fic, SPN: that's a pretty fucking good milkshake (Sam/Castiel), PG13
Title: that's a pretty fucking good milkshake
Pairing: Sam/Castiel
Rating: PG13
Words: 3870
Spoilers: S5 up until 5x13.
Warnings: none really except for very wacky case?
Summary: where in order to go on a hunt Sam and Castiel have to pretend to be dating. Strawberry milkshakes are also involved.
A/N: written for mwmm23 at the sassy_otp fanworks exchange; my prompt was Cas and Sam have to pretend to be a couple for some reason. Uhm, it didn't really want to be porn, but I tried to have in at least the UST and the awkwardness. And some Dean. I really hope it fits the bill. Title sort of stolen from a Pulp Fiction quote. *hides*
“… I’m not sure that it’s a good idea,” Sam says as soon as Dean explains him the plan B he came up with after plan A failed without even starting first.
To be entirely sincere, Sam thinks that it’s a colossally bad idea, but he doesn't want to be that blunt. Not when things between him and Dean can change from great to sour in five seconds, lately.
“Well, sorry but I think you’ll have to deal with it,” Dean replies. “Let’s skip on how awkward it would be to pretend I was your boyfriend, but if you haven’t noticed it - ” he stops and coughs for a good minute before letting out a curse and shaking his head. “I said, if you haven’t noticed it, I’m not in any condition to get out of this room while it’s freezing outside.”
Sam can’t exactly ignore Dean’s point here. Clearly it’s just their luck that Dean comes down with the worst cold in history (Sam dreads it could become borderline pneumonia, considering how hard Dean coughs) just when they’re dealing with a seriously wacky case where it needs to be two people investigating. Not counting that said investigation could turn out to be embarrassing to say the least.
Anyone will admit that a vampire feeding only on gay couples (or having decided to feed only on gay couples for the moment) goes in the top five wacky cases one can stumble into. The problem is that they’re in a medium sized town where there’s just one gay friendly place, and in the three weeks it took them to get here after hearing of strange things happening and having a confirm that it was legit, ten people died. Always couples and never one of the pair surviving. Definitely a vampire, they had ruled out any other kind of creature who could possibly suck someone dry. How it is that the place is still open, since five couples died after hanging out there, Sam doesn’t know, but that’s not what concerns him at this point.
So the idea had been to go into the place and well, pretend to be on a date (Sam, to be entirely honest, had thought that they wouldn’t even have had to try hard - half of the clerks at the motels they sleep in mistake him and Dean for boyfriends anyway without them even trying), but then Dean had started coughing like he had TBC and there’s no way he’s getting out of the room anytime soon.
Then Dean had the brilliant idea to call Cas. Hey, he couldn’t go, but Sam and Cas could totally give that a try instead, right?
It’s not like Sam is utterly horrified by the idea. It’s just that, even if after the whole deal when Castiel had risked his life so that Anna couldn’t kill Sam their terms have been much more friendly… pretending to be together is a whole goddamn other thing. Especially because he thinks he can count on one hand the times he has been alone with Castiel in one place. And how the hell would he sell that they were in a relationship when the one who is bffs with Castiel is Dean, anyway?
He knows that there’s not much of a choice here. He and Dean had both agreed that for two people pretending to be a couple would have been way easier to lure the vampire in and kill him without too much of a show. Still, he reports all of his objections to Dean. Dean just shakes his head and tries to speak, then coughs again for another two minutes.
“Sam,” he says then, his voice almost too hoarse to be human, “Cas doesn’t have a fucking concept of what personal space is. That’s more than enough to fake it. And if they think you’re weird, just tell ‘em that it’s your first relationship and suck it up.”
“Who says that Cas would agree anyway?”
“Dude, it’s ten dead people and last time I heard from him, he was still recharging at Bobby’s. He doesn’t have anything better to do in his spare time if that’s -” he starts, and then coughs again. “Fuck,” Dean croaks before letting his head hit the pillow on his motel bed.
“Sam, just stop being a girl about this and say yes or no.”
Point is, Sam knows that he is being a girl about it. As Dean put it, it’s still ten dead people.
“Fine, but you call him,” Sam states, and he hopes it’s definitive enough.
“Bitch,” Dean mutters when reaching for his cellphone, and Sam thinks that at least this is just a normal case and he doesn’t have to think about Lucifer or the Apocalypse or any of the mess that happened in his life since he decided that killing Lilith was an awesome idea. He’ll take wacky cases when he can, if that’s what brings at least a break from the end of the world.
--
Sam doesn’t know if Castiel agrees without making an objection because he’s bored but not completely recharged, because he really cares about the ten dead people or because he can’t refuse Dean anything. Or if it’s the three things altogether. It doesn’t change that as soon as Dean calls Castiel is in the room and asking when they’re going.
Then Dean tells him that he’s not going to a gay club (or on a fake date) wearing a flasher’s coat and please, borrow some of my clothes for fuck’s sake, and when Sam takes out one of his flannels Dean snorts at him and says, please Sam, you have some of the frilliest shirts ever and now you don’t use them? . Trust Dean not to miss the occasion to rub that in his face even if he’s sick.
Which is how he and Castiel find themselves out of the club, in the following state: Sam is wearing his good pair of black jeans with that white embroidered shirt he has (it’s the only frilly shirt he has, thank you so much) and his less used coat, while Castiel is wearing Dean’s ripped jeans, one of Dean’s dark heavy jackets, a blue flannel and a Bad Company shirt under it.
Also, Sam has a bag on his shoulder, inside which there’s a machete and some stakes. Castiel has vials of dead man’s blood in the jacket’s inner pocket.
They look so mismatched that he doesn’t know how the hell are they ever pulling it off.
The fact that Castiel looks pretty hot, in the new attire, doesn’t help at all.
“So, uh, let’s go over that again one last time?” Sam asks, and Castiel looks at him like he’s an idiot because they went over that for at least four times, but he complies.
“This is our first date, I work at your college’s library and we should stand as close as possible. Is that correct?”
“… it is. Okay, let’s do this and let’s hope that our man is around.”
He should be. He kills someone each four days and today is the fourth since the last murder.
So they get inside the place and well, it’s better than Sam had feared. The atmosphere is pretty laid-back, there’s enough light to see where you’re going, there are booths to sit in and some people are dancing in the middle of the room, but since it’s Police and not Britney, at least it’s good music. Also it’s not really that many people, so he figures that dancing isn’t required. Which is good, because he’s bad at it and he doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if they ended up having to try. He nods at Castiel and then stops a waiter.
“Uhm, is there a free table for two?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s dying of embarrassment, and then the waiter looks at him and Castiel, gives him a wink that screams your boyfriend is totally hot and then says sure, there’s that nice table in the back. Sam nods and when he turns to tell Cas, he’s staring at two guys making out at the bar like they’re a very, very interesting scientific experiment.
Sam grabs his arm and drags him towards their table, trying not to seem too harsh.
“You know,” he hisses, “staring at people while they’re making out isn’t exactly polite.”
“My apologies. I found the sight interesting,” Castiel replies, his tone even, and Sam tries not to think about the fact that Castiel’s voice… is pretty sexy, all things considered. Especially when he speaks right into his ear.
Still. That’s not really what he should be thinking right now. Alright, maybe it’s the right occasion to notice it, but it doesn’t change that it took more than a year for him and Castiel to be on friendly terms. He doesn’t need Castiel to regret risking his life to save Sam’s the second he finds out that Sam’s thoughts aren’t being very chaste right this moment.
He forces himself to stop that train of thought and he drags Castiel towards the booth. There are two menus on the table already, and huh, Dean was right about Castiel’s utter lack of knowledge of personal space. He goes to sit right next to Sam and he’s crowding him in two seconds flat. Except that then he doesn’t take his menu.
“Man,” Sam says, “if I order you should, too.”
Castiel just tilts his head and shakes his head.
“Please, choose. I have a reason for not asking something for myself.”
Sam just shrugs and since Dean isn’t here to make fun of him, he asks for a strawberry milkshake. Meanwhile he keeps his eyes open to see if someone behaving suspiciously shows up.
Then he almost gasps when Castiel’s fingers close over his hand that was resting on the table. He turns on his left, but Castiel just shakes his head and leans closer, whispering in his hear.
“If our target is luring that creature into a trap, then he should have a reason to think we are dating, right?”
Sam realizes that yes, Castiel is absolutely right, and so he curls his fingers up and threads them with Castiel’s, and well. Castiel’s hand is smaller than his, but he has long fingers which are also softer than his own, and the palm is warm and smooth against Sam’s. It feels… it feels quite nice. And it’s all absolutely fake, so it’s not like Sam should even think about it. He shouldn’t even think about how he misses having a girlfriend and bringing her out to dates and not knowing there was demon blood in him.
Right, and he’s holding hands with an angel.
At least Castiel doesn’t look that much at unease. He had figured he’d be at least stiff, but he isn’t having a problem with pressing closer against Sam and holding hands and stuff. Hell, Castiel looks like the one with the pants in their whole fake relationship, also considering their get-ups, but Sam will die before telling Dean that. It’d be like admitting that his own wardrobe is girlish.
Anyway.
Sam’s milkshake arrives, and when it does Castiel raises the hand which is not holding Sam’s to stop the waiter from leaving.
“May we have a second straw?” he asks with all the calm in the world.
The waiter legitimately gives Castiel a look which reminds Sam’s of some of Becky’s stares before hurrying to the bar and bringing the straw to their table.
And fuckfuckfuck, Sam barely has the time to think before Castiel takes it and puts it in the milkshake, right next to Sam’s. He takes a small sip, then nods with satisfaction.
“That tastes excellent,” he comments, before closing his lips around the straw again.
Sam leans forward and sips too, trying not to notice the way Cas’s lips curve around the straw, because well, damn, it’s a sight. They’re a bit wet and they’re dark pink, and they don’t look so chapped anymore; when Castiel moves them away from the straw and licks them quickly, Sam can feel blood rushing below his waist.
Which is making him feel all kinds of awkward and weird, because this wasn’t in the program. He doesn’t know how to deal with it.
Hell, he’s sharing a strawberry milkshake with an angel of the Lord and they’re holding hands while doing it, and half of it was Castiel’s doing. He needs to give the angel more credit. He doesn’t look embarrassed at all, or like it bothers him. And to be honest, Sam is glad it’s Castiel here right now, because he doesn’t think he could ever have done something like this with Dean without dying of embarrassment. Or without Dean being able to take it seriously.
Not that it doesn’t feel nice. Castiel’s hand is still soft and warm against his, and Sam hasn’t been out for something that feels nice in ages, and he should just stop being delusional and keep his eyes open. Maybe he should also stop thinking about his personal history of praying and believing in angels, when the only decent one he’s met is falling because of his brother and him. Mostly.
“Sam, on your left,” Castiel says suddenly, and Sam turns on his side to see a guy coming straight towards them. Actually, he’s looking at them and then at the couple in the nearby stall, like he’s choosing with whom he’d rather try to score a threesome. He looks almost hungry as he licks his lips and moves his head from left to right.
Now, if he’s the vampire, which looks quite likely, and he chooses the other couple it won’t be that hard to get him anyway, they could follow, but if he comes to their table it makes everything easier, doesn’t it? And if he comes to Sam and Castiel’s table, then they won’t have to deal with other people on top of having to deal with the vampire. Which would be good, because not knowing you were a vampire target always beats knowing, if you have the chance.
“Is that him?” Sam asks, and Castiel almost snorts.
“I think so. He doesn’t feel human. Sam. Please turn towards me now, would you?”
Sam does and then ohfuckingchristalmightyCastieliskissinghim. It’s lips against lips at first, and huh, those are pretty soft lips now that he notices, but then there’s tongue pressing forward and fuck, since when Dean has reasons to say that Castiel is crap at getting laid? (Yes, he knows about the whole whorehouse deal, thanks.) Castiel kisses like he means it, like there’s absolutely no problem if his tongue has to meet Sam’s and then map his mouth. And Sam can’t help moaning into the kiss as he reciprocates, because while it’s fake and they’re putting on a show, it still feels extremely nice and… just, Castiel tastes clean and like strawberries, which might be fitting considering that he’s an angel, and utterly wrong considering that he’s Castiel who isn’t that kind of angel at all. Still, when they part he’s short of breath and that’s when he hears their guy whistle.
“I wouldn’t know who to envy most, between the two of you,” he says, smooth and confident. “Mind if I sit?”
“Not at all,” Sam says, and takes a better look at their target. Long-ish dark hair, green eyes, pale skin, all dressed in leather. Objectively hot.
“Can we do something for you?” Castiel says then, still holding Sam’s hand and still looking like he’s absolutely comfortable with his surroundings.
“Well, I was wondering if you two were… the exclusive kind.”
Which is when Sam decides that sticking to the story is not going to work, if they want to stake him and cut his head off.
“As long as it’s just once… we might not be,” he says, trying to sound as seductive as possible.
“We have been together a long time,” Castiel adds, obviously playing along.
“Exactly. Why not spicing it up a bit?” Sam keeps on, and Christ Dean would laugh his ass off if he could see them.
Not that he will be detailed, when he tells him how did it go.
“Seems like it’s my lucky evening then. I’m Robert, by the way.”
“Nice name,” Sam replies. “I’m John and he’s James. And by the way, do you know somewhere we could go?”
“I know… a very discreet place nearby,” comes for an answer, and he licks his lips.
Sam shudders and then Castiel moves his hand on Sam’s thigh and Sam tries not to startle. For being socially impaired most times, Castiel isn’t really showing it.
“Then lead the way,” he whispers as he stands up after sort-of-groping Sam one more time, and Sam swallows and follows suit.
The vampire stands up and they follow him outside. Sam glances at Castiel, who gives him a tight nod and then stares at their target’s back. His modus operandi consists in draining people dry in some alley, so Sam doesn’t really expect to be brought to some motel.
If it happens and they got it wrong… well, that’d be embarrassing. He just doesn’t think about it.
--
They don’t end up at some motel. They end up in an alley, exactly as Sam had figured.
He had also figured that it would have been not exactly the easiest job ever.
It goes like this: ‘Robert’ (if it’s even his real name) tries to knock Castiel out (under the assumption that he wasn’t the one wearing the skirt in their fake relationship, not that Sam can blame him for that) in order to go for Sam. Castiel fakes it, but he’s still half an angel and apparently no vampire is knocking him out anytime soon. He falls on his knees to the ground, but as soon as he does he grabs the dead man’s blood vial from his jacket and throws him in the vampire’s face.
It’s a perfect hit.
Therefore, the vampire falls on his knees while scratching at his face, which is when Sam remembers that right, he has a machete in his bag and he’d better use it when he cane.
Cutting a vampire’s head has never been so easy in his entire life, since there’s virtually no fighting back.
His shirt is still covered in blood after he’s done, but it doesn’t change that it’s the easiest vampire-related job in the history of ever.
--
“Man, I think you should tag along more often,” Sam says while Castiel gets back on his feet. “Hunts would be so ridiculously easier.”
“Would they? I think your brother would say boring.”
Sam snorts and figures that yes, Dean would say that indeed.
“Yeah, but I learned to appreciate boring, believe me.”
Then he looks down at his shirt and shakes his head. No amount of bleach will ever manage to clean it off.
“Damn, I liked this shirt,” Sam sighs. “Well, I guess some things must be sacrif -”
He never finishes the sentence because Castiel places a finger on the shirt and it’s pristine again.
“Uh. Wow. Thanks,” Sam blurts out, not having expected it.
“I liked it as well,” Castiel comments.
Sam thinks he heard it very, very wrong.
“What did you say?” he whispers, hoping against hope that he didn’t hear it wrong. Not that he knows what he would do with it, but that’s another whole problem.
“It would have been a pity to ruin it,” Castiel answers, and suddenly he’s very much in Sam’s personal space. Again. “And I think it suits you. Very much.”
The last two words are barely more than a whisper, and then Castiel shrugs and hands Sam the machete he had unceremoniously dropped before. It’s clean, too.
“Very well. We should go back to the motel,” he says, but he really doesn’t sound like he wants to.
Sam doesn’t really think about what the hell he’s saying as he answers. “Why, you had a better idea?”
Castiel raises his head and stares at him, really stares, the I-see-into-your-soul stare, and Sam suddenly has an entire new respect for Dean. How the heck does he have staring contests with Castiel which actually last more than ten seconds? He’s tempted to look down after just five.
And then Castiel is even more in Sam’s personal space, just a few inches between them, and fuck, he might be shorter than him but right now Sam feels very, very small.
“We could say that I didn’t accept to come with you just because of unselfish reasons,” he says, and damn but it doesn’t compute. Sam isn’t sure he can process it.
“It means… you weren’t faking, inside?” he whispers, and his voice is barely audible.
“Is that so difficult to understand that I care about you?” Castiel asks instead, and how the hell did he know that it was what Sam had been really asking?
And alright, Sam’s life is weird. Very weird. He’s currently trying to stop the Apocalypse, he has demon blood which makes him some sort of half-freak, the devil wants to wear his body and among the rest he hunts vampires for a living. And half of the clerks he meets mistake him and his brother for a couple.
Still, kissing an angel of the Lord in a dirty alley with a headless corpse a few feet nearby takes points.
But Castiel’s lips are still soft and his mouth is still as wet and warm, and he still tastes like strawberries, faintly, and his hands are oh-so-gently cupping Sam’s face and if this is how it feels when angels care about you, then Sam figures that it was worth waiting years to experience it.
He breathes slow and deep when they part. And damn, but it takes a look at Castiel’s lips to feel like leaning down and kissing them again. And again.
“You know,” Sam says then, trying to keep his voice steady. “That was a nice place. And we don’t have to be back at the motel now. Dean is probably out because of the meds anyway.”
“Are you suggesting that we go back inside?”
“Well, yeah. That was the gist of -”
“Very well, I agree with you.”
And with that, Castiel is gone and leaving the alley. Sam stands there dumbfounded for a second and then he decides that you don’t refuse a good thing when it comes by, and follows suit.
--
“Sharing the milkshake was by far the most enthralling thing,” Castiel comments when Dean asks how it went (after coughing his lungs out for a minute after they come in).
“You did what?” Dean half-screams, and then he looks like he doesn’t know whether he should cough or laugh or both. “Please tell me it was coffee milkshake, at least.”
“No, it was strawberry. Your brother chose it, if it’s…”
“Oh Jesus, why wasn’t I there?” Dean asks before dissolving into a fit of laughing which becomes a fit of coughing halfway.
Right, there goes Sam’s plan of keeping Dean in the dark about the most embarrassing details.
“Y’know what,” Dean says when he has recovered enough to talk, “next time there’s the need, I’m coming and taking pictures. Cold or not.”
“Jerk,” Sam replies, but when he looks at Castiel and gives him a slight nod, Castiel nods back.
Alright, he still doesn’t exactly know where they stand, but he won’t say no if Castiel wants to grab another milkshake without a hunt for an excuse. He’s pretty sure that Castiel knows it already. No need to say it out loud just now.
End.
Pairing: Sam/Castiel
Rating: PG13
Words: 3870
Spoilers: S5 up until 5x13.
Warnings: none really except for very wacky case?
Summary: where in order to go on a hunt Sam and Castiel have to pretend to be dating. Strawberry milkshakes are also involved.
A/N: written for mwmm23 at the sassy_otp fanworks exchange; my prompt was Cas and Sam have to pretend to be a couple for some reason. Uhm, it didn't really want to be porn, but I tried to have in at least the UST and the awkwardness. And some Dean. I really hope it fits the bill. Title sort of stolen from a Pulp Fiction quote. *hides*
“… I’m not sure that it’s a good idea,” Sam says as soon as Dean explains him the plan B he came up with after plan A failed without even starting first.
To be entirely sincere, Sam thinks that it’s a colossally bad idea, but he doesn't want to be that blunt. Not when things between him and Dean can change from great to sour in five seconds, lately.
“Well, sorry but I think you’ll have to deal with it,” Dean replies. “Let’s skip on how awkward it would be to pretend I was your boyfriend, but if you haven’t noticed it - ” he stops and coughs for a good minute before letting out a curse and shaking his head. “I said, if you haven’t noticed it, I’m not in any condition to get out of this room while it’s freezing outside.”
Sam can’t exactly ignore Dean’s point here. Clearly it’s just their luck that Dean comes down with the worst cold in history (Sam dreads it could become borderline pneumonia, considering how hard Dean coughs) just when they’re dealing with a seriously wacky case where it needs to be two people investigating. Not counting that said investigation could turn out to be embarrassing to say the least.
Anyone will admit that a vampire feeding only on gay couples (or having decided to feed only on gay couples for the moment) goes in the top five wacky cases one can stumble into. The problem is that they’re in a medium sized town where there’s just one gay friendly place, and in the three weeks it took them to get here after hearing of strange things happening and having a confirm that it was legit, ten people died. Always couples and never one of the pair surviving. Definitely a vampire, they had ruled out any other kind of creature who could possibly suck someone dry. How it is that the place is still open, since five couples died after hanging out there, Sam doesn’t know, but that’s not what concerns him at this point.
So the idea had been to go into the place and well, pretend to be on a date (Sam, to be entirely honest, had thought that they wouldn’t even have had to try hard - half of the clerks at the motels they sleep in mistake him and Dean for boyfriends anyway without them even trying), but then Dean had started coughing like he had TBC and there’s no way he’s getting out of the room anytime soon.
Then Dean had the brilliant idea to call Cas. Hey, he couldn’t go, but Sam and Cas could totally give that a try instead, right?
It’s not like Sam is utterly horrified by the idea. It’s just that, even if after the whole deal when Castiel had risked his life so that Anna couldn’t kill Sam their terms have been much more friendly… pretending to be together is a whole goddamn other thing. Especially because he thinks he can count on one hand the times he has been alone with Castiel in one place. And how the hell would he sell that they were in a relationship when the one who is bffs with Castiel is Dean, anyway?
He knows that there’s not much of a choice here. He and Dean had both agreed that for two people pretending to be a couple would have been way easier to lure the vampire in and kill him without too much of a show. Still, he reports all of his objections to Dean. Dean just shakes his head and tries to speak, then coughs again for another two minutes.
“Sam,” he says then, his voice almost too hoarse to be human, “Cas doesn’t have a fucking concept of what personal space is. That’s more than enough to fake it. And if they think you’re weird, just tell ‘em that it’s your first relationship and suck it up.”
“Who says that Cas would agree anyway?”
“Dude, it’s ten dead people and last time I heard from him, he was still recharging at Bobby’s. He doesn’t have anything better to do in his spare time if that’s -” he starts, and then coughs again. “Fuck,” Dean croaks before letting his head hit the pillow on his motel bed.
“Sam, just stop being a girl about this and say yes or no.”
Point is, Sam knows that he is being a girl about it. As Dean put it, it’s still ten dead people.
“Fine, but you call him,” Sam states, and he hopes it’s definitive enough.
“Bitch,” Dean mutters when reaching for his cellphone, and Sam thinks that at least this is just a normal case and he doesn’t have to think about Lucifer or the Apocalypse or any of the mess that happened in his life since he decided that killing Lilith was an awesome idea. He’ll take wacky cases when he can, if that’s what brings at least a break from the end of the world.
--
Sam doesn’t know if Castiel agrees without making an objection because he’s bored but not completely recharged, because he really cares about the ten dead people or because he can’t refuse Dean anything. Or if it’s the three things altogether. It doesn’t change that as soon as Dean calls Castiel is in the room and asking when they’re going.
Then Dean tells him that he’s not going to a gay club (or on a fake date) wearing a flasher’s coat and please, borrow some of my clothes for fuck’s sake, and when Sam takes out one of his flannels Dean snorts at him and says, please Sam, you have some of the frilliest shirts ever and now you don’t use them? . Trust Dean not to miss the occasion to rub that in his face even if he’s sick.
Which is how he and Castiel find themselves out of the club, in the following state: Sam is wearing his good pair of black jeans with that white embroidered shirt he has (it’s the only frilly shirt he has, thank you so much) and his less used coat, while Castiel is wearing Dean’s ripped jeans, one of Dean’s dark heavy jackets, a blue flannel and a Bad Company shirt under it.
Also, Sam has a bag on his shoulder, inside which there’s a machete and some stakes. Castiel has vials of dead man’s blood in the jacket’s inner pocket.
They look so mismatched that he doesn’t know how the hell are they ever pulling it off.
The fact that Castiel looks pretty hot, in the new attire, doesn’t help at all.
“So, uh, let’s go over that again one last time?” Sam asks, and Castiel looks at him like he’s an idiot because they went over that for at least four times, but he complies.
“This is our first date, I work at your college’s library and we should stand as close as possible. Is that correct?”
“… it is. Okay, let’s do this and let’s hope that our man is around.”
He should be. He kills someone each four days and today is the fourth since the last murder.
So they get inside the place and well, it’s better than Sam had feared. The atmosphere is pretty laid-back, there’s enough light to see where you’re going, there are booths to sit in and some people are dancing in the middle of the room, but since it’s Police and not Britney, at least it’s good music. Also it’s not really that many people, so he figures that dancing isn’t required. Which is good, because he’s bad at it and he doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if they ended up having to try. He nods at Castiel and then stops a waiter.
“Uhm, is there a free table for two?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s dying of embarrassment, and then the waiter looks at him and Castiel, gives him a wink that screams your boyfriend is totally hot and then says sure, there’s that nice table in the back. Sam nods and when he turns to tell Cas, he’s staring at two guys making out at the bar like they’re a very, very interesting scientific experiment.
Sam grabs his arm and drags him towards their table, trying not to seem too harsh.
“You know,” he hisses, “staring at people while they’re making out isn’t exactly polite.”
“My apologies. I found the sight interesting,” Castiel replies, his tone even, and Sam tries not to think about the fact that Castiel’s voice… is pretty sexy, all things considered. Especially when he speaks right into his ear.
Still. That’s not really what he should be thinking right now. Alright, maybe it’s the right occasion to notice it, but it doesn’t change that it took more than a year for him and Castiel to be on friendly terms. He doesn’t need Castiel to regret risking his life to save Sam’s the second he finds out that Sam’s thoughts aren’t being very chaste right this moment.
He forces himself to stop that train of thought and he drags Castiel towards the booth. There are two menus on the table already, and huh, Dean was right about Castiel’s utter lack of knowledge of personal space. He goes to sit right next to Sam and he’s crowding him in two seconds flat. Except that then he doesn’t take his menu.
“Man,” Sam says, “if I order you should, too.”
Castiel just tilts his head and shakes his head.
“Please, choose. I have a reason for not asking something for myself.”
Sam just shrugs and since Dean isn’t here to make fun of him, he asks for a strawberry milkshake. Meanwhile he keeps his eyes open to see if someone behaving suspiciously shows up.
Then he almost gasps when Castiel’s fingers close over his hand that was resting on the table. He turns on his left, but Castiel just shakes his head and leans closer, whispering in his hear.
“If our target is luring that creature into a trap, then he should have a reason to think we are dating, right?”
Sam realizes that yes, Castiel is absolutely right, and so he curls his fingers up and threads them with Castiel’s, and well. Castiel’s hand is smaller than his, but he has long fingers which are also softer than his own, and the palm is warm and smooth against Sam’s. It feels… it feels quite nice. And it’s all absolutely fake, so it’s not like Sam should even think about it. He shouldn’t even think about how he misses having a girlfriend and bringing her out to dates and not knowing there was demon blood in him.
Right, and he’s holding hands with an angel.
At least Castiel doesn’t look that much at unease. He had figured he’d be at least stiff, but he isn’t having a problem with pressing closer against Sam and holding hands and stuff. Hell, Castiel looks like the one with the pants in their whole fake relationship, also considering their get-ups, but Sam will die before telling Dean that. It’d be like admitting that his own wardrobe is girlish.
Anyway.
Sam’s milkshake arrives, and when it does Castiel raises the hand which is not holding Sam’s to stop the waiter from leaving.
“May we have a second straw?” he asks with all the calm in the world.
The waiter legitimately gives Castiel a look which reminds Sam’s of some of Becky’s stares before hurrying to the bar and bringing the straw to their table.
And fuckfuckfuck, Sam barely has the time to think before Castiel takes it and puts it in the milkshake, right next to Sam’s. He takes a small sip, then nods with satisfaction.
“That tastes excellent,” he comments, before closing his lips around the straw again.
Sam leans forward and sips too, trying not to notice the way Cas’s lips curve around the straw, because well, damn, it’s a sight. They’re a bit wet and they’re dark pink, and they don’t look so chapped anymore; when Castiel moves them away from the straw and licks them quickly, Sam can feel blood rushing below his waist.
Which is making him feel all kinds of awkward and weird, because this wasn’t in the program. He doesn’t know how to deal with it.
Hell, he’s sharing a strawberry milkshake with an angel of the Lord and they’re holding hands while doing it, and half of it was Castiel’s doing. He needs to give the angel more credit. He doesn’t look embarrassed at all, or like it bothers him. And to be honest, Sam is glad it’s Castiel here right now, because he doesn’t think he could ever have done something like this with Dean without dying of embarrassment. Or without Dean being able to take it seriously.
Not that it doesn’t feel nice. Castiel’s hand is still soft and warm against his, and Sam hasn’t been out for something that feels nice in ages, and he should just stop being delusional and keep his eyes open. Maybe he should also stop thinking about his personal history of praying and believing in angels, when the only decent one he’s met is falling because of his brother and him. Mostly.
“Sam, on your left,” Castiel says suddenly, and Sam turns on his side to see a guy coming straight towards them. Actually, he’s looking at them and then at the couple in the nearby stall, like he’s choosing with whom he’d rather try to score a threesome. He looks almost hungry as he licks his lips and moves his head from left to right.
Now, if he’s the vampire, which looks quite likely, and he chooses the other couple it won’t be that hard to get him anyway, they could follow, but if he comes to their table it makes everything easier, doesn’t it? And if he comes to Sam and Castiel’s table, then they won’t have to deal with other people on top of having to deal with the vampire. Which would be good, because not knowing you were a vampire target always beats knowing, if you have the chance.
“Is that him?” Sam asks, and Castiel almost snorts.
“I think so. He doesn’t feel human. Sam. Please turn towards me now, would you?”
Sam does and then ohfuckingchristalmightyCastieliskissinghim. It’s lips against lips at first, and huh, those are pretty soft lips now that he notices, but then there’s tongue pressing forward and fuck, since when Dean has reasons to say that Castiel is crap at getting laid? (Yes, he knows about the whole whorehouse deal, thanks.) Castiel kisses like he means it, like there’s absolutely no problem if his tongue has to meet Sam’s and then map his mouth. And Sam can’t help moaning into the kiss as he reciprocates, because while it’s fake and they’re putting on a show, it still feels extremely nice and… just, Castiel tastes clean and like strawberries, which might be fitting considering that he’s an angel, and utterly wrong considering that he’s Castiel who isn’t that kind of angel at all. Still, when they part he’s short of breath and that’s when he hears their guy whistle.
“I wouldn’t know who to envy most, between the two of you,” he says, smooth and confident. “Mind if I sit?”
“Not at all,” Sam says, and takes a better look at their target. Long-ish dark hair, green eyes, pale skin, all dressed in leather. Objectively hot.
“Can we do something for you?” Castiel says then, still holding Sam’s hand and still looking like he’s absolutely comfortable with his surroundings.
“Well, I was wondering if you two were… the exclusive kind.”
Which is when Sam decides that sticking to the story is not going to work, if they want to stake him and cut his head off.
“As long as it’s just once… we might not be,” he says, trying to sound as seductive as possible.
“We have been together a long time,” Castiel adds, obviously playing along.
“Exactly. Why not spicing it up a bit?” Sam keeps on, and Christ Dean would laugh his ass off if he could see them.
Not that he will be detailed, when he tells him how did it go.
“Seems like it’s my lucky evening then. I’m Robert, by the way.”
“Nice name,” Sam replies. “I’m John and he’s James. And by the way, do you know somewhere we could go?”
“I know… a very discreet place nearby,” comes for an answer, and he licks his lips.
Sam shudders and then Castiel moves his hand on Sam’s thigh and Sam tries not to startle. For being socially impaired most times, Castiel isn’t really showing it.
“Then lead the way,” he whispers as he stands up after sort-of-groping Sam one more time, and Sam swallows and follows suit.
The vampire stands up and they follow him outside. Sam glances at Castiel, who gives him a tight nod and then stares at their target’s back. His modus operandi consists in draining people dry in some alley, so Sam doesn’t really expect to be brought to some motel.
If it happens and they got it wrong… well, that’d be embarrassing. He just doesn’t think about it.
--
They don’t end up at some motel. They end up in an alley, exactly as Sam had figured.
He had also figured that it would have been not exactly the easiest job ever.
It goes like this: ‘Robert’ (if it’s even his real name) tries to knock Castiel out (under the assumption that he wasn’t the one wearing the skirt in their fake relationship, not that Sam can blame him for that) in order to go for Sam. Castiel fakes it, but he’s still half an angel and apparently no vampire is knocking him out anytime soon. He falls on his knees to the ground, but as soon as he does he grabs the dead man’s blood vial from his jacket and throws him in the vampire’s face.
It’s a perfect hit.
Therefore, the vampire falls on his knees while scratching at his face, which is when Sam remembers that right, he has a machete in his bag and he’d better use it when he cane.
Cutting a vampire’s head has never been so easy in his entire life, since there’s virtually no fighting back.
His shirt is still covered in blood after he’s done, but it doesn’t change that it’s the easiest vampire-related job in the history of ever.
--
“Man, I think you should tag along more often,” Sam says while Castiel gets back on his feet. “Hunts would be so ridiculously easier.”
“Would they? I think your brother would say boring.”
Sam snorts and figures that yes, Dean would say that indeed.
“Yeah, but I learned to appreciate boring, believe me.”
Then he looks down at his shirt and shakes his head. No amount of bleach will ever manage to clean it off.
“Damn, I liked this shirt,” Sam sighs. “Well, I guess some things must be sacrif -”
He never finishes the sentence because Castiel places a finger on the shirt and it’s pristine again.
“Uh. Wow. Thanks,” Sam blurts out, not having expected it.
“I liked it as well,” Castiel comments.
Sam thinks he heard it very, very wrong.
“What did you say?” he whispers, hoping against hope that he didn’t hear it wrong. Not that he knows what he would do with it, but that’s another whole problem.
“It would have been a pity to ruin it,” Castiel answers, and suddenly he’s very much in Sam’s personal space. Again. “And I think it suits you. Very much.”
The last two words are barely more than a whisper, and then Castiel shrugs and hands Sam the machete he had unceremoniously dropped before. It’s clean, too.
“Very well. We should go back to the motel,” he says, but he really doesn’t sound like he wants to.
Sam doesn’t really think about what the hell he’s saying as he answers. “Why, you had a better idea?”
Castiel raises his head and stares at him, really stares, the I-see-into-your-soul stare, and Sam suddenly has an entire new respect for Dean. How the heck does he have staring contests with Castiel which actually last more than ten seconds? He’s tempted to look down after just five.
And then Castiel is even more in Sam’s personal space, just a few inches between them, and fuck, he might be shorter than him but right now Sam feels very, very small.
“We could say that I didn’t accept to come with you just because of unselfish reasons,” he says, and damn but it doesn’t compute. Sam isn’t sure he can process it.
“It means… you weren’t faking, inside?” he whispers, and his voice is barely audible.
“Is that so difficult to understand that I care about you?” Castiel asks instead, and how the hell did he know that it was what Sam had been really asking?
And alright, Sam’s life is weird. Very weird. He’s currently trying to stop the Apocalypse, he has demon blood which makes him some sort of half-freak, the devil wants to wear his body and among the rest he hunts vampires for a living. And half of the clerks he meets mistake him and his brother for a couple.
Still, kissing an angel of the Lord in a dirty alley with a headless corpse a few feet nearby takes points.
But Castiel’s lips are still soft and his mouth is still as wet and warm, and he still tastes like strawberries, faintly, and his hands are oh-so-gently cupping Sam’s face and if this is how it feels when angels care about you, then Sam figures that it was worth waiting years to experience it.
He breathes slow and deep when they part. And damn, but it takes a look at Castiel’s lips to feel like leaning down and kissing them again. And again.
“You know,” Sam says then, trying to keep his voice steady. “That was a nice place. And we don’t have to be back at the motel now. Dean is probably out because of the meds anyway.”
“Are you suggesting that we go back inside?”
“Well, yeah. That was the gist of -”
“Very well, I agree with you.”
And with that, Castiel is gone and leaving the alley. Sam stands there dumbfounded for a second and then he decides that you don’t refuse a good thing when it comes by, and follows suit.
--
“Sharing the milkshake was by far the most enthralling thing,” Castiel comments when Dean asks how it went (after coughing his lungs out for a minute after they come in).
“You did what?” Dean half-screams, and then he looks like he doesn’t know whether he should cough or laugh or both. “Please tell me it was coffee milkshake, at least.”
“No, it was strawberry. Your brother chose it, if it’s…”
“Oh Jesus, why wasn’t I there?” Dean asks before dissolving into a fit of laughing which becomes a fit of coughing halfway.
Right, there goes Sam’s plan of keeping Dean in the dark about the most embarrassing details.
“Y’know what,” Dean says when he has recovered enough to talk, “next time there’s the need, I’m coming and taking pictures. Cold or not.”
“Jerk,” Sam replies, but when he looks at Castiel and gives him a slight nod, Castiel nods back.
Alright, he still doesn’t exactly know where they stand, but he won’t say no if Castiel wants to grab another milkshake without a hunt for an excuse. He’s pretty sure that Castiel knows it already. No need to say it out loud just now.
End.