[Fic] Human-AU - Sin with a Grin - Chapter 2/18
Title: Sin with a Grin
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all associated characters belong to Kripke and Co. I make absolutely no claims on any of them.
Author’s Notes: Previous chapters and further notes can be found at the Master Post.
A special thanks to Dapperscript for the beta!
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Castiel woke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in a long time and stretched languidly. His body was pleasantly achy - the evidence of their activities the previous night - and Castiel allowed himself a happy little sigh. He rolled over to greet Dean, but realized the bed was empty. It wasn’t really terribly surprising. Since Dean started teaching, he had become an early riser. Cas sat up, the sheets falling from his bare chest, and the first thing he noticed was one of their smaller suitcases sitting out by the closet. It was packed, by the looks of how puffy it was. Castiel cocked his head and let out a little musing sound. He slid out of bed and grabbed Dean’s discarded jeans from the night before and pulled them on, the slightly-oversized denim hanging from his hips. He went in search of the younger man, and perhaps an explanation for the suitcase.
When Cas found Dean, the taller man was busily puttering around the kitchen, dressed in a loose pair of draw-string pants and one of Castiel’s Bureau T-shirts. Dean was slightly broader than Castiel and the black material was pulled pleasantly snug across his chest and shoulders.
Castiel padded up behind him and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, peering over his shoulder to watch Dean put the finishing touches on the breakfast he was preparing: crepes with fresh berries, whipped cream and powdered sugar. Castiel’s lips curved into a smile against Dean’s shoulder.
“Good morning,” he said gently.
“Morning,” Dean returned, turning his head to place an awkward - but sweet - kiss against Castiel’s nearest temple.
“So are you going to tell me about your great mystery and why I’ve earned myself a five-star breakfast, or do I have to guess?” Castiel asked, releasing Dean and picking up the silverware and cups of coffee as Dean carried the plates over to the table.
“Aren’t you good at guessing? It is your job after all,” Dean flashed Cas a grin.
“I’m good at investigating. I’m horrible at guessing,” Castiel corrected.
“Well I’m great at keeping secrets, secret. So you’ll just have to wait and see,” Dean answered. “Now dig in, I slaved all morning.”
“Well thank you, I will,” Castiel answered. As usual, the breakfast was excellent; over the years Castiel found that Dean was a surprisingly good cook given the right meal, and various breakfasts were his speciality. As long as Castiel didn’t let Dean near a frying pan for anything other than breakfast, he was good. He still hadn’t quite mastered the oven either, and for the first little while, before Castiel resigned himself to cooking dinner, they lived on a stable diet of various pieces of charcoal masquerading as meat and vegetables. Though give the younger man breakfast to cook (or anything to grill) and he somehow transformed into a culinary master.
“I called Andy and ordered him not to bug you for anything other than life or death, and Andrea and I basically have the carnival in the bag so we’re good there. If there’s anything you need to do this weekend, let me know and we’ll get it done this morning,” Dean said after a few moments of companionable silence.
“You called my assistant? Now I’m really intrigued,” Castiel replied.
Dean shrugged in response, “It’s not really that big of a deal. I just figured after all the shit both of us have been handling lately, we deserved a break.”
“Well I agree. I only need to drop my dry-cleaning off; other than that I had no specific plans,” Castiel said.
“Great. We’ll do that on the way then,” Dean nodded.
“On the way where, again?” Cas asked casually, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Ha, ha, good try. Not happening,” Dean replied. Castiel smiled around the rim of his coffee cup.
xx
Dean smiled, letting the warm early autumn breeze caress his face, feeling the thrum of the bass from his speakers, the smooth wheel of his baby under his hands and perfectly content to be sitting, saying nothing with Castiel beside him.
“We haven’t been to the cabin in ages,” Castiel remarked with a smile. “This was a very good idea.” Once they got on the highway it didn’t take Castiel long to realize where they were going.
“Right? You can thank Sam for it. He’s the one who basically shoved it down my throat. I think he was sick of all your sexual frustration at work and wanted you to relax,” Dean grinned.
“Well certainly no more sexual frustration on my end,” Castiel replied. They lapsed into a few moments of comfortable silence once more, then Dean felt that irritating little twinge in his stomach again.
“Hey Cas?” Dean said shyly.
Castiel turned, “Yes Dean?”
“Sorry again, okay? I still feel like a bit of a shit for basically ignoring you for two months,” Dean shifted uncomfortably.
“Dean,” Castiel reached across the bench seat and squeezed Dean’s nearest knee, “we’ve been over this. It was just as much my fault as yours. We’ve both been busy. No more apologies. It can’t be perfect all the time.”
Dean pouted, though he’d never admit to the pout, and said, “Why not?”
Castiel chuckled at how very young Dean seemed just then and gave his knee another squeeze, “Because if it was perfect all the time we’d never be able appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replied. “Well it’s my job to make it as close to perfect as possible, so that’s precisely what I’m going to use this weekend for.”
After a few miles, they found themselves pulling into the gas station. Dean’s Impala may have been a gorgeous piece of automobile genius, but she was not exactly easy on fuel.
“Hey, isn’t that the diner that has that apple pie you like?” Castiel asked, nodding across the parking lot. Dean paused in climbing out of the car to stare in the direction Castiel was indicating.
“Yeah, actually,” Dean replied. Castiel smiled at him and reached into the glove compartment, pulling out his badge and gun, reattaching them both to his person. As a Federal Agent he was required to carry them at all times, unless he was drinking. Dean felt a strange combination of anxiety and comfort knowing that Castiel was always armed, but it was part of the job. He knew for Sammy that was one of the hardest things for him to get used to. Jess hated guns.
“I’ll be right back,” Castiel said, sliding out of the Impala and jogging across the parking lot to the diner.
As Dean stood pumping the gas into the Impala and humming quietly to himself, he felt an odd little frisson creep up his spine and cause the hair at the back of his neck to rise. Dean shivered in his leather jacket and looked around the gas station suspiciously. He mentally urged the gas to pump faster and only relaxed when Cas and his gun appeared from the diner, white bag in hand that held Dean’s pie.
“Hey Babe?” Dean called. Castiel frowned at Dean’s tone and quickened his pace a little as he approached.
“What is it?” Castiel asked, shifting modes.
“Your spidey senses tingling?” Dean asked in a low voice once Cas was at his side. Castiel peered around, trained eyes peeled for anything suspicious, hand shifting to hover over the holster that held his Government-issued Glock. Though not entirely likely, Castiel and Sam did just land what Dean assumed was a fairly big fish, with all the potential danger that entailed. Rings like the one Castiel took down didn’t necessarily go quietly. Dean didn’t really think they would be a target, but he wasn’t entirely prepared to rule it out either.
“Did you see something?” Castiel asked.
“No, not really. I just… funny feeling. But if you think the coast is clear, your instincts are better than mine,” Dean shrugged. Castiel relaxed fractionally, but he remained leaning against the car until Dean finished filling the tank.
“I’ll pay, you get in the car,” Castiel said. Dean normally would have argued the treatment - he certainly wasn’t a damsel in distress - but he was still a little on edge and complied, handing Castiel his gas card before tucking his wallet away.
Cas smiled. “Be right back.” After Dean watched Castiel enter the gas station, he hit the locks on the Impala and sat drumming on the steering wheel, peering around the station for what had set him off earlier. He shrugged it off and chalked it up to his father’s inherited paranoia. Castiel seemed to be taking an awful long time, though.
Dean could not shake his anxious feeling and shot his gaze around the lot. The gas station part of it was basically empty, except for a young looking brunette woman filling up the tank of a new black Charger one pump over. He wondered idly where she got the money, but opted not to stare too long. The diner lot across the way had a few more cars, but not many. Dean shot green eyes around and fidgeted for a moment. His hand itched and reached out for the glove compartment, jumping embarrassingly when the young woman’s car door slammed shut and she peeled out of the gas station with probably more speed than necessary. Dean returned his attention to the just-interrupted task at hand and tried to ease his pounding heart.
When Castiel returned unscathed a few minutes later, it was to Dean sorting and organizing his glove compartment. Castiel placed a hand over Dean’s and gave him a gentle, sympathetic look.
“Dean, it’s all right,” Castiel said quietly. Dean coughed and snatched his hands away from the only half organized storage flap, trying not to think about it being only half done.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly. Castiel took his badge out of his pocket and his gun out of his holster, tucking them neatly away before buckling his seat belt. Only then did Dean start the car and pull out of the station.
xx
The first thing Dean did when they entered the cabin was not take Castiel to the bedroom and show him just how much he missed him, like he had intended ever since he agreed to use the cabin. No, the first thing Dean did when they entered the cabin was clean; all the while he felt Castiel’s eyes on him, watching with quiet resignation as Dean moved from one mindless calming task to the other. It didn’t take as long as Dean would have liked; once a week a local woman came in to clean up the cabin and made sure everything was in working order. It had been Sam and Dean’s grandfather’s, and though it had technically been left to their dad upon Gramps’ passing, Sam and Dean stayed in the place more often than their dad did and took over the majority of the fees required for its upkeep. The maid had been Sam’s idea, because when they were both younger he had been sick of watching Dean give the place a thorough scrub down before they could do anything fun.
“Dean,” Castiel said gently.
“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean snapped. He hated being on edge and feeling so utterly useless. What if his imagined threat had actually been real and Cas hadn’t been there to back him up? Or worse yet, what if whatever was there had attacked Cas and Dean could just watch on helplessly? Yes, Dean was trained better than your average grade-school teacher when it came to weapons and self-defence, but he didn’t have a Weapon’s permit. Not that Dean had any desire to have a gun anyway.
A retort was on the tip of Castiel’s tongue but he swallowed it back and flashed Dean a smile instead, “Let go to that fish and chips place down the road.”
“Okay,” Dean said.
xx
As soon as their waitress sat them and brought over small plates of milk, cream and butter, Dean’s fingers twitched over them, sorting the haphazard piles into neat patterns and rows. In the middle of Dean’s organization of the sugar packets, Castiel’s hand closed over Dean’s and he pulled it away, putting it flat on the table and refused to let go of Dean’s hand until the wood of the small table no longer vibrated with each bounce of Dean’s right knee.
“Dean, we’re fine,” Castiel said low and firmly, leaning closer to the younger man. “I understand you had a jolt today, I get it, I do. That is not a fun feeling whatsoever, but: We. Are. Fine. So stop trying to order and control something that isn’t there to be ordered and controlled. All right?”
Dean’s hand clenched into a fist underneath Castiel’s before he let out a shaky breath and nodded, “Sure.”
“I’m not convinced,” Castiel responded flatly.
“I said okay, Cas,” Dean hissed in response, leaning towards the other man, eyes flashing.
Castiel released Dean’s hand and held both of his up in the classic surrender. Dean glared at him a moment before opening his menu with a resounding finality, even though they stopped needing them years ago.
Castiel watched Dean carefully for a moment, keen blue eyes tracing over Dean’s face before he turned his attention away, somewhat satisfied with what he found, and flagged down Margery.
“The usual, Kids?” the woman asked. She was probably only about five or six years older than Cas, but she never failed to call them kids. It had annoyed Cas at first but Dean had reassured him that she was only doing it because she liked them. It was a habit left over from when their dad would bring Dean and Sam here as boys, and once Castiel became attached to Dean, so too the nickname became attached to Cas.
“Yes please,” Cas answered for them both because Dean had lapsed into pouty silence. Exasperated, Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean’s swell would break soon though, and Cas knew they just had to ride it out.
“Sorry,” Dean said quietly a few moments later.
“It’s all right, Love,” Castiel replied gently. Dean blushed at the endearment, as he always did, and shot Cas a shy smile, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
“Seriously, Dude?” Dean wrinkled his nose.
“Whatever works,” Castiel responded with an answering smile. The rest of the meal rolled by as if nothing had happened and Castiel was grateful for it. Soon enough, Cas found himself sliding his card across the table after getting the cheque, then signed on the dotted line, leaving a generous tip for the always indulgent Margery. As they stood and walked to the door, Dean wrapped and arm around Castiel’s waist and leaned in to press a kiss to the agent’s temple.
“Thanks Babe,” he said quietly in Castiel’s ear. Thanks for dinner. Thanks for understanding. Thanks for putting up with my bullshit.
“There’s no need to thank me, Dean, but you’re very welcome nonetheless,” Cas responded seriously, then waited a beat before flashing Dean a wicked grin. “Though if you want to show me just how thankful you are when we get back to the cabin, I’m not going to argue in the slightest.”
“Is that so?” Dean quirked a brow, grinning, squeezing the ticklish spot at Castiel’s side and causing the slighter man to wriggle away from him with a laugh.
xx
Once the exit of the two men was singled by the cheerful ringing of the bell at the door, a young woman in a booth in the back got up and laid a twenty dollar bill down on the table. As she exited the restaurant through the side entrance, she pulled off her blonde wig and shook out her long dark hair, tucking the wig in her coat and walking down the street, pulling out a cell phone as she did.
End Chapter
Previous | Master Post | Next
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all associated characters belong to Kripke and Co. I make absolutely no claims on any of them.
Author’s Notes: Previous chapters and further notes can be found at the Master Post.
A special thanks to Dapperscript for the beta!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Castiel woke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in a long time and stretched languidly. His body was pleasantly achy - the evidence of their activities the previous night - and Castiel allowed himself a happy little sigh. He rolled over to greet Dean, but realized the bed was empty. It wasn’t really terribly surprising. Since Dean started teaching, he had become an early riser. Cas sat up, the sheets falling from his bare chest, and the first thing he noticed was one of their smaller suitcases sitting out by the closet. It was packed, by the looks of how puffy it was. Castiel cocked his head and let out a little musing sound. He slid out of bed and grabbed Dean’s discarded jeans from the night before and pulled them on, the slightly-oversized denim hanging from his hips. He went in search of the younger man, and perhaps an explanation for the suitcase.
When Cas found Dean, the taller man was busily puttering around the kitchen, dressed in a loose pair of draw-string pants and one of Castiel’s Bureau T-shirts. Dean was slightly broader than Castiel and the black material was pulled pleasantly snug across his chest and shoulders.
Castiel padded up behind him and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, peering over his shoulder to watch Dean put the finishing touches on the breakfast he was preparing: crepes with fresh berries, whipped cream and powdered sugar. Castiel’s lips curved into a smile against Dean’s shoulder.
“Good morning,” he said gently.
“Morning,” Dean returned, turning his head to place an awkward - but sweet - kiss against Castiel’s nearest temple.
“So are you going to tell me about your great mystery and why I’ve earned myself a five-star breakfast, or do I have to guess?” Castiel asked, releasing Dean and picking up the silverware and cups of coffee as Dean carried the plates over to the table.
“Aren’t you good at guessing? It is your job after all,” Dean flashed Cas a grin.
“I’m good at investigating. I’m horrible at guessing,” Castiel corrected.
“Well I’m great at keeping secrets, secret. So you’ll just have to wait and see,” Dean answered. “Now dig in, I slaved all morning.”
“Well thank you, I will,” Castiel answered. As usual, the breakfast was excellent; over the years Castiel found that Dean was a surprisingly good cook given the right meal, and various breakfasts were his speciality. As long as Castiel didn’t let Dean near a frying pan for anything other than breakfast, he was good. He still hadn’t quite mastered the oven either, and for the first little while, before Castiel resigned himself to cooking dinner, they lived on a stable diet of various pieces of charcoal masquerading as meat and vegetables. Though give the younger man breakfast to cook (or anything to grill) and he somehow transformed into a culinary master.
“I called Andy and ordered him not to bug you for anything other than life or death, and Andrea and I basically have the carnival in the bag so we’re good there. If there’s anything you need to do this weekend, let me know and we’ll get it done this morning,” Dean said after a few moments of companionable silence.
“You called my assistant? Now I’m really intrigued,” Castiel replied.
Dean shrugged in response, “It’s not really that big of a deal. I just figured after all the shit both of us have been handling lately, we deserved a break.”
“Well I agree. I only need to drop my dry-cleaning off; other than that I had no specific plans,” Castiel said.
“Great. We’ll do that on the way then,” Dean nodded.
“On the way where, again?” Cas asked casually, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Ha, ha, good try. Not happening,” Dean replied. Castiel smiled around the rim of his coffee cup.
xx
Dean smiled, letting the warm early autumn breeze caress his face, feeling the thrum of the bass from his speakers, the smooth wheel of his baby under his hands and perfectly content to be sitting, saying nothing with Castiel beside him.
“We haven’t been to the cabin in ages,” Castiel remarked with a smile. “This was a very good idea.” Once they got on the highway it didn’t take Castiel long to realize where they were going.
“Right? You can thank Sam for it. He’s the one who basically shoved it down my throat. I think he was sick of all your sexual frustration at work and wanted you to relax,” Dean grinned.
“Well certainly no more sexual frustration on my end,” Castiel replied. They lapsed into a few moments of comfortable silence once more, then Dean felt that irritating little twinge in his stomach again.
“Hey Cas?” Dean said shyly.
Castiel turned, “Yes Dean?”
“Sorry again, okay? I still feel like a bit of a shit for basically ignoring you for two months,” Dean shifted uncomfortably.
“Dean,” Castiel reached across the bench seat and squeezed Dean’s nearest knee, “we’ve been over this. It was just as much my fault as yours. We’ve both been busy. No more apologies. It can’t be perfect all the time.”
Dean pouted, though he’d never admit to the pout, and said, “Why not?”
Castiel chuckled at how very young Dean seemed just then and gave his knee another squeeze, “Because if it was perfect all the time we’d never be able appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replied. “Well it’s my job to make it as close to perfect as possible, so that’s precisely what I’m going to use this weekend for.”
After a few miles, they found themselves pulling into the gas station. Dean’s Impala may have been a gorgeous piece of automobile genius, but she was not exactly easy on fuel.
“Hey, isn’t that the diner that has that apple pie you like?” Castiel asked, nodding across the parking lot. Dean paused in climbing out of the car to stare in the direction Castiel was indicating.
“Yeah, actually,” Dean replied. Castiel smiled at him and reached into the glove compartment, pulling out his badge and gun, reattaching them both to his person. As a Federal Agent he was required to carry them at all times, unless he was drinking. Dean felt a strange combination of anxiety and comfort knowing that Castiel was always armed, but it was part of the job. He knew for Sammy that was one of the hardest things for him to get used to. Jess hated guns.
“I’ll be right back,” Castiel said, sliding out of the Impala and jogging across the parking lot to the diner.
As Dean stood pumping the gas into the Impala and humming quietly to himself, he felt an odd little frisson creep up his spine and cause the hair at the back of his neck to rise. Dean shivered in his leather jacket and looked around the gas station suspiciously. He mentally urged the gas to pump faster and only relaxed when Cas and his gun appeared from the diner, white bag in hand that held Dean’s pie.
“Hey Babe?” Dean called. Castiel frowned at Dean’s tone and quickened his pace a little as he approached.
“What is it?” Castiel asked, shifting modes.
“Your spidey senses tingling?” Dean asked in a low voice once Cas was at his side. Castiel peered around, trained eyes peeled for anything suspicious, hand shifting to hover over the holster that held his Government-issued Glock. Though not entirely likely, Castiel and Sam did just land what Dean assumed was a fairly big fish, with all the potential danger that entailed. Rings like the one Castiel took down didn’t necessarily go quietly. Dean didn’t really think they would be a target, but he wasn’t entirely prepared to rule it out either.
“Did you see something?” Castiel asked.
“No, not really. I just… funny feeling. But if you think the coast is clear, your instincts are better than mine,” Dean shrugged. Castiel relaxed fractionally, but he remained leaning against the car until Dean finished filling the tank.
“I’ll pay, you get in the car,” Castiel said. Dean normally would have argued the treatment - he certainly wasn’t a damsel in distress - but he was still a little on edge and complied, handing Castiel his gas card before tucking his wallet away.
Cas smiled. “Be right back.” After Dean watched Castiel enter the gas station, he hit the locks on the Impala and sat drumming on the steering wheel, peering around the station for what had set him off earlier. He shrugged it off and chalked it up to his father’s inherited paranoia. Castiel seemed to be taking an awful long time, though.
Dean could not shake his anxious feeling and shot his gaze around the lot. The gas station part of it was basically empty, except for a young looking brunette woman filling up the tank of a new black Charger one pump over. He wondered idly where she got the money, but opted not to stare too long. The diner lot across the way had a few more cars, but not many. Dean shot green eyes around and fidgeted for a moment. His hand itched and reached out for the glove compartment, jumping embarrassingly when the young woman’s car door slammed shut and she peeled out of the gas station with probably more speed than necessary. Dean returned his attention to the just-interrupted task at hand and tried to ease his pounding heart.
When Castiel returned unscathed a few minutes later, it was to Dean sorting and organizing his glove compartment. Castiel placed a hand over Dean’s and gave him a gentle, sympathetic look.
“Dean, it’s all right,” Castiel said quietly. Dean coughed and snatched his hands away from the only half organized storage flap, trying not to think about it being only half done.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly. Castiel took his badge out of his pocket and his gun out of his holster, tucking them neatly away before buckling his seat belt. Only then did Dean start the car and pull out of the station.
xx
The first thing Dean did when they entered the cabin was not take Castiel to the bedroom and show him just how much he missed him, like he had intended ever since he agreed to use the cabin. No, the first thing Dean did when they entered the cabin was clean; all the while he felt Castiel’s eyes on him, watching with quiet resignation as Dean moved from one mindless calming task to the other. It didn’t take as long as Dean would have liked; once a week a local woman came in to clean up the cabin and made sure everything was in working order. It had been Sam and Dean’s grandfather’s, and though it had technically been left to their dad upon Gramps’ passing, Sam and Dean stayed in the place more often than their dad did and took over the majority of the fees required for its upkeep. The maid had been Sam’s idea, because when they were both younger he had been sick of watching Dean give the place a thorough scrub down before they could do anything fun.
“Dean,” Castiel said gently.
“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean snapped. He hated being on edge and feeling so utterly useless. What if his imagined threat had actually been real and Cas hadn’t been there to back him up? Or worse yet, what if whatever was there had attacked Cas and Dean could just watch on helplessly? Yes, Dean was trained better than your average grade-school teacher when it came to weapons and self-defence, but he didn’t have a Weapon’s permit. Not that Dean had any desire to have a gun anyway.
A retort was on the tip of Castiel’s tongue but he swallowed it back and flashed Dean a smile instead, “Let go to that fish and chips place down the road.”
“Okay,” Dean said.
xx
As soon as their waitress sat them and brought over small plates of milk, cream and butter, Dean’s fingers twitched over them, sorting the haphazard piles into neat patterns and rows. In the middle of Dean’s organization of the sugar packets, Castiel’s hand closed over Dean’s and he pulled it away, putting it flat on the table and refused to let go of Dean’s hand until the wood of the small table no longer vibrated with each bounce of Dean’s right knee.
“Dean, we’re fine,” Castiel said low and firmly, leaning closer to the younger man. “I understand you had a jolt today, I get it, I do. That is not a fun feeling whatsoever, but: We. Are. Fine. So stop trying to order and control something that isn’t there to be ordered and controlled. All right?”
Dean’s hand clenched into a fist underneath Castiel’s before he let out a shaky breath and nodded, “Sure.”
“I’m not convinced,” Castiel responded flatly.
“I said okay, Cas,” Dean hissed in response, leaning towards the other man, eyes flashing.
Castiel released Dean’s hand and held both of his up in the classic surrender. Dean glared at him a moment before opening his menu with a resounding finality, even though they stopped needing them years ago.
Castiel watched Dean carefully for a moment, keen blue eyes tracing over Dean’s face before he turned his attention away, somewhat satisfied with what he found, and flagged down Margery.
“The usual, Kids?” the woman asked. She was probably only about five or six years older than Cas, but she never failed to call them kids. It had annoyed Cas at first but Dean had reassured him that she was only doing it because she liked them. It was a habit left over from when their dad would bring Dean and Sam here as boys, and once Castiel became attached to Dean, so too the nickname became attached to Cas.
“Yes please,” Cas answered for them both because Dean had lapsed into pouty silence. Exasperated, Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean’s swell would break soon though, and Cas knew they just had to ride it out.
“Sorry,” Dean said quietly a few moments later.
“It’s all right, Love,” Castiel replied gently. Dean blushed at the endearment, as he always did, and shot Cas a shy smile, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
“Seriously, Dude?” Dean wrinkled his nose.
“Whatever works,” Castiel responded with an answering smile. The rest of the meal rolled by as if nothing had happened and Castiel was grateful for it. Soon enough, Cas found himself sliding his card across the table after getting the cheque, then signed on the dotted line, leaving a generous tip for the always indulgent Margery. As they stood and walked to the door, Dean wrapped and arm around Castiel’s waist and leaned in to press a kiss to the agent’s temple.
“Thanks Babe,” he said quietly in Castiel’s ear. Thanks for dinner. Thanks for understanding. Thanks for putting up with my bullshit.
“There’s no need to thank me, Dean, but you’re very welcome nonetheless,” Cas responded seriously, then waited a beat before flashing Dean a wicked grin. “Though if you want to show me just how thankful you are when we get back to the cabin, I’m not going to argue in the slightest.”
“Is that so?” Dean quirked a brow, grinning, squeezing the ticklish spot at Castiel’s side and causing the slighter man to wriggle away from him with a laugh.
xx
Once the exit of the two men was singled by the cheerful ringing of the bell at the door, a young woman in a booth in the back got up and laid a twenty dollar bill down on the table. As she exited the restaurant through the side entrance, she pulled off her blonde wig and shook out her long dark hair, tucking the wig in her coat and walking down the street, pulling out a cell phone as she did.
End Chapter
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