean gives the Impala tells Sam that they're not traveling by Chevy today. It's almost as though Dean is waiting for something to happen. What that is, Sam has no clue. But Dean isn't in the right state of mind to field questions.

Just in case, Sam gives it a minute. He half hopes that something - anything - will happen. If only to stop Dean's forlorn expression.

But as they stand there, his brother's expression becomes more and more dejected. His shoulders are slack and his eyes are glassy as he stares at the empty car. All of a sudden, Sam gets it. The reason Dean seems immobilized. The reason he doesn't step closer to the car.

Sam knows Dean has a lot of memories with Cass in Baby. Some of them Sam wishes he was never privy to, but impactful memories all the same.

With a grimace, he tugs on Dean's shoulder, guiding him to another car. The same car he used to carry Cass to the farmers market actually.

He realizes just how shaken Dean is when he gets into the passenger seat and doesn't even bother flicking on the radio. Sam wordlessly gets into the driver's seat, wincing as the engine turning over shatters the delicate silence.

There's a brief moment of panic as he pulls out of the garage. Quickly adjusting his glasses, Sam scans the terrain. Juliet is still lurking. But she doesn't seem keen on eating them. She'll listen to Crowley and leave them alone.

Sam tightens his grip on the wheel and shifts in his seat. Since when does he take Crowley's word? The thought is disturbing, but what bothers him most is how easy he let the demon get to him.

Maybe tonight won't just be about cheering Dean up. Maybe it'll give Sam the time and space to figure out what's going on with Crowley.

Sam has no idea where they're going, so he goes as slowly as he can without causing a pile up. He wants to cheer Dean up. His first thought is a nice diner near town. Burgers and milkshakes always cheer Dean up.

One glance at his brother has him rethinking that idea. His expression is stuck between sulky and angry. Dean won't be cheered up today. The fact that he hasn't commented on Sam's speed is reason enough. He wants to stew in his emotions… maybe even let them out.

Drumming his fingers on the wheel, Sam gives it another moment of thought before turning right.

Immediately, Dean seems to catch onto his plan. He sees interest flash across his face before he settles into his seat once more.

As Sam draws closer to the establishment, he finds himself doubtful. Maybe this isn't the best idea.

Dean and bars spell trouble on a good day.

On a day like today, he expects brawls and hookups and general mania. The hookups are what he's mainly worried about. He still doesn't know what happened to Dean and Cass, but he doesn't think Dean should go on the rebound so soon.

It's too late to turn back now, Sam thinks, as he pulls into the parking spot. At least he's here with Dean. Maybe he can temper him.  Stop him from doing something he’ll regret.

Dean gives him an indiscernible look. Then, he hops out and heads straight for the door.

…

Leaving the hellhound glasses in the car, Sam finds Dean at the bar. He's casually leaning against the counter, a beer already resting in front of him.

He perches on the stool next to Dean and shakes himself a little, just to help him relax. Dean's lips twitch at the movement, which Sam sees as an absolute win.

"At least you haven't started with whiskey," Sam quips, gesturing to the chilled beer.

Dean gives him a sardonic look before pushing the bottle over. "This is yours, Sammy. The hot waitress went to get me a fresh bottle."

Sure enough, Dean drinks straight from the newly-opened scotch and whoops loudly before grinning at Sam. After the pressure of the past few days, he caves, downing a few beers. Just enough to give him a good buzz.

Plus, drinking with his brother is fun. Like a weird family bonding thing where they can actually talk to each other and say all the things they can't when they're sober.

"Cass has a book too," Dean hums, staring down into his bottle.

"Say what?" Sam demands incredulously.

"The one Crowley has? That's his.” Taking another large swig, “His very own Dean cheat sheet," he mocks but his sarcastic tone doesn’t hide the heartbreak..

Sam swallows his shock with a shot and fights the urge to point out that Dean did the same. Honestly, he thought Dean would move past it quickly. After all, they both did it out of love, not malice.

"Dean," Sam shakes his head. "You two are great. You'll realise you only got those books because you care. Cass will too."

Dean lets out a dry laugh. "S’not why we broke up," he mumbles under his breath.

With furrowed brows, Sam leans closer, wanting to hear Dean clearly past his buzz and the noisiness of the bar.

"It's because Chuck wanted us together." Dean hisses bitterly. "Why else would we find those stupid books? Why else has no one heard of 'em?"

Sam blinks at the implication. "That's… heavy." He says. "But does it really matter? That he wants you to be together? You guys care about each-"

Dean slams the bottle down, effectively cutting him off. "No, we don't." He growls. "Some dude is just making us! He's messing with our emotions so he can please the 'fandom'! I refuse to let my feelings be altered to suit the whims of a bunch of fangirls." With that, he lets out a huff and takes a long pull of whiskey.

When he sets the container down, the look he gives Sam is curious in all the wrong ways.

"Enough about me." Dean says slowly, his voice sounding way too lucid for someone who's has a third bottle of scotch.

"What the hell was that anyway?" Dean barks in an overly loud voice. "Earlier. With you and Crowley?"

…

Castiel lets out shallow breaths as he approaches the door. Mary opens it and smiles brightly at him.

"I'm taking over for you." He forces himself to say.

Only when Mary leaves does he let his angel blade slide into his hand as he turns to face the maker of his woes: Crowley

Chapter Text

Those beers brought a flush to his cheeks, but Dean's comment sets his face aflame. If Dean of all people can tell that something's up… Then it must be glaringly obvious.

Sam feels his stomach sink. What if Crowley noticed?

"You know that m'not blind." Dean's voice comes out garbled but the serious undertone in his voice scatters Sam's thoughts.

Sam's knee jerk reaction is to panic,  which only makes him extra defensive. And when he feels cornered, he falls back on dry humour. "I was trying to save the dumbass I share blood with."

Dean gives him a harsh look and bites, "S'not my fault a hellhound was waiting outside." 

Sam splutters. "It’s not like I didn't tell you she was there, Dean."

"Should have stabbed it." Dean slams the bottle down, as though to illustrate his point.

It only serves to anger Sam. "You want to know why I was speaking to Crowley?"

He doesn't bother giving Dean a chance to answer. "I was trying to convince him to call his dog off before she ate you alive. I was being a sensitive brother and trying to spare you from the trauma."

Dean just scoffs and takes another swing. "I don't wanna talk ’bout this."

Now that's amusing, since Dean brought it up in the first place. Sam lets it slide. He knows Dean’s drunk and reeling emotionally from his break up with Cass. He needs to let that frustration out somehow. Wailing on Sam is the tamest of Dean's usual options.

"What am I going to do?" Dean sounds lost as he stares down at his hands woefully.

"We do what we always do." Sam says. "We work it out. Together."

Dean is silent for a moment. Then he lifts his head and looks directly at Sam. "Y'know that brunette behind you has been giving me eyes all night."

Sam cringes and struggles not to turn.

"Only reason I'm even thinkin' of going over there is cause of those blue eyes. So damn blue." He groans.

Well that's a shocker. Sam thought Dean jumped off the Cass train.

"Aren't you a free man now?"

"I was never trapped Sam." He whispers in defeat. "Was fallin n'love with the bastard. Breakin' up ain't changing that."

"Then why did you break up again?" Either those bears are messing with his memory or there just isn't a good enough reason.

"Princes!" Dean blurts, rubbing a hand down his face. "Prin-nipples."

"Principles?" Sam sniggers.

"That shit." Dean deadpans. Taking another deep swing.

Dear God, who's going to drive them home?

…

"You did this." Castile hisses lowly. "You planted the seed in his mind and now-" Cass breaks off with a shuddering breath.

Crowley just stares at him like he's gone mad.

Maybe he has. Maybe having and managing to lose Dean's affection has destroyed him. He certainly doesn't feel whole.

His entire body is thrumming with untapped rage that wars with the most profound sorrow he has ever felt. His skin feels so sensitive and his grace is a tumultuous force inside him.

Castile wishes he could explode. Explode and take Crowley out in the blast.

"I hate you." Castiel draws his blade. "I hate you from the bottom of my heart."

Now Crowley's face shows real fear.

Good. He deserves to suffer.

"Now, let's be reasonable." Crowley says, his voice no longer sounds confident. The fear is starting to show as he tugs against the chains strapping him to the chair.

"Mama Winchester!" He bellows, his eyes darting to and fro.

"She can't save you from me." Castiel assures. "No one can."

"Then I guess the poor bloke I stole this blood from must be 'no one'."

"What?" Then his eyes flit over to the side of Crowley's chair and the sloppy banishing sigil that's been painted on its side.

With a jolt, he realises that the demon had been playing him… stalling. There's not even a moment to reply to that smug smirk before he's blasted away.

…

Dean is sagging over his lap. He's way past gone and Sam just knows that its all gonna come back up in a couple hours. Sam had hoped to be out of the way but that doesn't seem probable.

The bar has mostly cleared up and their barista gives him pitiful looks as she wipes down the counter. 

"Ugh." Dean grumbles, blinking up at him.

"You sobered up?" The clear answer is no, but Dean nods yes and pushes himself up, grabbing onto the clean counter to stop himself from toppling right out of his chair.

Sam sighs as Dean stands shakily and drapes an arm around his shoulder to help guide him to the door.

"M'book." Dean groans.

"What?"

Dean braces himself against the Impala as Sam fumbles for the keys. "Let's write a book Sammy."

In shock, Sam glances up at his brother's infallible expression.

"Don't wantcha to feel left out."

With a raised brow he stuffs Dean back into the car.

"I got one… Cass too." Dean slurs. "We're a team… team free will."

Sam walks around the car and hops into the driver's seat. Thank God, Dean hadn't insisted on driving.

"How to Tame a Moose." Dean spreads his hands wide and cackles. "By Carver frickin' Edlund."

That is strange. That he doesn't have a book. It seemed unimportant at first, but now that Dean has brought it up…

Chuck likes him just as much as Dean. Maybe there is a third book. About him. And even if there isn't… Crowley doesn't know that.

They can get him in their clutches. Two books to his one.

"Dean," he turns to his brother. "You're a- " genius "asleep."

That doesn't matter though, because as the alcohol slowly fades, a plan begins to take shape in Sam's mind. One of the most conniving plans he ever thought of.

Crowley is going to pay for messing with their heads.