Twitfic and Chatfic 2/2
And more twitfic and chatfic from the past several weeks.
Bus Series (Dean/Castiel, Sam, PG-13)
Directions
Castiel looked at the map. "Which route will take me to the library?" he asked.
Sam leaned over and pointed to the orange line. "That one."
Destination
The bus is empty except for Cas and the bus driver. Green eyes look at him through the rear-view window. "Where you headed, then?"
"The library," Castiel tells him.
The bus driver nods. "Sounds good."
Routine
After that first day, the trips to the library become routine and he gets to know the bus driver rather well. They talk of their lives and Castiel learns that the bus driver's name is Dean, that he's the brother of Sam--the man who had helped him figure out which bus to take to the library--and that Dean also works part time at a garage.
In return, he tells Dean about his many siblings, how he'd majoring in physics and theology and his desire to be a college professor. He looks forward to the time spent on the bus.
Accident
A couple of months into their casual friendship, Dean is not driving the bus when Castiel gets on. Nor is he there the next day.
On the third day, Castiel finally asks the new driver where Dean had gone. The bus driver looks at him. "He was in an accident," she says.
Castiel feels his heart plummet.
In The Hospital
Sam has taken personal leave, so Castiel spends a couple of days worrying and trying to find which hospital Dean had been taken to. It's nearly a week after the fact that he finds Dean. During visitor hours, he goes up to the room and knocks.
Sam opens the door and looks at him blankly. "Who are you?" he asks and Castiel shouldn't have expected Sam to remember him, but it stings nonetheless.
"I am a friend of Dean's," he says. Sam considers him for a moment, then steps aside. Dean's lying on the bed, asleep. Castiel looks at him for a long moment before looking back to Sam. "What happened?"
Sam sighs and sinks into the chair next to the bed. "Drunk driver," he says. "Ran a red light. Dean's car was totaled and he's got a pierced lung, a broken leg, collarbone and ribs, as well as a concussion. The other guy is fine."
Castiel nods. He stays for twenty minutes, then leaves.
Companionable
When he comes back the next day, Sam lets him in the room without comment. They spend the time in silence, each with their own thoughts.
Awake
Dean is awake when Castiel visits for the fifth time. Sam greets him at the door, as usual, but this time, Dean's voice calls out a loud "Who is it, Sammy?"
Sam smiles. "Castiel," he says, moving aside to let Castiel in.
"Cas!" Dean says, grinning. "Good to see you. How's the paper doing?"
Castiel had been working on a term paper at the time of the accident. "Got an A," he says, smiling back. "Good to see you awake."
Dean nods carefully. "Yup. Had a nice nap, though. Feel much better."
Castiel feels better than he has in almost two weeks. His smile grows. "I'm sure."
The Car
It's another month before Dean is allowed out of the hospital, but Castiel continues to visit every day, striking up a friendship with Sam when Dean is asleep during his visits. There is continued improvement on all of Dean's injuries, though and the doctors expect him to make a full recovery.
Dean's not too worried about himself, though. Once he wakes up, nearly every other sentence out of his mouth is about his car, the one that was wrecked in the accident. According to Dean, it was a '67 Chevy Impala, black and sleek and the love of his life. According to Sam, it was an obsession and a visible symptom of an obviously deranged mind.
It's fate weighs heavily on Dean's mind, but Sam is exceptionally good at steering his brother's attentions elsewhere. Nothing conclusive is said until Dean gets out of the hospital.
Then that both Dean and Castiel find out that Sam had paid to have the classic car rebuilt and restored and Castiel is there when Sam shows it to Dean, earning himself a rare display of affection as Dean grabs his brother in a tight embrace.
Dean spends a good three hours just looking the car over while Sam and Castiel eat cookies and watch.
Intervention
Castiel's classes end before Dean is able to return to being a bus driver and even though he no longer really needs to go to the library, he continues to ride the bus and talk to Dean. Two weeks after that, though, he gets a call from Sam. "Dean likes you," the other man says abruptly. Castiel blinks at his cell. "What?" "Dean likes you. As in, he's attracted to you." He feels his face heat up and he stammers. "Oh, no, no I'm sure you've got it--" "I'm not wrong, Cas," Sam says. "Dean. Likes. You. But he's too dense and won't ask you out on his own, so you'll have to do it, if you're interested." Castiel is quiet for a long moment. "Cas?" "Yes, Sam, I'm here. Dean...likes me?" He hears Sam huff over the connection and can picture the eyeroll that probably accompanies it. "Yes, Cas. Dean likes you. Ask him out." Castiel tales a deep breath. "Okay. Thank you." He hangs up the phone and starts to think.
Confirmation
Two days later, he knows Dean has a day off and he arrives at his house, which isn't unusual after the last few months. When Sam sees him, though, he grins and Castiel blushes.
"Dean!" Sam calls. "Cas is here!"
Dean comes out of the kitchen, still limping a bit, but grinning. "Cas! Hey!" Castiel smiles back.
Sam looks at them. "Well, then. I'm going to...go to the store. Yeah. Be back later."
Dean waves him off and tugs Castiel into the living room. "Hey, I got a new game. You should play it with me."
Castiel makes sure Sam is gone, then pulls Dean to a halt. "No, Dean. I didn't come here to play a game." Dean blinks.
"Then what?"
Fiddling absently with the hem of his shirt, Castiel looks away from Dean's face. "Ilikeyou," he blurts. Dean blinks again.
"What? You...like me?" Castiel nods, face burning. Dean grins and pulls Castiel closer. "You like me. You like me." And Castiel's too flustered to do anything when Dean's lips brush over his own, but Dean just grins at him.
"I like you, too," he says before leaning in again and kissing Castiel properly.
---
Pen Pal (Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, PG)
Part 1
Sam thinks Dean's got an unhealthy obsession. Dean thinks Sam shouldn't talk, considering the number of hours the younger Winchester spends with his books. However, neither change the fact that Dean spends almost all of his time on the computer and compulsively checks his email every five minutes, while Sam wanders by every half hour or so and recites some variation of how pathetic the whole thing is.
This has been the norm for the past six months or so, ever since Dean had come across some guy in a chatroom and became electronic penpals with him. In that time, the guy had gone from an interesting acquaintance to something Dean never shut up about. A good three quarters of the brothers' time together was filled with chatter on how Cas had spent his day and what drama was happening in the man's large family this week. Sam probably had the entire family and circle of friends--people he'd never met, mind--memorized and often forgot that his own friends didn't know who Michael was when he started to talk about something funny that had happened to Cas' older brother.
As for his own older brother, Sam would be worried about the amount of time and effort Dean put into this quasi-friendship, except for the genuine sense of happiness Dean got when he talked about or to Cas. It wasn't something Sam was too used to seeing with Dean and he couldn't quite bring himself to seriously think about putting a stop to it. So, life went on and things would have very well continued like that if it hadn't been for Cas confiding something in Dean about seven and a half months in.
Sam came home from school that day to find Dean sitting on the couch, staring at the balck screen of the TV. "Dean?" he asked, dropping his bag by the door to sit down next to his brother. "What's up?" Dean didn't move or say anything for a long moment and just as Sam got ready to repeat himself, he sighed.
"Cas is gay," he said. Sam blinked.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Is there something wrong with that?"
Dean frowned. "No, not like that. It's just...he's a great guy, you know? Nice, polite, always knows just what to say..." he trailed off and it was Sam's turn to frown.
"You don't know that for sure," he started, but Dean shook his head. "No, I do. We've talked."
"Like, on the phone?" Sam hadn't been aware of that development. Dean nodded.
"Yeah Just a couple of times, but he's just like he is in writing, but with this deep, growly voice that..." Sam thought about that for a moment as Dean stared off into space again.
Then he frowned and glanced at his older brother. "Dean? Do you...do you like him?"
"Yeah, of course I like him. I wouldn't be friends with him if I didn't. Sam shook his head. "No, I mean, do you like him?" he asked with added emphasis.
Dean blinked at him. "Oh. Uh...Maybe? Kind of?" He sighed and propped his chin on one hand, elbow planted in his knee. "I don't know."
This was like talking to a kid with his first crush, Sam thought, rolling his eyes. "You do talk about him all the time," he pointed out. "It's been seven months and you haven't gotten bored with him, like you did with Jake. You know practically everything about him. You like him as a friend, you apparently really like his voice..." Dean scowled at him, his face pinkening.
"Shut up. Alright. So I like him," he said, sarcasm coloring his tone. "Doesn't mean anything."
Leaning back, Sam closed his eyes. "Seven months, dude. That's way past the two-week point."
There was silence for a moment, then Dean sighed. "Well, damn."
(*~*~* )
Gabriel backtracked and pushed the office door open. Grinning, he sauntered into the room and leaned over his little brother's shoulder. "Emailing your internet boyfriend, again?"
Castiel scowled at him and minimized the window. "He's not my boyfriend," he said. Gabriel just leered at him.
"But you wish he was," he teased. The younger man sighed and Gabriel blinked. "Seriously? Shit, Cas..." Castiel nodded.
"I know. I've never met him and I've only known him for eight months, but..."
"You've got it bad, bro," Gabriel said, uncharacteristically gentle. "I'd say go for it, but he lives where? Kansas? Not exactly close to Oregon, kiddo."
"I know," Castiel said again. "I'll just..." he waved at the computer screen.
Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, he hasn't run screaming yet, so maybe you've got a chance. Good luck, Cas." He slipped back out of the room, leaving Castiel to finish his email, and paused, thinking.
How much would to cost to fly out to Kansas, anyway? Gabriel smirked.
Dean wouldn't know what hit him.
Part Two (Four months later)
Sam refused to tell Dean where they were going when he picked him up from work and the elder Winchester quickly fell into a sulk. He'd been looking forward to getting home and chatting with Cas again and now his little brother was hauling him across town without even telling him where they were going.
It had better be damn amazing, he grumbled to himself, or Sammy was going to get his ass kicked to high heaven.
When they got on the freeway, though and then took the exit to the airport, he was curious despite himself. Why were they going to the airport? Once they'd parked, Sam all but dragged Dean to where the passengers would emerge. A plane had been coming in when they'd parked and the passengers came out only ten or fifteen minutes after they arrived at the gate.
One of them waved and Sam waved back. Dean scowled as the man and his companion headed for them. "Sam!" the man said as soon as they were within hearing distance. "Dear God, but you're gigantic."
Sam rolled his eyes and grinned. "Hey, Gabe," he said easily. Dean blinked. Gabe? As in Gabriel...?
"Dean," Gabe's companion said and Dean took another look because that voice...
"Cas?"
The man smiled, small and slow, but somehow managing to light up his whole face and Dean's mouth went dry. He was vaguely aware of Sam tugging Gabriel away and spared a thought to wonder how long they'd been sneaking around behind their respective brother's backs to arrange this, but then Cas stepped closer and Dean forgot about anything else. Bright blue eyes stared intensely at him and he fidgeted slightly.
"It's...good to actually see you, Cas."
"Indeed," the other man said.
Gabriel's face appeared over Castiel's shoulder and pushed his brother into Dean, forcing him to catch Cas or let him fall. "Oh, just kiss and be disgusting, already."
Cas blushed, Dean stammered and Sam rolled his eyes and dragged a leering Gabriel away again. Dean looked down at the man in his arms. "Do you...?"
Cas huffed. "I had not wanted to tell you like this, but...yes, I--" Dean's mouth covered his, effectively stopping any futher words. When they separated a few minutes later, Dean was grinning and Castiel couldn't help but smile back.
"So," Dean said casually. "I thought I should let you know, but I kinda really like you. A lot." Casstiel's smile twitched into a grin.
"I like you a lot, too, Dean."
"Good," Dean said. "Let's go make sure Gabriel's not corrupting Sammy." He grabbed Castiel's hand and set off after their brothers.
Castiel laughed. "I'm afraid you're about four months too late for that," he told Dean, who grumbled.
"Well, let's make sure they haven't decided to like each other a lot, too, then."
"Very well, Dean."
(As it turned out, they were too late for that, too.)
---
The Secret Spy AU (Dean/Castiel, PG-13)
Dean is left waiting in the room for hours. How long exactly, he doesn't know, since there's no clock and they took his watch. He's still wearing his suit, though, shirt half untucked and tie skewed. Dean thinks it makes him look debauched and he's always enjoyed looking like that.
When the interrogator finally comes in, he's moved from trying to count minutes to trying to count the holes in the ceiling. The door opens and closes and he looks down at the man, already grinning. His expression turns much more appreciative when he actually sees the man, though.
"Well, now. They run out of army recruits and go straight to the modeling agencies when they got you?"
The man scowls at him and sets a briefcase on the small table, just out of reach of Dean's handcuffed hands. "No," the man says. "But we are here to talk about you, Mr. Morrison, not I."
Dean shrugs, amused both by the guy's manner and by the fact that this agency must not be very good, if they still think his name is Jim Morrison. Oh, well. He can use their ignorance against them, if need be. He grins, wide and loose and shrugs. "I'm always happy to talk about myself. What would you like to know? I'll inform you now that whatever intel you have lies. My dick is bigger than that."
The man blinks, but otherwise doesn't react. Tough crowd, much?
"That aside, Mr. Morrison, you have been caught commiting the act of espionage against this nation and that is taken as a hostile act, perhaps one that may precipitate war. I am here to ask you about your reasons for doing so, who sent you, what your goals were and how you planned to achieve them. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Dean drawled. "I came here to see if you guys were plotting against, us. I honestly don't know who's behind my mission; they paid handsomly, though. As for the rest, well, I was mostly planning on blending in and keeping my ears perked for anything of interest. I like my job, I'm good at it and it pays the bills, which is why I'm here and not some other dork with a James Bond complex. Can I ask you a question?" The man blinks and stops taking notes.
"I suppose. I may not answer, though."
"No problem. I was just curious. Are there cameras in this room? Microphones? Tech of any kind?" The man raises an eyebrow.
"No, there is not. We've had...difficulties with that before and we find it easier to not have them present." Dean nodded. He'd thought as much.
"Alright. Then, I just wanted to tell you that you really should check in with whoever makes your handcuffs. these things are total crap." And before the man can react to those words, Dean's up and over the table, his hands--freed about twenty minutes after he'd been tossed into the room to cool his heels--coming up to pin the man's arms to his sides. Dean uses his body to keep the man pinned and grins down into shocked blue eyes. "Really. You're getting ripped off, here. Now, I've got a few questions for you. First, what's your name?"
The man blinks and Dean presses against him harder, trying not to react to the close proximity to what feels like a very built body. "Milton," the man grinds out and Dean hadn't really noticed how low and gravely the man's voice was. "Castiel Milton."
"Well, Cas," Dean said breezily, "I'm sorry this was how our first meeting had to go, since you seem like a nice enough guy. Under different circumstances...well. No use in talking about what-ifs. Back to business. For your information, my name is not Jim Morrison. It's Dean Winchester. Good luck finding me. Second question. Where is this building located?" Milton seems bemused under him and Dean raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"Do you expect me to talk, Mr. Winchester?"
Dean rolls his eyes. "No, Mr. Milton, I expect you to suck my dick," he says, sarcasm thick in his tone.
"...If that will persuade you to let me go earlier," Milton says, squirming slightly. Dean gapes.
"Wait, what?"
"You said you want me to suck your dick. I am willing to do so if you will let me out of this uncomfortable position." Dean shook his head and tried again.
"No, I got that. You thought I was serious? Oh, my God. Who the hell are you?"
Milton sighs. "I am Castiel Milton," he says again. "I'm your ticket out of here and I would appreciate it if you would get off of my left arm. It is starting to fall asleep."
Dean took a moment to process that, then sighed and dropped his head down against Milton's shoulder. "You're from Kripke?" Milton huffs against Dean's hair, amused.
"Yes. I am."
"God. I'm such an idiot."
"Perhaps," Milton agrees. "But you are also heavy. Would you please get off?"
Dean scrambles off of the man, holding out a hand to help him up. "Uh, sorry about that. I thought you were actually, y'know."
Milton brushes himself off. "I know," he says, a small smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "Shall we commence with the escape?" Dean sighs and straightens his tie.
"Yeah, let's do it."
Just as Dean's about to open the door, though, Milton says, "The offer still stands, Mr. Winchester."
Dean gapes after the other man as Milton glides out into the hall. Well, damn. This was going to be an interesting escape.
Bus Series (Dean/Castiel, Sam, PG-13)
Directions
Castiel looked at the map. "Which route will take me to the library?" he asked.
Sam leaned over and pointed to the orange line. "That one."
Destination
The bus is empty except for Cas and the bus driver. Green eyes look at him through the rear-view window. "Where you headed, then?"
"The library," Castiel tells him.
The bus driver nods. "Sounds good."
Routine
After that first day, the trips to the library become routine and he gets to know the bus driver rather well. They talk of their lives and Castiel learns that the bus driver's name is Dean, that he's the brother of Sam--the man who had helped him figure out which bus to take to the library--and that Dean also works part time at a garage.
In return, he tells Dean about his many siblings, how he'd majoring in physics and theology and his desire to be a college professor. He looks forward to the time spent on the bus.
Accident
A couple of months into their casual friendship, Dean is not driving the bus when Castiel gets on. Nor is he there the next day.
On the third day, Castiel finally asks the new driver where Dean had gone. The bus driver looks at him. "He was in an accident," she says.
Castiel feels his heart plummet.
In The Hospital
Sam has taken personal leave, so Castiel spends a couple of days worrying and trying to find which hospital Dean had been taken to. It's nearly a week after the fact that he finds Dean. During visitor hours, he goes up to the room and knocks.
Sam opens the door and looks at him blankly. "Who are you?" he asks and Castiel shouldn't have expected Sam to remember him, but it stings nonetheless.
"I am a friend of Dean's," he says. Sam considers him for a moment, then steps aside. Dean's lying on the bed, asleep. Castiel looks at him for a long moment before looking back to Sam. "What happened?"
Sam sighs and sinks into the chair next to the bed. "Drunk driver," he says. "Ran a red light. Dean's car was totaled and he's got a pierced lung, a broken leg, collarbone and ribs, as well as a concussion. The other guy is fine."
Castiel nods. He stays for twenty minutes, then leaves.
Companionable
When he comes back the next day, Sam lets him in the room without comment. They spend the time in silence, each with their own thoughts.
Awake
Dean is awake when Castiel visits for the fifth time. Sam greets him at the door, as usual, but this time, Dean's voice calls out a loud "Who is it, Sammy?"
Sam smiles. "Castiel," he says, moving aside to let Castiel in.
"Cas!" Dean says, grinning. "Good to see you. How's the paper doing?"
Castiel had been working on a term paper at the time of the accident. "Got an A," he says, smiling back. "Good to see you awake."
Dean nods carefully. "Yup. Had a nice nap, though. Feel much better."
Castiel feels better than he has in almost two weeks. His smile grows. "I'm sure."
The Car
It's another month before Dean is allowed out of the hospital, but Castiel continues to visit every day, striking up a friendship with Sam when Dean is asleep during his visits. There is continued improvement on all of Dean's injuries, though and the doctors expect him to make a full recovery.
Dean's not too worried about himself, though. Once he wakes up, nearly every other sentence out of his mouth is about his car, the one that was wrecked in the accident. According to Dean, it was a '67 Chevy Impala, black and sleek and the love of his life. According to Sam, it was an obsession and a visible symptom of an obviously deranged mind.
It's fate weighs heavily on Dean's mind, but Sam is exceptionally good at steering his brother's attentions elsewhere. Nothing conclusive is said until Dean gets out of the hospital.
Then that both Dean and Castiel find out that Sam had paid to have the classic car rebuilt and restored and Castiel is there when Sam shows it to Dean, earning himself a rare display of affection as Dean grabs his brother in a tight embrace.
Dean spends a good three hours just looking the car over while Sam and Castiel eat cookies and watch.
Intervention
Castiel's classes end before Dean is able to return to being a bus driver and even though he no longer really needs to go to the library, he continues to ride the bus and talk to Dean. Two weeks after that, though, he gets a call from Sam. "Dean likes you," the other man says abruptly. Castiel blinks at his cell. "What?" "Dean likes you. As in, he's attracted to you." He feels his face heat up and he stammers. "Oh, no, no I'm sure you've got it--" "I'm not wrong, Cas," Sam says. "Dean. Likes. You. But he's too dense and won't ask you out on his own, so you'll have to do it, if you're interested." Castiel is quiet for a long moment. "Cas?" "Yes, Sam, I'm here. Dean...likes me?" He hears Sam huff over the connection and can picture the eyeroll that probably accompanies it. "Yes, Cas. Dean likes you. Ask him out." Castiel tales a deep breath. "Okay. Thank you." He hangs up the phone and starts to think.
Confirmation
Two days later, he knows Dean has a day off and he arrives at his house, which isn't unusual after the last few months. When Sam sees him, though, he grins and Castiel blushes.
"Dean!" Sam calls. "Cas is here!"
Dean comes out of the kitchen, still limping a bit, but grinning. "Cas! Hey!" Castiel smiles back.
Sam looks at them. "Well, then. I'm going to...go to the store. Yeah. Be back later."
Dean waves him off and tugs Castiel into the living room. "Hey, I got a new game. You should play it with me."
Castiel makes sure Sam is gone, then pulls Dean to a halt. "No, Dean. I didn't come here to play a game." Dean blinks.
"Then what?"
Fiddling absently with the hem of his shirt, Castiel looks away from Dean's face. "Ilikeyou," he blurts. Dean blinks again.
"What? You...like me?" Castiel nods, face burning. Dean grins and pulls Castiel closer. "You like me. You like me." And Castiel's too flustered to do anything when Dean's lips brush over his own, but Dean just grins at him.
"I like you, too," he says before leaning in again and kissing Castiel properly.
---
Pen Pal (Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, PG)
Part 1
Sam thinks Dean's got an unhealthy obsession. Dean thinks Sam shouldn't talk, considering the number of hours the younger Winchester spends with his books. However, neither change the fact that Dean spends almost all of his time on the computer and compulsively checks his email every five minutes, while Sam wanders by every half hour or so and recites some variation of how pathetic the whole thing is.
This has been the norm for the past six months or so, ever since Dean had come across some guy in a chatroom and became electronic penpals with him. In that time, the guy had gone from an interesting acquaintance to something Dean never shut up about. A good three quarters of the brothers' time together was filled with chatter on how Cas had spent his day and what drama was happening in the man's large family this week. Sam probably had the entire family and circle of friends--people he'd never met, mind--memorized and often forgot that his own friends didn't know who Michael was when he started to talk about something funny that had happened to Cas' older brother.
As for his own older brother, Sam would be worried about the amount of time and effort Dean put into this quasi-friendship, except for the genuine sense of happiness Dean got when he talked about or to Cas. It wasn't something Sam was too used to seeing with Dean and he couldn't quite bring himself to seriously think about putting a stop to it. So, life went on and things would have very well continued like that if it hadn't been for Cas confiding something in Dean about seven and a half months in.
Sam came home from school that day to find Dean sitting on the couch, staring at the balck screen of the TV. "Dean?" he asked, dropping his bag by the door to sit down next to his brother. "What's up?" Dean didn't move or say anything for a long moment and just as Sam got ready to repeat himself, he sighed.
"Cas is gay," he said. Sam blinked.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Is there something wrong with that?"
Dean frowned. "No, not like that. It's just...he's a great guy, you know? Nice, polite, always knows just what to say..." he trailed off and it was Sam's turn to frown.
"You don't know that for sure," he started, but Dean shook his head. "No, I do. We've talked."
"Like, on the phone?" Sam hadn't been aware of that development. Dean nodded.
"Yeah Just a couple of times, but he's just like he is in writing, but with this deep, growly voice that..." Sam thought about that for a moment as Dean stared off into space again.
Then he frowned and glanced at his older brother. "Dean? Do you...do you like him?"
"Yeah, of course I like him. I wouldn't be friends with him if I didn't. Sam shook his head. "No, I mean, do you like him?" he asked with added emphasis.
Dean blinked at him. "Oh. Uh...Maybe? Kind of?" He sighed and propped his chin on one hand, elbow planted in his knee. "I don't know."
This was like talking to a kid with his first crush, Sam thought, rolling his eyes. "You do talk about him all the time," he pointed out. "It's been seven months and you haven't gotten bored with him, like you did with Jake. You know practically everything about him. You like him as a friend, you apparently really like his voice..." Dean scowled at him, his face pinkening.
"Shut up. Alright. So I like him," he said, sarcasm coloring his tone. "Doesn't mean anything."
Leaning back, Sam closed his eyes. "Seven months, dude. That's way past the two-week point."
There was silence for a moment, then Dean sighed. "Well, damn."
(*~*~* )
Gabriel backtracked and pushed the office door open. Grinning, he sauntered into the room and leaned over his little brother's shoulder. "Emailing your internet boyfriend, again?"
Castiel scowled at him and minimized the window. "He's not my boyfriend," he said. Gabriel just leered at him.
"But you wish he was," he teased. The younger man sighed and Gabriel blinked. "Seriously? Shit, Cas..." Castiel nodded.
"I know. I've never met him and I've only known him for eight months, but..."
"You've got it bad, bro," Gabriel said, uncharacteristically gentle. "I'd say go for it, but he lives where? Kansas? Not exactly close to Oregon, kiddo."
"I know," Castiel said again. "I'll just..." he waved at the computer screen.
Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, he hasn't run screaming yet, so maybe you've got a chance. Good luck, Cas." He slipped back out of the room, leaving Castiel to finish his email, and paused, thinking.
How much would to cost to fly out to Kansas, anyway? Gabriel smirked.
Dean wouldn't know what hit him.
Part Two (Four months later)
Sam refused to tell Dean where they were going when he picked him up from work and the elder Winchester quickly fell into a sulk. He'd been looking forward to getting home and chatting with Cas again and now his little brother was hauling him across town without even telling him where they were going.
It had better be damn amazing, he grumbled to himself, or Sammy was going to get his ass kicked to high heaven.
When they got on the freeway, though and then took the exit to the airport, he was curious despite himself. Why were they going to the airport? Once they'd parked, Sam all but dragged Dean to where the passengers would emerge. A plane had been coming in when they'd parked and the passengers came out only ten or fifteen minutes after they arrived at the gate.
One of them waved and Sam waved back. Dean scowled as the man and his companion headed for them. "Sam!" the man said as soon as they were within hearing distance. "Dear God, but you're gigantic."
Sam rolled his eyes and grinned. "Hey, Gabe," he said easily. Dean blinked. Gabe? As in Gabriel...?
"Dean," Gabe's companion said and Dean took another look because that voice...
"Cas?"
The man smiled, small and slow, but somehow managing to light up his whole face and Dean's mouth went dry. He was vaguely aware of Sam tugging Gabriel away and spared a thought to wonder how long they'd been sneaking around behind their respective brother's backs to arrange this, but then Cas stepped closer and Dean forgot about anything else. Bright blue eyes stared intensely at him and he fidgeted slightly.
"It's...good to actually see you, Cas."
"Indeed," the other man said.
Gabriel's face appeared over Castiel's shoulder and pushed his brother into Dean, forcing him to catch Cas or let him fall. "Oh, just kiss and be disgusting, already."
Cas blushed, Dean stammered and Sam rolled his eyes and dragged a leering Gabriel away again. Dean looked down at the man in his arms. "Do you...?"
Cas huffed. "I had not wanted to tell you like this, but...yes, I--" Dean's mouth covered his, effectively stopping any futher words. When they separated a few minutes later, Dean was grinning and Castiel couldn't help but smile back.
"So," Dean said casually. "I thought I should let you know, but I kinda really like you. A lot." Casstiel's smile twitched into a grin.
"I like you a lot, too, Dean."
"Good," Dean said. "Let's go make sure Gabriel's not corrupting Sammy." He grabbed Castiel's hand and set off after their brothers.
Castiel laughed. "I'm afraid you're about four months too late for that," he told Dean, who grumbled.
"Well, let's make sure they haven't decided to like each other a lot, too, then."
"Very well, Dean."
(As it turned out, they were too late for that, too.)
---
The Secret Spy AU (Dean/Castiel, PG-13)
Dean is left waiting in the room for hours. How long exactly, he doesn't know, since there's no clock and they took his watch. He's still wearing his suit, though, shirt half untucked and tie skewed. Dean thinks it makes him look debauched and he's always enjoyed looking like that.
When the interrogator finally comes in, he's moved from trying to count minutes to trying to count the holes in the ceiling. The door opens and closes and he looks down at the man, already grinning. His expression turns much more appreciative when he actually sees the man, though.
"Well, now. They run out of army recruits and go straight to the modeling agencies when they got you?"
The man scowls at him and sets a briefcase on the small table, just out of reach of Dean's handcuffed hands. "No," the man says. "But we are here to talk about you, Mr. Morrison, not I."
Dean shrugs, amused both by the guy's manner and by the fact that this agency must not be very good, if they still think his name is Jim Morrison. Oh, well. He can use their ignorance against them, if need be. He grins, wide and loose and shrugs. "I'm always happy to talk about myself. What would you like to know? I'll inform you now that whatever intel you have lies. My dick is bigger than that."
The man blinks, but otherwise doesn't react. Tough crowd, much?
"That aside, Mr. Morrison, you have been caught commiting the act of espionage against this nation and that is taken as a hostile act, perhaps one that may precipitate war. I am here to ask you about your reasons for doing so, who sent you, what your goals were and how you planned to achieve them. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Dean drawled. "I came here to see if you guys were plotting against, us. I honestly don't know who's behind my mission; they paid handsomly, though. As for the rest, well, I was mostly planning on blending in and keeping my ears perked for anything of interest. I like my job, I'm good at it and it pays the bills, which is why I'm here and not some other dork with a James Bond complex. Can I ask you a question?" The man blinks and stops taking notes.
"I suppose. I may not answer, though."
"No problem. I was just curious. Are there cameras in this room? Microphones? Tech of any kind?" The man raises an eyebrow.
"No, there is not. We've had...difficulties with that before and we find it easier to not have them present." Dean nodded. He'd thought as much.
"Alright. Then, I just wanted to tell you that you really should check in with whoever makes your handcuffs. these things are total crap." And before the man can react to those words, Dean's up and over the table, his hands--freed about twenty minutes after he'd been tossed into the room to cool his heels--coming up to pin the man's arms to his sides. Dean uses his body to keep the man pinned and grins down into shocked blue eyes. "Really. You're getting ripped off, here. Now, I've got a few questions for you. First, what's your name?"
The man blinks and Dean presses against him harder, trying not to react to the close proximity to what feels like a very built body. "Milton," the man grinds out and Dean hadn't really noticed how low and gravely the man's voice was. "Castiel Milton."
"Well, Cas," Dean said breezily, "I'm sorry this was how our first meeting had to go, since you seem like a nice enough guy. Under different circumstances...well. No use in talking about what-ifs. Back to business. For your information, my name is not Jim Morrison. It's Dean Winchester. Good luck finding me. Second question. Where is this building located?" Milton seems bemused under him and Dean raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"Do you expect me to talk, Mr. Winchester?"
Dean rolls his eyes. "No, Mr. Milton, I expect you to suck my dick," he says, sarcasm thick in his tone.
"...If that will persuade you to let me go earlier," Milton says, squirming slightly. Dean gapes.
"Wait, what?"
"You said you want me to suck your dick. I am willing to do so if you will let me out of this uncomfortable position." Dean shook his head and tried again.
"No, I got that. You thought I was serious? Oh, my God. Who the hell are you?"
Milton sighs. "I am Castiel Milton," he says again. "I'm your ticket out of here and I would appreciate it if you would get off of my left arm. It is starting to fall asleep."
Dean took a moment to process that, then sighed and dropped his head down against Milton's shoulder. "You're from Kripke?" Milton huffs against Dean's hair, amused.
"Yes. I am."
"God. I'm such an idiot."
"Perhaps," Milton agrees. "But you are also heavy. Would you please get off?"
Dean scrambles off of the man, holding out a hand to help him up. "Uh, sorry about that. I thought you were actually, y'know."
Milton brushes himself off. "I know," he says, a small smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "Shall we commence with the escape?" Dean sighs and straightens his tie.
"Yeah, let's do it."
Just as Dean's about to open the door, though, Milton says, "The offer still stands, Mr. Winchester."
Dean gapes after the other man as Milton glides out into the hall. Well, damn. This was going to be an interesting escape.