[fic post] Five-Card Draw
Title: Five-Card Draw
Rating: PG
Genre: Humor
Pairings or Characters: Dean/Cas, Sam
Warnings: minor spoilers for general season 5
Word Count: 1,077
Summary: Sometimes, only sometimes, Sam wishes he didn't know Dean.
Author Notes: I've had this lying around unfinished for ages, but I finally finished it. I love how I alternate which brother I torture. XD
Five-Card Draw
"Dean, this isn't fair," Sam whines, making his patented Bitchface #48. It's reserved strictly for times between jobs and when there's little to no angst surrounding them, which makes it one of the more elusive of the Many Bitchfaces of Sam, and also one of Dean's favorites.
Dean ignores it and grins smugly back.
"Angels can't cheat, Sam. I'm pretty sure that's a sin."
Sam continues grimacing.
"But Dean, he's won every single pot, and he's never played a round before tonight. He sucks at every other human thing he first tries, so he should suck at cards, too," he pouts, before adding awkwardly, "Er, no offense, Cas."
"None taken, Sam," Cas reassures him gently before discarding two cards.
Sam hands him two fresh cards off the top of the deck, and makes sure to keep a stern eye on Dean as he does. Even if Dean wasn't allowed to play -- Sam has watched Dean hustle cards since he was five, so whenever there's betting involved in these friendly poker games, Dean has to sit out -- Sam didn't entirely trust him not to swipe cards out of the deck if he wasn't watched closely.
Sam discards two as well, but the cards he draws don't improve his hand much at all. The pot is small this round, so when Castiel continues his strategy of betting low every round since he doesn't understand bluffing, or really anything about poker at all, Sam decides he might as well give it a shot anyway and calls Castiel's bet.
"I've got two pair," Sam sighs as he drops his cards on the table, already resigned to lose.
"I have an 8, a 3, a jack, a 6 and a king," Castiel says slowly, placing each card onto the table as he identifies it. Sam listens and starts to smile, because that hand is nothing, even when compared to his measly pairs of 7s and 2s. But then he actually looks at the cards in front of the angel and realizes they're all spades.
"A flush!" Dean provides gleefully.
"... Seriously. Not fair."
This time it's Bitchface #14, the, "I Quit, This Is Stupid," expression that gets a surprisingly fair amount of use despite being entirely appropriate for a six year old rather than a twenty-six year old.
"We should go to Vegas," Dean suggests with an eyebrow wag, pulling Castiel's newest winnings into the large pile the angel has amassed over the course of the evening.
"Dean, you can't exploit your angel," Sam says sternly.
"What?" Dean shrugs, like taking Cas to Vegas and using his unnatural poker skills to make serious bank is perfectly reasonable and not exploitation at all. Sam rolls his eyes and Dean lets out a grunt. "Fine, no Vegas."
While Dean counts the money -- some of which is his own, anyway, since Cas has never had reason to carry cash on his person -- Sam leans back in his chair and asks Cas, "So how are you so amazing at poker, anyway?"
"I am not entirely sure," Cas says slowly. "Perhaps my vessel has innate talent?"
"So... you're mooching off of Jimmy's poker skills?" Dean asks, pausing his tally of the winnings to turn his head and stare. Cas shrugs, as if he can't think of any other possible reason.
"Wait, if you're having Jimmy play for you, that is kind of cheating," Sam starts to mumble, but Dean gives him a look.
"Jimmy's not in there anymore, and for the last time, he wasn't cheating," Dean glares, like the insinuation that Cas could even fathom cheating at cards was a deep, personal insult. Sam pulls his hands up in a display of defeat and backs off.
"Well, whatever. I'm done playing poker with you two, for good," Sam sighs, pushing himself up from the small motel room table and heading towards his bed.
"Hey, Sammy, don't be a sore loser," Dean teases, but Sam ignores him and turns on the TV.
"I'm not being a sore loser, I'm being smart. Playing with a hustler and an angel that is freakishly good at poker is a dumb idea in the first place," he grumbles at the television. Dean wants to complain, but Sam has a good point, so he leaves him be.
Cas is still sitting next to him, staring intently as Dean finishes his count of the winnings, like he's not allowed to move or leave unless Dean says so.
"Eighty bucks. Not bad, not bad," Dean smiles, before pocketing everything. Cas makes an indignant noise beside him and Dean raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"I won that," Cas points out.
"Yeah, but what do you need money for?" Cas realizes Dean has a point, but looks upset anyway, which makes Dean laugh. "Hey, I'll give you something better," he grins, reaching over and tugging the angel's trench coat, which brings Cas leaning into his personal space. He presses their lips together, and while he's grown used to it, the initial stillness is still a bit eerie until Cas realizes what's happening and softens into him.
From the vicinity of the bed, Sam makes an uncomfortable noise.
"I thought we talked about the PDA thing," he mutters awkwardly.
Dean knows Sam isn't looking at him, so he teases Cas' tongue out of his mouth and starts kissing in earnest, filling the room with very loud, wet sounds until Sam finally does turn over to send him dirty looks. The angel doesn't notice that Dean is kissing him so enthusiastically just to make Sam embarrassed, but he contributes to the cause by letting out several moans into Dean's mouth. Sam's expression turns to horror as he realizes Dean is getting turned on and quickly leaps up from the bed and practically runs at the door.
Dean, somewhat reluctantly, pulls away from Cas to ask over his shoulder, "Where are you going?"
Sam stops at the door, looking between the smug expression on Dean and the impatient one on Cas, and sighs.
"Booking a second room. On a different floor, so I can't hear you two moaning all night," he grimaces before leaving the room and pulling the door shut behind him.
"Dean--" Cas starts, in that half-whine, half-monotone of his, but Dean cuts him off with a short kiss.
"C'mon. We're gonna wake up the whole town," he smirks, lifting himself up and heading for the bed, tugging Cas along by the tie.
Rating: PG
Genre: Humor
Pairings or Characters: Dean/Cas, Sam
Warnings: minor spoilers for general season 5
Word Count: 1,077
Summary: Sometimes, only sometimes, Sam wishes he didn't know Dean.
Author Notes: I've had this lying around unfinished for ages, but I finally finished it. I love how I alternate which brother I torture. XD
Five-Card Draw
"Dean, this isn't fair," Sam whines, making his patented Bitchface #48. It's reserved strictly for times between jobs and when there's little to no angst surrounding them, which makes it one of the more elusive of the Many Bitchfaces of Sam, and also one of Dean's favorites.
Dean ignores it and grins smugly back.
"Angels can't cheat, Sam. I'm pretty sure that's a sin."
Sam continues grimacing.
"But Dean, he's won every single pot, and he's never played a round before tonight. He sucks at every other human thing he first tries, so he should suck at cards, too," he pouts, before adding awkwardly, "Er, no offense, Cas."
"None taken, Sam," Cas reassures him gently before discarding two cards.
Sam hands him two fresh cards off the top of the deck, and makes sure to keep a stern eye on Dean as he does. Even if Dean wasn't allowed to play -- Sam has watched Dean hustle cards since he was five, so whenever there's betting involved in these friendly poker games, Dean has to sit out -- Sam didn't entirely trust him not to swipe cards out of the deck if he wasn't watched closely.
Sam discards two as well, but the cards he draws don't improve his hand much at all. The pot is small this round, so when Castiel continues his strategy of betting low every round since he doesn't understand bluffing, or really anything about poker at all, Sam decides he might as well give it a shot anyway and calls Castiel's bet.
"I've got two pair," Sam sighs as he drops his cards on the table, already resigned to lose.
"I have an 8, a 3, a jack, a 6 and a king," Castiel says slowly, placing each card onto the table as he identifies it. Sam listens and starts to smile, because that hand is nothing, even when compared to his measly pairs of 7s and 2s. But then he actually looks at the cards in front of the angel and realizes they're all spades.
"A flush!" Dean provides gleefully.
"... Seriously. Not fair."
This time it's Bitchface #14, the, "I Quit, This Is Stupid," expression that gets a surprisingly fair amount of use despite being entirely appropriate for a six year old rather than a twenty-six year old.
"We should go to Vegas," Dean suggests with an eyebrow wag, pulling Castiel's newest winnings into the large pile the angel has amassed over the course of the evening.
"Dean, you can't exploit your angel," Sam says sternly.
"What?" Dean shrugs, like taking Cas to Vegas and using his unnatural poker skills to make serious bank is perfectly reasonable and not exploitation at all. Sam rolls his eyes and Dean lets out a grunt. "Fine, no Vegas."
While Dean counts the money -- some of which is his own, anyway, since Cas has never had reason to carry cash on his person -- Sam leans back in his chair and asks Cas, "So how are you so amazing at poker, anyway?"
"I am not entirely sure," Cas says slowly. "Perhaps my vessel has innate talent?"
"So... you're mooching off of Jimmy's poker skills?" Dean asks, pausing his tally of the winnings to turn his head and stare. Cas shrugs, as if he can't think of any other possible reason.
"Wait, if you're having Jimmy play for you, that is kind of cheating," Sam starts to mumble, but Dean gives him a look.
"Jimmy's not in there anymore, and for the last time, he wasn't cheating," Dean glares, like the insinuation that Cas could even fathom cheating at cards was a deep, personal insult. Sam pulls his hands up in a display of defeat and backs off.
"Well, whatever. I'm done playing poker with you two, for good," Sam sighs, pushing himself up from the small motel room table and heading towards his bed.
"Hey, Sammy, don't be a sore loser," Dean teases, but Sam ignores him and turns on the TV.
"I'm not being a sore loser, I'm being smart. Playing with a hustler and an angel that is freakishly good at poker is a dumb idea in the first place," he grumbles at the television. Dean wants to complain, but Sam has a good point, so he leaves him be.
Cas is still sitting next to him, staring intently as Dean finishes his count of the winnings, like he's not allowed to move or leave unless Dean says so.
"Eighty bucks. Not bad, not bad," Dean smiles, before pocketing everything. Cas makes an indignant noise beside him and Dean raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"I won that," Cas points out.
"Yeah, but what do you need money for?" Cas realizes Dean has a point, but looks upset anyway, which makes Dean laugh. "Hey, I'll give you something better," he grins, reaching over and tugging the angel's trench coat, which brings Cas leaning into his personal space. He presses their lips together, and while he's grown used to it, the initial stillness is still a bit eerie until Cas realizes what's happening and softens into him.
From the vicinity of the bed, Sam makes an uncomfortable noise.
"I thought we talked about the PDA thing," he mutters awkwardly.
Dean knows Sam isn't looking at him, so he teases Cas' tongue out of his mouth and starts kissing in earnest, filling the room with very loud, wet sounds until Sam finally does turn over to send him dirty looks. The angel doesn't notice that Dean is kissing him so enthusiastically just to make Sam embarrassed, but he contributes to the cause by letting out several moans into Dean's mouth. Sam's expression turns to horror as he realizes Dean is getting turned on and quickly leaps up from the bed and practically runs at the door.
Dean, somewhat reluctantly, pulls away from Cas to ask over his shoulder, "Where are you going?"
Sam stops at the door, looking between the smug expression on Dean and the impatient one on Cas, and sighs.
"Booking a second room. On a different floor, so I can't hear you two moaning all night," he grimaces before leaving the room and pulling the door shut behind him.
"Dean--" Cas starts, in that half-whine, half-monotone of his, but Dean cuts him off with a short kiss.
"C'mon. We're gonna wake up the whole town," he smirks, lifting himself up and heading for the bed, tugging Cas along by the tie.