Fic: Two Times Dean Thinks He Told Sam About Castiel and the One Time He Didn't Have To
Title: Two Times Dean Thinks He Told Sam About Castiel and the One Time He Didn’t Have To
Author: bellajayd
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Category: Romance/Humor
Rating: R
Words: 2, 500
Spoilers: Not really, general S4 references.
Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. Just playing in someone else’s sandbox.
Warning: Spoilers for Season 4.
Beta: Many, many thanks to
seraphim_grace for being made of awesome!
Notes: Comments very welcome!
Summary: Cas channels Chuck Norris, Dean decides his butt is angelic catnip, Sam is confused.
One.
Sam is at the other end of the warehouse, which means he is too far away from Dean to do anything other than watch helplessly as some nameless demon swings an honest-to-God axe at his older brother’s unprotected head.
“No!” He takes a step forward, sure he’s about to see Dean die in front of him a second time when Castiel blinks into existence and stops the weapon.
With his head.
“Dude!” Dean is scrambling up from where he had fallen and the demon is just standing there, doing a spot on impression of a goldfish, as the angel calmly removes the offending blade.
From his skull.
“Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel turns his bloodied-but-already-healed-head towards Dean.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he pauses to stand up, “You’re the one who took an axe to the head! Are you ok?” Somewhere beyond the haze of shock that still has him in its grip, Sam notes that Dean sounds agitated.
Heaven’s Warrior lets out a sigh, “You should be more careful, Dean.” Sam wants to laugh, because has Castiel met his brother? “Careful” is not a word in the Official Dean Winchester Dictionary.
“Hey! I had it all under control!” Dean moves closer to the angel, trying to get a better look at his head.
The demon chooses this as an appropriate time to draw notice to herself by shuffling away from the pair. Castiel doesn’t take his attention away from Dean and his fussing as he extends a finger towards the creature.
Sam expects there to be some grand gesture or powerfully spoken word, something Holy and Magnificent before the angel sends the demon back to the Pit.
The creature simply falls.
There is no sound, no black smoke, and certainly no exertion on Castiel’s part.
Just the thump of a body hitting the ground.
Dean barely notices, he’s produced a clean tissue from somewhere and is trying to wipe some of the gore from the uncomplaining angel’s face.
Well, Sam notices and it snaps him out of his daze. His long legs eat the ground and he’s crouching over the girl lying on the floor. He concentrates on the fact that she’s still breathing, that her wrist is broken, that her hair is brown . . . Sam has to concentrate on anything but the idea that Dean almost died, again, or he’ll breakdown right here.
Above his head, Dean is still pestering the angel. He clears his throat, “What did you do to her?”
Sam glances up to see his brother looking at him with wide eyes and the angel has cocked his head. “Um. He killed the demon that was riding her, Sam.” There is a clear ‘you idiot’ tagged on to the end of his statement.
“Where did the demon go?” This time Castiel raises a brow and Dean is looking at his younger brother as if he was nuts.
“Sam. What part of ‘he killed the demon’ didn’t you get?”
“Yeah, but there was no smoke - nothing, she just dropped.” That’s not what it looks like when I exorcise demons.
“There was no smoke to see because I did not command the creature back to the Pit, as you do Sam. I ended its existence. It can no longer crawl from Hell and possess another innocent.”
“You used your angel-fu to kick its skanky demon ass!” Dean sounds dazzled, “You’re the angelic Chuck Norris!!”
Sam’s eyebrows reach his hairline when Castiel actually cracks a smile at the comment. “You are sure that you are unharmed, Dean?”
“Yeah,” Dean says softly, “Just a little bruised. All in a day’s work.”
Castiel stares intently at the older Winchester, “Good.”
The girl at their feet groans and when Sam looks back up the angel has vanished.
“We should call the police and get out of here Dean.”
As they make their way back to the Impala Sam keeps his eyes glued to Dean, still trying to erase the memory of his almost-death.
“You OK, Sammy?” Dean catches his gaze over the top of the car.
“I . . . you almost died again and I couldn’t stop it. I just stood there and - ”
“I’m fine Sammy.” Dean’s voice is brisk and unconcerned.
“You wouldn’t have been. What if there’s no well timed angelic intervention next time? I can’t watch you die again. I can’t let you go to Hell. ” His voice breaks at the end and Dean rounds the Impala to place a warm hand on his shoulder.
“I can’t tell you that I wont die Sammy. We’re fightin’ the Apocalypse, I’d be shocked if we lived through it. But, I can promise you that I’m not going back to Hell. You don’t have to live with that.”
“What?”
“Well, I really don’t think Cas dragged my ass out just to let me get dragged back down when I die.” Dean is looking at him, eyes clear, speaking the truth.
“You really think that? You think Heaven’s got your back after all the times they threatened to throw you away?”
“Aw, Sam. They’ve moved on, now they threaten to toss you down below if they want something from me. I’d be too much of a liability in Hell. I know too much,” Dean is smiling, “Plus, I think Cas would just yank me back out, ass first.”
And he can’t help but smile back at his older brother, his gloomy mood broken for the moment. “Uh-huh. Well, he certainly saved your ass a few minutes ago.”
“Can you blame him? I have such a fine ass; he probably couldn’t bear to let it get damaged.”
“Right. That’s it exactly.”
“No. Really, Sammy, just last night he was telling me how much he loved it!”
“Sure.” He gives Dean a nudge and gets into the Impala.
“I’m telling you, Sam, my ass is irresistible. It’s like angel catnip. Cas can’t get enough.”
Dean gets into the car while looking at him earnestly and Sam is relieved because if his brother is cracking jokes then he’s really OK.
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Two.
After last night’s case, they’d ended up driving until they reached an isolated cabin that belonged to one of Bobby’s friends. The cabin only had the barest of amenities and Dean ended up sacked out on the sofa while Sam had the luxury of sleeping on the rickety cot.
Sam is woken up early the next morning by the smell of freshly baked apple pie and coffee. It takes him a minute to remember that there is no way Dean could get himself a pie, let alone a cup of coffee, while they were in the middle of nowhere and at least a thirty minute drive away from any type of pastry-producing civilization.
So, the youngest Winchester is rightfully confused when he wakes up to the aromatic delights of pie and a cinnamon laced cappuccino.
“Dean?”
“Yo, Sammy. Sleep well?” Sam thinks his brother sounds far too satisfied for a man who’d spent the night on a lumpy sofa and he forces himself to sit up and shake off the fuzz of sleep.
“Yeah. I . . .” this is when he spots a sleep rumpled Dean sitting on the floor in a nest of blankets with a large half-eaten, still steaming, pie and a generous cup of frothy coffee placed in front of him. “ . . . Dean how did you get a pie?”
Dean takes a moment to wash down his last of bite of pastry with a swill of piping hot caffeine, “I told you, Sam-I-Am, Cas loves me, so he brings me pie!”
“I thought he loved your ass, Dean?”
“Well. He loves my ass and the rest of me is included in the package,” Dean takes another huge bite of pie, “Mmmm. Pie,” he swallows, “and I love him back.”
“Right.” Sam decides then and there that he doesn’t care how Dean got the pie, his brother is obviously alright even though he is in possession of a truly warped sense of humor. With that lingering thought he turns and snuggles back into the warm bed, resolving not to wake up until the sun is firmly in the sky and not still flirting with the horizon.
-------------------------------------------
Three.
No one was more relieved than Sam was when they finally pulled into a diner later that afternoon. Wherever or however Dean had gotten his hands on the coffee and pie this morning, he wasn’t sharing and by the time Sam had woken up there weren’t even any crumbs left.
Suffice to say Sam was starving and ready to break his health food kick with a deluxe bacon-cheeseburger and a chocolate shake. He settled onto the sticky plastic bench with a relieved sigh and Dean sat down across from him with an easy smile.
“We need to get you fed or you’ll start wasting away, dude.”
Sam’s eye twitched in annoyance, “Well, if you hadn’t horded all the food this morning then my stomach wouldn’t be trying to eat itself.”
A devilish grin is tossed his way, “I would have shared, but you went back to bed and I couldn’t let that pie just sit there. Anyway, it wasn’t for you.”
“That’s right,” Sam’s voice is thick with sarcasm, “you have an Angel of the Lord who moonlights as a food deliveryman.”
“Sammy if you keep rolling your eyes like that, they’re gonna get stuck that way.”
On the heels of Dean’s comment, a perky redheaded waitress bounces up to the table. “Hi! Are y’all ready to order? D’ya need to look at the specials?”
Sam barely lets her finish before rambling out his order and making sure to stress the need for a cup of coffee as soon as she can get it for him.
The oldest living Winchester forgoes his usual gluttonous fare and asks for fries and a coke. Sam’s surprised expression prompts Dean to say, “I’m still full.”
Sam snorts, “That must have been some pie.”
“Oh, it was Sammy - it was.” A warm expression of fond recollection crosses Dean’s face and Sam becomes slightly disturbed by his apparent obsession for pastry.
The bell over the door tinkles, signaling that another customer has entered the diner. His back is to the door, but Dean has a clear view and isn’t bothered by whoever came in.
Probably just another hungry motorist.
It strikes Sam that, his brother’s claims of angelic conveyance aside, he never really found out how Dean had ended up with that pie. He’s about to ask when Dean breaks his train of thought, “Hey, I’m gonna go use the toilet.” With that, Dean is up and making his way across the linoleum floor.
The cute waitress comes up and gives Sam his cup of caffeinated goodness and he takes a moment to breathe in the heady aroma. He feels the tension of the long drive lifting already.
The unfortunate effect of having the haze of stress and sleep finally cleared from his head is that Sam can now remember why he was so tense to begin with. His mind flashes back to the demon hurtling that axe at Dean, except this time there is no timely interference from Castiel. That’s not what happened. Dean is fine. He’s alive.
“Hon, you want me to freshen that up for you?” Sam must have been well and truly lost in his thoughts because the waitress is placing their orders on the table and his coffee cup is empty.
Dean still hasn’t returned.
“Yeah, thanks.” He makes sure to smile at her, “Hey, um, where’s the bathroom?”
On her way to the counter, she just points over her shoulder with a long, pink nail to a hallway behind him.
On the off chance that Dean really had finally succeeded in making himself sick by eating too much pie Sam decides to go check on him. His sneakers squeak on the floor as he walks to the men’s room. When he gets close, he hears the distinct sound of someone moaning.
Sam slips into the bathroom, one hand ready to draw the gun tucked into his pants, completely unprepared for what the cheap electric lighting reveals to him.
Dean has a smaller man pinned up against the green tiled wall and all that he can see is the man’s hair, but Sam could tell you the owner of that distinctively tousled style anywhere. What Sam couldn’t tell you is why Castiel’s hand is gripping his brother’s butt as if it’s the Holy Grail or what Dean is doing with his mouth to make the angel gasp and groan.
He must have made a sound because Dean spins around and has a gun leveled at him.
“Oh!” The gun vanishes back into Dean’s jacket, “Hey, Sam. Sorry, we got a little caught up.” He waggles his eyebrows and smirks at his younger brother who just continues to stare in disbelief.
Castiel steps out from behind Dean, slightly more disheveled than usual with a white box in one hand, and smiles at Sam as if he hadn’t walked in on him, an Angel of the Lord, passionately embracing his brother in the bathroom of a roadside diner.
Dean turns to face Sam directly, grinning widely as he slings an arm around Castiel’s shoulder, “Guess what, Sammy, Cas brought more pie!”
The angel tilts his head towards Dean, “Yes. I meant for you to have some this morning, but Dean ate it all.”
Sam wants to say something, but his tongue is frozen and through the mirror behind the two, he can see Castiel’s free hand smoothing its way into the back pocket of Dean’s jeans.
End.
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NOW WITH A PIE FILLED SEQUEL: Castiel versus The Internet
Tell me what you think! I feel a bunny nibbling at my feet over this story . . . I don’t need another series to write! D'Oh!