Catching a Clue (Dean/Cas)
Title: Catching a Clue, or Five Times Dean and Cas Are Mistaken For a Couple and One Time It's Not a Mistake
Author: destial
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: dense!Dean, grumpy!Cas, and possibly exasperated!Sam
Spoilers: Assume anything through the first five seasonsAuthor notes: So, this was written for deancas_xmas for heathenseyes. There have been recent developments in monster hunting that I've chosen to disregard completely. This is one of those season six alternatives where Cas never got back his wings and Sam never went to hell. Let's just assume they pushed Lucifer-in-Nick into the pit, for convenience's sake.
Summary: As they check out the third house on the list - which, annoyingly enough, Dean really likes - he steps up, next to Sam, and mutters, "I almost miss when people kept mistaking us for a gay couple. They're a lot more aggressive with me and Cas." "You know, I've noticed that too," Sam admits before, despite what he later claims, totally geeking out about the back patio. And, okay, it might be nice to have a back patio. Damn, Dean thinks he might be going domestic.
Catching a Clue
They were just finally getting the hang of this traveling in three thing - as opposed to the years Dean had traveled around as one half of a pair - the first time it happened.
Cas has been adjusting pretty well to his newfound humanity, in that no one could claim he was some drugged out love guru, which Dean was counting as a win. Some days he did seem pretty damn set on winning some secret bitch off he had going on with Sam, but that really should have been expected.
Today they are between cases, which seems to be happening more and more recently. They're in a diner, Sam stretched out on one side of the booth, Cas hedging Dean in towards the window on the other. He still hasn't gotten the hang of personal space and has taken to attacking Dean's complaints about it outright by sitting/standing even closer. Today is a fairly good day, though. No one's blamed anyone else for anything, no fights have started, and Dean hasn't somehow offended either princess's delicate sensibilities in some new and obscene way. It's already dinner time and they've probably just had their most peaceful day, hell, ever as the three of them.
So of course, that's when it happens. Dean and Cas are sitting there, waiting for Sam to finish eating, when the waitress comes back around.
"Anything else I can get for you boys?" She asks and she's all warm smiles rather than flirty ones, which isn't too weird by its self. She isn't looking at Sam when she says, "Dessert? We've got this Sweetheart Sundae Special going on."
Dean can't have heard her right, though.
"Excuse me?" he says, giving Sam an affronted look. It's been a while since they were mistaken for a gay couple, just long enough to really pull the rug out from under him now.
"One big sundae, two cherries, two spoons," she explains, as if that's what he'd been asking. She glances over towards Sam and confuses the hell out of Dean by saying, "We've got a regular sundae too, sugar, if you're interested."
The way she leers around the word 'interested' makes Dean think she's talking about something other than the sundae. But it isn't until he notices Sam's shit eating grin that he realizes what just happened.
"No," Sam says as Dean's openly gapping across the table. "No, I think I've had enough sweet things today. Thanks though."
The waitress huffs but doesn't look too put out. She turns back to Dean and Cas.
"What about you two? Want that special?"
"No!" Dean says and maybe he's being a little too forceful with it, if the taken aback look on the girl's face means anything, but this is just not fair.
"I would like to try the sundae," Cas says beside him and god damn it, he is giving Dean his "stop treating me like a human child" look that he gets whenever he thinks Dean is making all his new, human decisions for him.
The waitress is trying very hard not to smirk because that expression on Cas's face looks like most people's "my boyfriend is an idiot" face, Dean's just realizing.
"Can we just get the check?" Dean asks, completely ignoring Cas. Their waitress just stands there, looking from Dean to Cas and back, an eyebrow raised. Dean stares right back at her, still ignoring Castiel's glare - little bastard hates being ignored, turns out - and Sam's stupid grinning face. But Dean's only one man and he breaks, adding, "And a regular sundae for my friend here."
The waitress beams and walks off. Dean isn't sure what look Cas is giving him now - surely he's still looking at Dean because that hasn't changed since becomming human - but Dean really can't look at him right now. Instead, he glares bloody murder at his brother, who has doubled over laughing across from them.
"That is just… just so many levels of perfect," he manages to say and he's smiling so big it has to hurt.
Something loosens inside Dean at that, seeing his brother looking so happy, so he only responds with, "Shut up and finish your salad, you pansy."
The waitress comes back around and sets down what actually looks like a pretty good sundae, vanilla ice cream smothered in hot fudge and whip cream, a perfect cherry resting on top. She hands Cas a single spoon and Dean the check, rolling her eyes at Dean.
"Sure you don't want another spoon?" She asks, voice teasing, right as Cas picks up the cherry and offers it to Dean with a curt, "Here, Dean."
"Thanks," Dean says, and takes it, because Cas has a habit of giving him food for some reason and it's natural now. Seeing the expression on the waitress's face - a sort of combination between love-struck and that look girls get when they see kittens - makes him wish Cas had waited to gift him with vaguely erotic fruit until later… that came out wrong.
Looking down at the fruit in question, though, gives him an idea.
"Hey, sweetheart," he says, leaning against the table. "You mind bringing us some more cherries? Stems attached, please."
"Sure," she says and she can't quite hold back her grin as she walks off.
"Cas," Dean says before popping the cherry in his mouth and tugging it off the stem with his lips. He brandishes the stem for emphasis. "I'm going to teach you how to tie a cherry stem in a knot using only your mouth."
"Why can't I use my hands?" he asks and he doesn't need to say, "That would be far easier," for Dean to hear it anyway. He then takes a very generous bite of his sundae and Dean kind of wishes he'd got one too.
"Trust me, it's better this way," Dean responds, kicking Sam under the table. "Sammy'll do it too. You still remember, right? Haven't let me down, have you?"
Sam rolls his eyes but then he ruins it by smirking and saying, "Haven't let any girls down, if that's what you mean."
Dean is grinning as he turns back to Cas.
"It'll be fun," he says and counts it a sure thing when Cas's lips twitch around his spoon.
Cas catches on pretty fast and Dean ends up eating half the sundae anyway because Cas ignores it in favor of exercising his newfound talent.
"So," Sam says to him later, voice pitched low as to not wake Cas. "You and Cas?"
Tonight is Sam and Dean's night to share a bed. They have a new system, as long as the hotel has queens and not twins, that allows them each to have their own bed every three nights by constantly rotating who changes. Dean should have realized when he had to bunk with Sam again that it would force Sam to revert back to his 12-year-old girl self, the age when dad decided Dean was old enough to deserve a roll away bed instead of sharing with his little brother.
He rolls over to face his brother and Sam is looking at him with wide, curious eyes. Not teasing.
"What about me and Cas?" Dean asks.
"Is there something there?" Sam asks. "I mean, I laughed at the diner but that was mostly because of your face. I wouldn't care if- you two have always had a, um, special relationship."
" 'course we have, Sammy. Can't get more special than pulling a guy out of hell."
At Sam's expression, he sighs.
"Don't you think you'd know? We live in each other's pockets, man. If there was something going on, you think I'd be able to hide it?"
"It is kind of the Winchester Way, Dean," Sam responds.
Dean props himself so he can look down at his brother.
"Nothing's going on, Sam. Now are you going to sleep or are you going to braid my hair?"
Sam snorts and turns his back to Dean, who is about to do the same when he glances over at the former angel. Cas sprawls when he sleeps now. He used to curl up, unless he was in the Impala when he fell asleep, but Dean thinks that had more to do with how unsafe he felt in his newly mortal body. Now he stretches out like a giant cat, hogging most of the mattress - and he's a classic blanket hog and pillow stealer, though he thoroughly denies both accusations.
Dean rolls over, faces the door - the final, unspoken defense passed down from John Winchester; a shield of flesh and blood to protect Sammy and, now, Cas - and falls asleep.
The next time it happens, Dean isn't any more prepared for it.
They're in Wal Mart, which Dean still kind of resents. Growing up, it had been all thrift stores and corner markets. He feels stupidly out of place, pushing a cart around the superstore, even though it's been six years since Sam came back into his life and decided this store was the best option.
It does have its benefits, of course. Everything they need is all in one place, which saves time they don't actually need anymore, since the world's monsters seem to have taken a chill pill.
Sam spilt the second they came in through the giant, automatic doors. Some bullshit about a new phone, maybe? Product for his girly, long hair? Whatever it was he's after, it left Dean and Cas alone to do their half of the shopping.
Which, today, meant buying Cas some more shirts.
"I just don't get why I need so many," Cas complains, leaning heavily on the cart. If Dean doesn't take it back from him soon, Cas'll be full on slouching, elbows in the kid seat, the bar pressed into his armpits and everything. Dean thinks he's still adjusting to having a human's stamina because he always gets tired if they're walking around for too long, especially if there's no adrenaline high thrown in there from hunting.
"The more shirts you have, the less often we have to do laundry," Dean replies, scanning the racks for acceptable clothing. Why does everything have to have some tacky design now? What's wrong with just a plain old tee? "And you're not very careful with your clothes so we have to buy you new stuff more often, which we really need to talk about because, come on, man, this is the third time we've had to do this."
Dean can feel the eye roll, even if he can't see it.
"If this is about you or Sam having to do the laundry more often, fine, I will."
Dean freezes, the arm of a long sleeved tee in his hand. He turns back to Castiel who is scowling at him.
"Remember the laundromat?" he asks. There have been a lot of laundry days between now and then, but they all remember the laundromat. "Do you really want to relive that?"
"I still maintain that that wasn't my fault," Cas responds but he's staring at a rack, not Dean.
"You set the dryer on fire!" Dean hisses, turning back to him fully and brandishing the long sleeved tee to emphasize his point.
"That was the salamander!" Cas exclaims, rounding on him. He's pulled his own shirt from the rack, a light blue and green striped button down that he's holding as if he might throw it at Dean. "Remember the salamander? The thing we were there hunting? Remember how we killed it at the laundromat?"
It's Dean's turn to roll his eyes now. He snatches the shirt from Cas, checks the size, and throws it into the cart with the one he had been holding. This happens every time they do this. Clothes shopping for Castiel always boils down to them arguing like this. The first time had been a few days after Cas returned to them, fully human. He hadn't seen the point in changing clothes so often, which, okay, he had been wearing the same outfit for two years at that point. The second time had been Sam's fault. He kept bringing up points of contention between the older hunter and former angel. Then the bastard would sit back and watch as it started another argument; Dean's pretty sure he was just amused that there was someone else for Dean to "annoy."
This isn't the first time they've had this particular disagreement, though.
"Yea, I'm still not convinced of that," he responds. He makes an almost triumphant noise as he spots a selection of plain tee shirts, no douchey design in sight. "It caught fire after we killed the salamander."
"How would I set a dryer on fire, Dean?" Cas demands. He's tossed another shirt in the cart, which looks far too big for him. Whatever, Sam can have a new shirt too. They don't need to dissolve into the "you're second guessing my choices" argument. Not again. "Tell me how I could do that."
Dean shrugs.
"You do a lot of weird shit, Cas. I've stopped questioning it."
"The day you stop questioning anything is the day the sun starts rising in the west."
Dean's about to snap something back, he's not sure what yet, when he notices her. She's an elderly woman, probably in her late fifties, and she's pretending to examine a selection of men's vests. What she's actually doing is staring at them, a smile fighting to break across her face, but she's doing a valiant job at keeping it down. Until she catches his eye, that is, and then a full grin is forming.
"Is there something I can help you with?" Dean asks, trying to sound polite and knowing he's being rude.
"I'm sorry," the lady says, fiddling nervously with one of the hangers in front of her. "You boys just… you reminded me of how me and my Derek used to argue."
"Your Derek?" Cas asks. He's leaning back against the cart, the distraction having calmed him down some, though his brow is still furrowed into a frown.
"My husband," she explains. "When we were young, we used to snipe at each other all the time like that. It's good that you don't hold that in. Couples that banter last."
Cas's frown is changing from his annoyed one to his confused one. Dean just sighs.
"Thanks ma'am," he says, because that's easier than arguing with her and he'd rather she go about her own business when he, inevitably, has to explain this to Castiel.
But Cas doesn't ask. He falls into a contemplative silence and pushes the cart around behind Dean. They meet up with Sam buy the registers and go through the thankfully short line.
It isn't until they're all settled into the Impala that Cas finally speaks up.
"That woman thought we were lovers."
Sam jerks forward, snorting so hard Dean would be worried that he choked if he wasn't sending him a disgusted look for laughing in the first place. He glances at Cas in the rearview mirror but he doesn't look confused. In fact, he looks frustrated.
"Yea, she did," he agrees.
Cas makes a small, angry noise behind him.
"Why do people keep doing that?" he asks.
Dean shrugs, but then thinks more about the question.
"Cas, that's only happened once before. I didn't think you had noticed." Cas's only reply is a deepening of his scowl. Sam shifts beside him, looking out the window instead of smirking at Dean. "That has only happened that one time before, hasn't it?"
"Sam thought it would upset you," Cas says.
Dean rounds on Sam, who shrugs.
"You never took it well when we were mistaken for a gay couple and you'd always start overcompensating. We have enough guys in the car with just the three of us, we don't need you trying to be two at once." Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Until the waitress thing, I didn't know how you'd react so me and Cas just didn't bother bringing it up."
"Yea, whatever," Dean says, starting the car now that that discussion was over. "Doesn't mean anything."
Sam sends him an almost wounded look, the sensitive freak.
"King or two queens?"
Dean blanches, credit card halfway out of his wallet. Cas huffs beside him and throws an elbow at Dean.
"Two queens," Cas says as Dean jerks back into action.
The guy behind the desk gives them a disbelieving look. Castiel has a bitch face going on that rivals Sam's, which probably isn't helping convince this guy that they aren't big on the whole gay love thing.
When Sam sticks his head into the office to see what's taking so long, the guy looks so smug, Dean kind of wants to punch him.
He's thrown again later that night when Sam says, "I think we should consider settling someplace."
Dean's over at the sinks, brushing his teeth. He almost stabs the soft spot on the roof of his mouth when Sam says that and spends the next minute coughing into the basin.
"What?" he says, straightening up and turning around.
It's Sam's turn to sleep alone and he's currently spread out, right in the middle of his queen, laptop resting on his upper thighs. He glances up from the screen at Dean's question.
"We're just driving around aimlessly most days anymore, Dean. I'm not saying we give up the hunt, just that we get a home base."
Dean considers it but apparently takes too long because Sam makes a tut noise and says, "Cas thinks so too, right Cas?"
There's a muffled sound from the other bed. Castiel is already burrowed under the covers, face stuffed into the pillow to block out the lights they still had on. Sam shoots him a dirty look and throws one of his pillows at him.
Cas grunts, propping himself up on his elbows high enough to throw the pillow back.
"What, Sam?" he growls. From experience, Dean can tell he's one wrong word from face planting back into the bedding. Turns out ex-angel's really like their sleep.
"Tell Dean what you told me, when we were talking about getting a house."
"Oh." Cas twists around to look at Dean. He's bleary eyed and grumpy - how he always looks when he wakes up - and Dean's amused despite the way the conversation's going. "I miss having a home."
Dean recoils as if struck. Cas doesn't look accusatory or upset - well, he's upset about being woken, but that's more annoyed than distressed.
"How long have you felt like that, Cas?" Dean asks.
Castiel shrugs, sinking from his elbows back to his stomach. He crosses his arms over his pillow and lays his head against them, staring at Dean.
"I've always missed my home, Dean." His voice is softer now, gruff from sleep but somehow gentle. "It had been hard, being here on earth and barred from heaven. That's no longer my home, but I still miss having one."
Dean nods, scrubbing a hand over his mouth.
"Hadn't thought about that," he admits. "Sorry, Cas. Yea, that's something we can think about. Not like I'm inherently against the idea or something."
"Really?" Sam asks with a wry smile. "Because the word 'home' usually makes you cringe."
Dean's not exactly sure what's changed so he doesn't respond. Sam's smile wanes; he's giving Dean that concerned look that he really can't stand.
He's surprised when all Sam says is, "We can talk more about it tomorrow."
Dean nods, sitting on the edge of his bed for the night. Castiel is looking at him still, having rolled onto his side, and when Dean turns toward him, he raises an eyebrow.
"You coming to bed?" Cas asks, holding up the edge of the blanket.
With Cas acting like that, Dean suddenly realizes why people keep thinking they're a couple. He considers calling him on it for a moment, then lets it go.
"Yea," he says instead.
Sam finds them a landlord to speak with within weeks of talking it over. Fred Curik owns quite a few houses across northeast Nebraska, most of which should be in the price range Sam decided on.
"Why Nebraska?" Dean had asked when Sam told them about the appointment three days earlier. Sam had paused in his packing to say, "Well, I figured you'd want to be someplace central and when I told Bobby that we were looking for a place, he threatened to dust off the shot gun if we moved in down the road." Cas had snorted and said, "Yea, that sounds about right."
Please-call-me-Fred led them into an office, stuffed to the brink with what appeared to be very comfortable chairs. There was a desk shoved into the corner with a computer chair in front of it. This, Fred claimed for himself, wheeling it forward once he was sitting and leaning forward. In Dean's opinion, he was a little too inviting.
Dean sits down on the couch, grunting as Cas plops down beside him.
"Dude," he hisses, shoving Cas in the direction of a chair. At the look Cas sends him and the whispered, "What, Dean?" he slumps back, muttering, "Never mind, whatever."
Sam sends them both an amused look from the chair closest to Dean.
"Okay, so I went over the specifications that Sam-" Fred pauses, looking at them each over the top of his glasses. Sam gives him a small nod and Fred grins at him. "I went over the specifications Sam sent me and I have a short listing of what should be acceptable two bedrooms houses."
"Wait," Dean cuts in. "No, we need three bedrooms."
Fred looks up from the packet of papers in his hands, startled.
"Oh, I assure you, we're very accommodating. I know small towns have a bad reputation when it comes to how they treat homosexuality, but your application won't be denied for that reason."
Dean stares at the man for a moment.
"You're not serious, are you?" he finally asks. "We need three bedrooms."
"Oh," Fred says, looking between Dean and Sam. "Ah, your, your brother? He told me you would only be needing two."
Dean turns towards Sam who has a giant fake smile plastered onto his face.
"What're you playing at, Sam?"
"Well," Sam says, glancing at Fred before leaning towards Dean. "I was hoping that we'd all be playing house pretty soon, actually." He leans closer, dropping his voice to add, "Dean, we can't afford a three bedroom yet. Go along with it." Sam leans back in his chair again, letting his voice rise as he says, "Besides, if you're going to be shy about it, Cas and I can share a room, we're practically brothers anyway."
He smirks at Cas, who's giving him an assessing look, before turning back to Fred.
"Two is all we'll be needing."
As they check out the third house on the list - which, annoyingly enough, Dean really likes - he steps up, next to Sam, and mutters, "I almost miss when people kept mistaking us for a gay couple. They're a lot more aggressive with me and Cas."
"You know, I've noticed that too," Sam admits before, despite what he later claims, totally geeking out about the back patio.
And, okay, it might be nice to have a back patio. Damn, Dean thinks he might be going domestic.
The house they get is furnished, which is nice because Dean's nowhere near ready to go couch shopping. It has two bedrooms, a basement, an attic, and - the deal breaker for Dean - a full garage. They decide to go celebrate at a nearby bar and Dean reels as he realizes he'll actually have to consider the impression he's making here because he might be seeing these people again. One of them might be his future boss, his next door neighbor.
God, he had neighbors now.
"Three of whatever's on tap," Dean says, leaning against the bar. Cas is perched on the stool next to him. Dean can feel his body heat along his side.
The bartender, a woman past her prime but still pretty easy on the eyes, gives him a flirty smile that he can't help return.
An hour later and Dean's feeling pleasantly buzzed, laughing too loudly at something Castiel just said. The ex-angel is extraordinarily expressive, Dean realizes as he smiles, laughing along with Dean.
"You lovebirds ready for another refill?" the bartender asks and that's when Dean realizes not only has Sam ditched them, but he and Cas are very much within each other's personal bubbles.
Dean jerks back and enough is enough.
"I don't know why people keep assuming we're a couple, but I wish to hell that it would stop!" he exclaims. The bartender looks taken aback, but not too offended, so Dean doesn't feel like too big a dick for continuing. "We're not a couple, we've never been a couple, we don't ever want to be a couple."
"Speak for yourself."
And that wasn't exactly the response he'd been expecting.
"Excuse me?" he says, turning back to Cas, who is scowling at him pretty powerfully.
"I said that you should speak for yourself," Cas repeats. "I hate when you decide things like that for me. You've never had romantic feelings for me, fine, but don't assume it's the same for me without even asking."
"But…" Dean stares at the other man for a moment. He doesn't really understand what's happening. "You haven't, have you?"
"Yes, Dean, I have," Castiel says simply, still looking faintly annoyed. There is no trace of humor on his face.
"But- what?"
"Oh, I swear." Cas sighs, slouching forward more towards Dean. "If you were anymore oblivious to the things right in front of you, I would insist on you never driving."
"You have feelings for me?" Dean asks, still not sure he gets it.
"I have many feelings for you, Dean," Cas replies. Despite the words, it doesn't sound like necessarily a good thing. "Very, very many. Occasionally, they are of the more personal persuasion. So, please, refrain from deciding my feelings for me in the future."
Castiel turns back to his beer, apologizes to the bartender, and proceeds to pick up the topic they'd been talking about before, as if he hadn't just redefined the tilt of the world's axis.
"So, wait," he interrupts, "do you- do you want-"
He pauses, not sure how to finish that question.
Cas sighs again, his eyes softening.
"I don't want anything from you, Dean," he says, voice gentle. "I've never asked anything from you and I'm not going to. These things are difficult for you and I respect that. Please don't feel obligat-"
"I don't," Dean interrupts again. "I- This is just really sudden." A thought occurs to him. "Does Sam know?"
Castiel nods.
"He agreed with my decision to not tell you. Sam thought you might not be receptive to the idea."
Not receptive? Dean feels himself scowl, though he's not sure why. Cas peers at him for a moment before asking, "Are you, Dean?"
"I don’t know," Dean admits. "I've never seriously thought about it before."
Cas nods again.
"We should we talk about this more when we're both more sober," he suggests and Dean can't help but agree.
They end up leaving the bar and going back home - home, god, that still feels weird to think. Dean assures Cas that Sam will find his own way home, wherever he is, and yes, Dean can drive when just a little tipsy.
Dean decides maybe they should talk now, but he's been thinking about it the entire way back from the bar and before he knows what's happening, he's kissing Castiel.
Castiel, who is, apparently, very responsive.
When Sam stumbles in an hour later, Cas has pushed Dean onto his back and they're lying together on the couch, exchanging lazy kisses.
"Oh my god, guys, get a room already," Sam slurs, walking through the living room and into the kitchen.
Dean jerks back, surprised and a little embarrassed, but Cas just huffs out a laugh, resting his forehead against Dean's collarbone. There's a crash from the kitchen and then Sam's back in the living room, staring at them with wide eyes.
"When'd this happen?" he demands.
"Well, it was happening up until you walked in," Cas shoots back. He pushes himself up to properly look at Sam, who breaks into a grin.
"Go you, huh?" he says. "Didn't know you had it in you, Cas. Did Dean finally catch a clue or did you have to beat him over the head a little?"
"Very funny, Dean's an idiot," Dean grouses, shoving Cas off him so he can sit up too. "Now, you going to give us some privacy or am I going to have to embarrass you?"
"I'll leave you guys be tonight, because, quite frankly, I think I'm drunk," Sam says and Dean can't help but grin at his brother. "But if you two are starting something, we're going to need to abide by the 'get a room' rule. I've been scarred enough by you, Dean, don't need to be traumatized in my own, brand new home."
With that, he leaves them alone. Cas turns to Dean and leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Dean's lips.
"I forget where we are in the cycle," he says. "It's Sam's turn to sleep alone, right?"
Author: destial
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: dense!Dean, grumpy!Cas, and possibly exasperated!Sam
Spoilers: Assume anything through the first five seasonsAuthor notes: So, this was written for deancas_xmas for heathenseyes. There have been recent developments in monster hunting that I've chosen to disregard completely. This is one of those season six alternatives where Cas never got back his wings and Sam never went to hell. Let's just assume they pushed Lucifer-in-Nick into the pit, for convenience's sake.
Summary: As they check out the third house on the list - which, annoyingly enough, Dean really likes - he steps up, next to Sam, and mutters, "I almost miss when people kept mistaking us for a gay couple. They're a lot more aggressive with me and Cas." "You know, I've noticed that too," Sam admits before, despite what he later claims, totally geeking out about the back patio. And, okay, it might be nice to have a back patio. Damn, Dean thinks he might be going domestic.
Catching a Clue
They were just finally getting the hang of this traveling in three thing - as opposed to the years Dean had traveled around as one half of a pair - the first time it happened.
Cas has been adjusting pretty well to his newfound humanity, in that no one could claim he was some drugged out love guru, which Dean was counting as a win. Some days he did seem pretty damn set on winning some secret bitch off he had going on with Sam, but that really should have been expected.
Today they are between cases, which seems to be happening more and more recently. They're in a diner, Sam stretched out on one side of the booth, Cas hedging Dean in towards the window on the other. He still hasn't gotten the hang of personal space and has taken to attacking Dean's complaints about it outright by sitting/standing even closer. Today is a fairly good day, though. No one's blamed anyone else for anything, no fights have started, and Dean hasn't somehow offended either princess's delicate sensibilities in some new and obscene way. It's already dinner time and they've probably just had their most peaceful day, hell, ever as the three of them.
So of course, that's when it happens. Dean and Cas are sitting there, waiting for Sam to finish eating, when the waitress comes back around.
"Anything else I can get for you boys?" She asks and she's all warm smiles rather than flirty ones, which isn't too weird by its self. She isn't looking at Sam when she says, "Dessert? We've got this Sweetheart Sundae Special going on."
Dean can't have heard her right, though.
"Excuse me?" he says, giving Sam an affronted look. It's been a while since they were mistaken for a gay couple, just long enough to really pull the rug out from under him now.
"One big sundae, two cherries, two spoons," she explains, as if that's what he'd been asking. She glances over towards Sam and confuses the hell out of Dean by saying, "We've got a regular sundae too, sugar, if you're interested."
The way she leers around the word 'interested' makes Dean think she's talking about something other than the sundae. But it isn't until he notices Sam's shit eating grin that he realizes what just happened.
"No," Sam says as Dean's openly gapping across the table. "No, I think I've had enough sweet things today. Thanks though."
The waitress huffs but doesn't look too put out. She turns back to Dean and Cas.
"What about you two? Want that special?"
"No!" Dean says and maybe he's being a little too forceful with it, if the taken aback look on the girl's face means anything, but this is just not fair.
"I would like to try the sundae," Cas says beside him and god damn it, he is giving Dean his "stop treating me like a human child" look that he gets whenever he thinks Dean is making all his new, human decisions for him.
The waitress is trying very hard not to smirk because that expression on Cas's face looks like most people's "my boyfriend is an idiot" face, Dean's just realizing.
"Can we just get the check?" Dean asks, completely ignoring Cas. Their waitress just stands there, looking from Dean to Cas and back, an eyebrow raised. Dean stares right back at her, still ignoring Castiel's glare - little bastard hates being ignored, turns out - and Sam's stupid grinning face. But Dean's only one man and he breaks, adding, "And a regular sundae for my friend here."
The waitress beams and walks off. Dean isn't sure what look Cas is giving him now - surely he's still looking at Dean because that hasn't changed since becomming human - but Dean really can't look at him right now. Instead, he glares bloody murder at his brother, who has doubled over laughing across from them.
"That is just… just so many levels of perfect," he manages to say and he's smiling so big it has to hurt.
Something loosens inside Dean at that, seeing his brother looking so happy, so he only responds with, "Shut up and finish your salad, you pansy."
The waitress comes back around and sets down what actually looks like a pretty good sundae, vanilla ice cream smothered in hot fudge and whip cream, a perfect cherry resting on top. She hands Cas a single spoon and Dean the check, rolling her eyes at Dean.
"Sure you don't want another spoon?" She asks, voice teasing, right as Cas picks up the cherry and offers it to Dean with a curt, "Here, Dean."
"Thanks," Dean says, and takes it, because Cas has a habit of giving him food for some reason and it's natural now. Seeing the expression on the waitress's face - a sort of combination between love-struck and that look girls get when they see kittens - makes him wish Cas had waited to gift him with vaguely erotic fruit until later… that came out wrong.
Looking down at the fruit in question, though, gives him an idea.
"Hey, sweetheart," he says, leaning against the table. "You mind bringing us some more cherries? Stems attached, please."
"Sure," she says and she can't quite hold back her grin as she walks off.
"Cas," Dean says before popping the cherry in his mouth and tugging it off the stem with his lips. He brandishes the stem for emphasis. "I'm going to teach you how to tie a cherry stem in a knot using only your mouth."
"Why can't I use my hands?" he asks and he doesn't need to say, "That would be far easier," for Dean to hear it anyway. He then takes a very generous bite of his sundae and Dean kind of wishes he'd got one too.
"Trust me, it's better this way," Dean responds, kicking Sam under the table. "Sammy'll do it too. You still remember, right? Haven't let me down, have you?"
Sam rolls his eyes but then he ruins it by smirking and saying, "Haven't let any girls down, if that's what you mean."
Dean is grinning as he turns back to Cas.
"It'll be fun," he says and counts it a sure thing when Cas's lips twitch around his spoon.
Cas catches on pretty fast and Dean ends up eating half the sundae anyway because Cas ignores it in favor of exercising his newfound talent.
"So," Sam says to him later, voice pitched low as to not wake Cas. "You and Cas?"
Tonight is Sam and Dean's night to share a bed. They have a new system, as long as the hotel has queens and not twins, that allows them each to have their own bed every three nights by constantly rotating who changes. Dean should have realized when he had to bunk with Sam again that it would force Sam to revert back to his 12-year-old girl self, the age when dad decided Dean was old enough to deserve a roll away bed instead of sharing with his little brother.
He rolls over to face his brother and Sam is looking at him with wide, curious eyes. Not teasing.
"What about me and Cas?" Dean asks.
"Is there something there?" Sam asks. "I mean, I laughed at the diner but that was mostly because of your face. I wouldn't care if- you two have always had a, um, special relationship."
" 'course we have, Sammy. Can't get more special than pulling a guy out of hell."
At Sam's expression, he sighs.
"Don't you think you'd know? We live in each other's pockets, man. If there was something going on, you think I'd be able to hide it?"
"It is kind of the Winchester Way, Dean," Sam responds.
Dean props himself so he can look down at his brother.
"Nothing's going on, Sam. Now are you going to sleep or are you going to braid my hair?"
Sam snorts and turns his back to Dean, who is about to do the same when he glances over at the former angel. Cas sprawls when he sleeps now. He used to curl up, unless he was in the Impala when he fell asleep, but Dean thinks that had more to do with how unsafe he felt in his newly mortal body. Now he stretches out like a giant cat, hogging most of the mattress - and he's a classic blanket hog and pillow stealer, though he thoroughly denies both accusations.
Dean rolls over, faces the door - the final, unspoken defense passed down from John Winchester; a shield of flesh and blood to protect Sammy and, now, Cas - and falls asleep.
The next time it happens, Dean isn't any more prepared for it.
They're in Wal Mart, which Dean still kind of resents. Growing up, it had been all thrift stores and corner markets. He feels stupidly out of place, pushing a cart around the superstore, even though it's been six years since Sam came back into his life and decided this store was the best option.
It does have its benefits, of course. Everything they need is all in one place, which saves time they don't actually need anymore, since the world's monsters seem to have taken a chill pill.
Sam spilt the second they came in through the giant, automatic doors. Some bullshit about a new phone, maybe? Product for his girly, long hair? Whatever it was he's after, it left Dean and Cas alone to do their half of the shopping.
Which, today, meant buying Cas some more shirts.
"I just don't get why I need so many," Cas complains, leaning heavily on the cart. If Dean doesn't take it back from him soon, Cas'll be full on slouching, elbows in the kid seat, the bar pressed into his armpits and everything. Dean thinks he's still adjusting to having a human's stamina because he always gets tired if they're walking around for too long, especially if there's no adrenaline high thrown in there from hunting.
"The more shirts you have, the less often we have to do laundry," Dean replies, scanning the racks for acceptable clothing. Why does everything have to have some tacky design now? What's wrong with just a plain old tee? "And you're not very careful with your clothes so we have to buy you new stuff more often, which we really need to talk about because, come on, man, this is the third time we've had to do this."
Dean can feel the eye roll, even if he can't see it.
"If this is about you or Sam having to do the laundry more often, fine, I will."
Dean freezes, the arm of a long sleeved tee in his hand. He turns back to Castiel who is scowling at him.
"Remember the laundromat?" he asks. There have been a lot of laundry days between now and then, but they all remember the laundromat. "Do you really want to relive that?"
"I still maintain that that wasn't my fault," Cas responds but he's staring at a rack, not Dean.
"You set the dryer on fire!" Dean hisses, turning back to him fully and brandishing the long sleeved tee to emphasize his point.
"That was the salamander!" Cas exclaims, rounding on him. He's pulled his own shirt from the rack, a light blue and green striped button down that he's holding as if he might throw it at Dean. "Remember the salamander? The thing we were there hunting? Remember how we killed it at the laundromat?"
It's Dean's turn to roll his eyes now. He snatches the shirt from Cas, checks the size, and throws it into the cart with the one he had been holding. This happens every time they do this. Clothes shopping for Castiel always boils down to them arguing like this. The first time had been a few days after Cas returned to them, fully human. He hadn't seen the point in changing clothes so often, which, okay, he had been wearing the same outfit for two years at that point. The second time had been Sam's fault. He kept bringing up points of contention between the older hunter and former angel. Then the bastard would sit back and watch as it started another argument; Dean's pretty sure he was just amused that there was someone else for Dean to "annoy."
This isn't the first time they've had this particular disagreement, though.
"Yea, I'm still not convinced of that," he responds. He makes an almost triumphant noise as he spots a selection of plain tee shirts, no douchey design in sight. "It caught fire after we killed the salamander."
"How would I set a dryer on fire, Dean?" Cas demands. He's tossed another shirt in the cart, which looks far too big for him. Whatever, Sam can have a new shirt too. They don't need to dissolve into the "you're second guessing my choices" argument. Not again. "Tell me how I could do that."
Dean shrugs.
"You do a lot of weird shit, Cas. I've stopped questioning it."
"The day you stop questioning anything is the day the sun starts rising in the west."
Dean's about to snap something back, he's not sure what yet, when he notices her. She's an elderly woman, probably in her late fifties, and she's pretending to examine a selection of men's vests. What she's actually doing is staring at them, a smile fighting to break across her face, but she's doing a valiant job at keeping it down. Until she catches his eye, that is, and then a full grin is forming.
"Is there something I can help you with?" Dean asks, trying to sound polite and knowing he's being rude.
"I'm sorry," the lady says, fiddling nervously with one of the hangers in front of her. "You boys just… you reminded me of how me and my Derek used to argue."
"Your Derek?" Cas asks. He's leaning back against the cart, the distraction having calmed him down some, though his brow is still furrowed into a frown.
"My husband," she explains. "When we were young, we used to snipe at each other all the time like that. It's good that you don't hold that in. Couples that banter last."
Cas's frown is changing from his annoyed one to his confused one. Dean just sighs.
"Thanks ma'am," he says, because that's easier than arguing with her and he'd rather she go about her own business when he, inevitably, has to explain this to Castiel.
But Cas doesn't ask. He falls into a contemplative silence and pushes the cart around behind Dean. They meet up with Sam buy the registers and go through the thankfully short line.
It isn't until they're all settled into the Impala that Cas finally speaks up.
"That woman thought we were lovers."
Sam jerks forward, snorting so hard Dean would be worried that he choked if he wasn't sending him a disgusted look for laughing in the first place. He glances at Cas in the rearview mirror but he doesn't look confused. In fact, he looks frustrated.
"Yea, she did," he agrees.
Cas makes a small, angry noise behind him.
"Why do people keep doing that?" he asks.
Dean shrugs, but then thinks more about the question.
"Cas, that's only happened once before. I didn't think you had noticed." Cas's only reply is a deepening of his scowl. Sam shifts beside him, looking out the window instead of smirking at Dean. "That has only happened that one time before, hasn't it?"
"Sam thought it would upset you," Cas says.
Dean rounds on Sam, who shrugs.
"You never took it well when we were mistaken for a gay couple and you'd always start overcompensating. We have enough guys in the car with just the three of us, we don't need you trying to be two at once." Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Until the waitress thing, I didn't know how you'd react so me and Cas just didn't bother bringing it up."
"Yea, whatever," Dean says, starting the car now that that discussion was over. "Doesn't mean anything."
Sam sends him an almost wounded look, the sensitive freak.
"King or two queens?"
Dean blanches, credit card halfway out of his wallet. Cas huffs beside him and throws an elbow at Dean.
"Two queens," Cas says as Dean jerks back into action.
The guy behind the desk gives them a disbelieving look. Castiel has a bitch face going on that rivals Sam's, which probably isn't helping convince this guy that they aren't big on the whole gay love thing.
When Sam sticks his head into the office to see what's taking so long, the guy looks so smug, Dean kind of wants to punch him.
He's thrown again later that night when Sam says, "I think we should consider settling someplace."
Dean's over at the sinks, brushing his teeth. He almost stabs the soft spot on the roof of his mouth when Sam says that and spends the next minute coughing into the basin.
"What?" he says, straightening up and turning around.
It's Sam's turn to sleep alone and he's currently spread out, right in the middle of his queen, laptop resting on his upper thighs. He glances up from the screen at Dean's question.
"We're just driving around aimlessly most days anymore, Dean. I'm not saying we give up the hunt, just that we get a home base."
Dean considers it but apparently takes too long because Sam makes a tut noise and says, "Cas thinks so too, right Cas?"
There's a muffled sound from the other bed. Castiel is already burrowed under the covers, face stuffed into the pillow to block out the lights they still had on. Sam shoots him a dirty look and throws one of his pillows at him.
Cas grunts, propping himself up on his elbows high enough to throw the pillow back.
"What, Sam?" he growls. From experience, Dean can tell he's one wrong word from face planting back into the bedding. Turns out ex-angel's really like their sleep.
"Tell Dean what you told me, when we were talking about getting a house."
"Oh." Cas twists around to look at Dean. He's bleary eyed and grumpy - how he always looks when he wakes up - and Dean's amused despite the way the conversation's going. "I miss having a home."
Dean recoils as if struck. Cas doesn't look accusatory or upset - well, he's upset about being woken, but that's more annoyed than distressed.
"How long have you felt like that, Cas?" Dean asks.
Castiel shrugs, sinking from his elbows back to his stomach. He crosses his arms over his pillow and lays his head against them, staring at Dean.
"I've always missed my home, Dean." His voice is softer now, gruff from sleep but somehow gentle. "It had been hard, being here on earth and barred from heaven. That's no longer my home, but I still miss having one."
Dean nods, scrubbing a hand over his mouth.
"Hadn't thought about that," he admits. "Sorry, Cas. Yea, that's something we can think about. Not like I'm inherently against the idea or something."
"Really?" Sam asks with a wry smile. "Because the word 'home' usually makes you cringe."
Dean's not exactly sure what's changed so he doesn't respond. Sam's smile wanes; he's giving Dean that concerned look that he really can't stand.
He's surprised when all Sam says is, "We can talk more about it tomorrow."
Dean nods, sitting on the edge of his bed for the night. Castiel is looking at him still, having rolled onto his side, and when Dean turns toward him, he raises an eyebrow.
"You coming to bed?" Cas asks, holding up the edge of the blanket.
With Cas acting like that, Dean suddenly realizes why people keep thinking they're a couple. He considers calling him on it for a moment, then lets it go.
"Yea," he says instead.
Sam finds them a landlord to speak with within weeks of talking it over. Fred Curik owns quite a few houses across northeast Nebraska, most of which should be in the price range Sam decided on.
"Why Nebraska?" Dean had asked when Sam told them about the appointment three days earlier. Sam had paused in his packing to say, "Well, I figured you'd want to be someplace central and when I told Bobby that we were looking for a place, he threatened to dust off the shot gun if we moved in down the road." Cas had snorted and said, "Yea, that sounds about right."
Please-call-me-Fred led them into an office, stuffed to the brink with what appeared to be very comfortable chairs. There was a desk shoved into the corner with a computer chair in front of it. This, Fred claimed for himself, wheeling it forward once he was sitting and leaning forward. In Dean's opinion, he was a little too inviting.
Dean sits down on the couch, grunting as Cas plops down beside him.
"Dude," he hisses, shoving Cas in the direction of a chair. At the look Cas sends him and the whispered, "What, Dean?" he slumps back, muttering, "Never mind, whatever."
Sam sends them both an amused look from the chair closest to Dean.
"Okay, so I went over the specifications that Sam-" Fred pauses, looking at them each over the top of his glasses. Sam gives him a small nod and Fred grins at him. "I went over the specifications Sam sent me and I have a short listing of what should be acceptable two bedrooms houses."
"Wait," Dean cuts in. "No, we need three bedrooms."
Fred looks up from the packet of papers in his hands, startled.
"Oh, I assure you, we're very accommodating. I know small towns have a bad reputation when it comes to how they treat homosexuality, but your application won't be denied for that reason."
Dean stares at the man for a moment.
"You're not serious, are you?" he finally asks. "We need three bedrooms."
"Oh," Fred says, looking between Dean and Sam. "Ah, your, your brother? He told me you would only be needing two."
Dean turns towards Sam who has a giant fake smile plastered onto his face.
"What're you playing at, Sam?"
"Well," Sam says, glancing at Fred before leaning towards Dean. "I was hoping that we'd all be playing house pretty soon, actually." He leans closer, dropping his voice to add, "Dean, we can't afford a three bedroom yet. Go along with it." Sam leans back in his chair again, letting his voice rise as he says, "Besides, if you're going to be shy about it, Cas and I can share a room, we're practically brothers anyway."
He smirks at Cas, who's giving him an assessing look, before turning back to Fred.
"Two is all we'll be needing."
As they check out the third house on the list - which, annoyingly enough, Dean really likes - he steps up, next to Sam, and mutters, "I almost miss when people kept mistaking us for a gay couple. They're a lot more aggressive with me and Cas."
"You know, I've noticed that too," Sam admits before, despite what he later claims, totally geeking out about the back patio.
And, okay, it might be nice to have a back patio. Damn, Dean thinks he might be going domestic.
The house they get is furnished, which is nice because Dean's nowhere near ready to go couch shopping. It has two bedrooms, a basement, an attic, and - the deal breaker for Dean - a full garage. They decide to go celebrate at a nearby bar and Dean reels as he realizes he'll actually have to consider the impression he's making here because he might be seeing these people again. One of them might be his future boss, his next door neighbor.
God, he had neighbors now.
"Three of whatever's on tap," Dean says, leaning against the bar. Cas is perched on the stool next to him. Dean can feel his body heat along his side.
The bartender, a woman past her prime but still pretty easy on the eyes, gives him a flirty smile that he can't help return.
An hour later and Dean's feeling pleasantly buzzed, laughing too loudly at something Castiel just said. The ex-angel is extraordinarily expressive, Dean realizes as he smiles, laughing along with Dean.
"You lovebirds ready for another refill?" the bartender asks and that's when Dean realizes not only has Sam ditched them, but he and Cas are very much within each other's personal bubbles.
Dean jerks back and enough is enough.
"I don't know why people keep assuming we're a couple, but I wish to hell that it would stop!" he exclaims. The bartender looks taken aback, but not too offended, so Dean doesn't feel like too big a dick for continuing. "We're not a couple, we've never been a couple, we don't ever want to be a couple."
"Speak for yourself."
And that wasn't exactly the response he'd been expecting.
"Excuse me?" he says, turning back to Cas, who is scowling at him pretty powerfully.
"I said that you should speak for yourself," Cas repeats. "I hate when you decide things like that for me. You've never had romantic feelings for me, fine, but don't assume it's the same for me without even asking."
"But…" Dean stares at the other man for a moment. He doesn't really understand what's happening. "You haven't, have you?"
"Yes, Dean, I have," Castiel says simply, still looking faintly annoyed. There is no trace of humor on his face.
"But- what?"
"Oh, I swear." Cas sighs, slouching forward more towards Dean. "If you were anymore oblivious to the things right in front of you, I would insist on you never driving."
"You have feelings for me?" Dean asks, still not sure he gets it.
"I have many feelings for you, Dean," Cas replies. Despite the words, it doesn't sound like necessarily a good thing. "Very, very many. Occasionally, they are of the more personal persuasion. So, please, refrain from deciding my feelings for me in the future."
Castiel turns back to his beer, apologizes to the bartender, and proceeds to pick up the topic they'd been talking about before, as if he hadn't just redefined the tilt of the world's axis.
"So, wait," he interrupts, "do you- do you want-"
He pauses, not sure how to finish that question.
Cas sighs again, his eyes softening.
"I don't want anything from you, Dean," he says, voice gentle. "I've never asked anything from you and I'm not going to. These things are difficult for you and I respect that. Please don't feel obligat-"
"I don't," Dean interrupts again. "I- This is just really sudden." A thought occurs to him. "Does Sam know?"
Castiel nods.
"He agreed with my decision to not tell you. Sam thought you might not be receptive to the idea."
Not receptive? Dean feels himself scowl, though he's not sure why. Cas peers at him for a moment before asking, "Are you, Dean?"
"I don’t know," Dean admits. "I've never seriously thought about it before."
Cas nods again.
"We should we talk about this more when we're both more sober," he suggests and Dean can't help but agree.
They end up leaving the bar and going back home - home, god, that still feels weird to think. Dean assures Cas that Sam will find his own way home, wherever he is, and yes, Dean can drive when just a little tipsy.
Dean decides maybe they should talk now, but he's been thinking about it the entire way back from the bar and before he knows what's happening, he's kissing Castiel.
Castiel, who is, apparently, very responsive.
When Sam stumbles in an hour later, Cas has pushed Dean onto his back and they're lying together on the couch, exchanging lazy kisses.
"Oh my god, guys, get a room already," Sam slurs, walking through the living room and into the kitchen.
Dean jerks back, surprised and a little embarrassed, but Cas just huffs out a laugh, resting his forehead against Dean's collarbone. There's a crash from the kitchen and then Sam's back in the living room, staring at them with wide eyes.
"When'd this happen?" he demands.
"Well, it was happening up until you walked in," Cas shoots back. He pushes himself up to properly look at Sam, who breaks into a grin.
"Go you, huh?" he says. "Didn't know you had it in you, Cas. Did Dean finally catch a clue or did you have to beat him over the head a little?"
"Very funny, Dean's an idiot," Dean grouses, shoving Cas off him so he can sit up too. "Now, you going to give us some privacy or am I going to have to embarrass you?"
"I'll leave you guys be tonight, because, quite frankly, I think I'm drunk," Sam says and Dean can't help but grin at his brother. "But if you two are starting something, we're going to need to abide by the 'get a room' rule. I've been scarred enough by you, Dean, don't need to be traumatized in my own, brand new home."
With that, he leaves them alone. Cas turns to Dean and leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Dean's lips.
"I forget where we are in the cycle," he says. "It's Sam's turn to sleep alone, right?"