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Deanna could be very adamant about the fact that, no, she didn’t like guys. She liked women. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She’d never been attracted to a guy, not once, and from where she was standing that wasn’t about to change.
And wouldn’t you know, as soon as she thought the words…
It wasn’t like it was a lot of guys. Or even a few guys. More like…a non-gender-determined-angel-who-so-happened-to-be-using-a-male-vessel-and-that-was-unlikely-to-change-any-time-soon. Of course it was.
Damn the angel.
Most of the time she was able to ignore it and go on flirting with the good-looking chicks they found in bars between (and sometimes during) hunts, and she could pretend that those weird feelings in the back of her head would go away if she willed it hard enough. But it didn’t exactly work out like that—of course it didn’t.
They’d just finished a hunt, and she and Sam had been in some dive joint they’d found in town, and Deanna had been playing pool with a few of the locals, earning a pretty penny in their downtime—Sam even joined in on a few rounds. It was probably Deanna’s favorite time, running high on the adrenaline rush that came from a job well done. So when her phone had started ringing in her pocket and she’d picked it up without looking to see the name, she felt a jolt—and it was not panic, she didn’t get flustered over nerdy tax accountant-looking angels in male vessels—run down her spine when she heard the voice on the other end say: “Deanna, where are you?”
And what other choice did she have but to tell him where they were? Why not, right? It wasn’t as if there was anything wrong with Cas dropping by. Almost as soon as she’d said the address, he swept in through the front door, looking so out of place it made her embarrassed. All things considered, though, it could have been worse. The three of them sat down in a booth, Deanna making sure that Cas sat on the other side next to Sam, and had a beer. Or two. Maybe four. She could have sworn it had been only one, but Sam—who she was positive was on at least his fifth—told her it was twice that many, but she could count the bottles in front of her, and it only looked like three. The other…the other ones belonged to Cas.
Somewhere between number two and five was when she made her move.
All Deanna knew was that the woman over at the bar was a brunette, wore crazy-ass stilettos that Deanna herself wouldn’t be caught dead in (always with the boots, thanks), and had been making eyes at Cas since he’d walked in. Normally Deanna would be all for getting the virgin angel laid so he might finally take the stick out of his ass. Tonight, though? Not a chance in Hell. (And Deanna would know, if anyone.)
But Cas had been the one to offer to get more drinks, and before Deanna could say anything Sam had already agreed. As soon as Cas got out of the booth, Deanna leaned over the table and smacked her brother on the side of the head.
“Ow! What the hell, Dee?” Sam demanded as she glared at him.
“What the hell are you sending him over for? She’s gonna eat him alive!” Deanna hissed. Sure enough, when she looked over, not only had that woman started in on him, but she could swear that one of the guys she’d been playing pool with was giving Cas the look as well.
And why that bothered the shit out of her, Deanna had a pretty good idea, but it had gotten shoved to the back of the closet near Narnia at this point, and she didn’t particularly want to pull it out of the mothballs. She took a long swig from her bottle.
Except…the woman seemed to be leaning all up in Cas’s personal space, but Cas wasn’t moving an inch. He still had his pokerface on, but Deanna’s blood was beginning to boil under her skin. She slammed her drink down on the table and slid it over to Sam, the condensation sending it across the table far more quickly than she’d intended. With a wordless exclamation from Sam as Deanna’s drink almost fell into his lap, she muttered “I’ll be right back” and then went to the bar in an attempt to pry that harpy off of her angel. (Deanna conveniently ignored the part of her brain that had put those words into her actual thoughts.)
She grabbed Cas’s wrist, tugging at his trenchcoat sleeve and practically yanking him off the bar stool. “We need to go. Now.”
“Excuse me,” the woman said, standing up quick as could be so she could block their way. “I believe this young man and I were talking. Do you mind?”
“Yeah, actually, I do mind, bitch, so move out of my way.” And if Deanna accidentally knocked into her while she was hauling Cas outside, it wasn’t really her fault.
“What the hell, Cas?” Deanna snapped when they had left the bar and stood outside of it, on the side of the building where there weren’t any windows. “You can’t just go and…let people walk all over you like that!”
Castiel gave her that look of his that clearly said “I’m not going to validate that sentence with a reply because you are obviously drunk”.
“Just—you cannot be—they are not allowed to do that!” And fucking hell, this was why she hated talking beyond anything else, because she could never say what he meant, and it always came out a mess.
“You aren’t making any sense,” Castiel was saying, and no shit Sherlock but Deanna was fed up with the talking, so she grabbed the angel by the shoulders to pull him down and kiss him.
It wasn’t as weird as she’d thought it would be. Granted, she’d kissed a few boys in middle and high school before realizing that women were way more her thing, but it was nothing like those awkward pre-teen makeouts that weren’t really much of anything but an excuse to mash faces together. This was pretty damn intense, all things considered, and fucking hell was Cas quick on the uptake, spinning her around and pushing her up against the nearby wall. It sent a little thrill through her, adrenaline spiking as she gave as good as she got, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth. Once she got past the whole “not a girl, not a guy, seriouslyIammakingoutwithanangelandholySHITthisiscrazy” thought of the whole situation…
She found that she kinda liked it. Really liked it, as a matter of fact.
Finally they broke apart, and Deanna felt rather smug that Cas’s face had gotten all pretty and flushed just from the kissing (and there might have been a few wandering hands here and there, but that was beside the point), and the way his hair was sticking up from her fingers running through it was—okay, it was pretty damn adorable.
“Deanna,” Castiel said, his tone only slightly confused. The argument was obvious in his voice, because even though Cas didn’t see himself as male, he knew that Deanna couldn’t see him otherwise.
“You shut up,” she said, pointing angrily at him. “I do not like guys. I like women. I just also happen to be…Cas-sexual or something. And no, we’re not talking about this.” And with that she grabbed the angel by the back of his head, dragging him down into another kiss.