Chapter Text
The Superbowl is just days away and the city is thrumming with activity. The excitement is palpable, from every jersey donned by man, woman, child, and dog, to the flags and banners hung up at every restaurant and light post. Even Dean’s usually dull office can’t help but get in the spirit.
Usually his cubicle was the only one with any spirit, but now, everyone has at least a Seahawks flag pinned on their wall. People all around him are wearing the trademark blue and green hats, shirts, and one guy even shaved the logo into his hair. It’s a testament to his love for his team and his city that he hasn’t chewed out his coworkers for being bandwagon fans (but really, where was this spirit during the regular season?).
It’s in this spirited atmosphere Dean finds himself the Friday before Super Bowl Sunday. He doesn’t even know why they were required to come in today, no work is getting done. Ellen had brought in blue and green cupcakes which people are currently munching on rather than reviewing their paperwork or making sales calls. Every now and then someone in the depths of the annex calls out a hearty, “SEA!” and the rest of the office answers with the customary, “HAWKS!” And Benny Lafitte is perched on the corner of his desk, talking his ear off about prop bets, over unders, and spreads. Dean shells out a couple of bucks for the box pool after making his predictions.
“Dude, I’m going to clean you out,” Dean laughs. “You’re giving the Hawks much too big of a lead.”
“What can I say, brother? I got faith in my boys.” Benny patted his jersey fondly.
From the other side of the office someone shouts “SEA” and Dean tips his head back and yells as loudly as he can, “HAWKS!”
“For the love of all that is holy, Winchester, can you shut up?” Groans the person in the cubicle across from him. Dean smirks, seems like Castiel has finally cracked. “I deal with your noise during your, shall we say, ‘late night activities’ enough as it is. I expected working with you would be a reprieve from the torture that is living next to you.”
“Aw, c’mon Cas, you love being my neighbor. That’s why you got a job where you can be my cubicle neighbor, too.” Dean walks over to the wall the two of them share, eager to see Castiel’s reaction. Benny shakes his head in warning before he makes his way back to his desk, not wanting to get involved. Everyone all week had gotten into the spirit, even their curmudgeonly grandpa of a boss, Rufus Turner. Everyone had donned their blue and green and shown their Seattle pride. Everyone except for Castiel who had rolled his eyes at his coworkers’ enthusiasm and remained in his normal business casual attire.
“Listen, man,” Dean says as he draws his chin over the dividing wall, “just ‘cause you don’t know shit about football doesn’t mean you gotta be a scrooge about the whole thi-” Dean’s words die in his mouth. Castiel’s cubicle does not look like Castiel’s normal cubicle.
“Something wrong, Dean?” Castiel quirks a cocky grin. Dean gapes. His cubicle is draped in team flags and team colors. He’s even wearing a team jersey.
“You’re a fucking Patriots fan?!” His cubicle is draped in the wrong team flags, the wrong team colors and he’s wearing the wrong team jersey.
“I should’ve known you Seattle fans would have such uncouth language.” Cas has an evil, knowing glint in his eyes. Oh, that bastard was planning this.
“You’re in the wrong town for this bullshit, Novak.” Dean stalks out of his cubicle into Cas’ so he can face off with him like a man.
“Shouldn’t you know that I’m from Boston by now? We’ve lived next to each other for three years, Dean.” Dean shrugs helplessly. So maybe they’ve lived near each other a while and worked next to each other for some time now too. But they’ve only ever hung out a few times, and it was really casual. Something about Cas made Dean nervous, like he didn’t want to fuck things up. He doesn’t often admit it to himself, but he thinks it might have to do with Cas’ sharp, dry wit that Dean’s pretty sure he couldn’t keep up with and maybe (definitely) the sharp blue of his eyes and his dark tousled hair. Dean stamps down on those thoughts, especially after noticing the dark navy of his trashy Patriot’s jersey brings out the color of Cas’ eyes even more.
“Whatever. You’re gonna be sorry you ever showed up in that filth once we crush you on Sunday, Novak.” Dean growls petulantly. “I hope you like seeing pretty boy Brady cry.”
“He is a rather attractive crier.” Cas muses. “Though I prefer the way his ass looks in his uniform.”
Dean chokes on his spit a little. Did Cas just…? Cas like guys? Dean shakes his head, no. He can’t pick and choose what he wants to hear. Cas may have mentioned liking guys but in association with Tom fucking Brady.
“Save a bit of that choking for when you’re choking on your words after we destroy you like we’ve decimated three other teams in past Super Bowls. Two of them consecutive.” Castiel smirks and Dean hates that he’s so attractive to a Patriot’s fan.
“You know what, Novak?” Dean begins.
“Please, enlighten me, Winchester.” Cas bats his eyes and smiles, waiting for Dean to continue. Dean rolls his eyes and continues. Gotta focus on the whole football rivalry, not how attractive said rival is.
“Let’s make it interesting. Loser buys winner dinner.” Dean bites his lip slightly, Cas could very well shut him down right now.
“Are we leaving it only at dinner? Cause I’d be willing to accept more payment when you lose.” Cas raises his eyebrow. Dean hesitates. What did he just imply? Dean nods slowly, his mind working a bit slower than his body.
“We’ll see what you think when you’re the one paying.” Dean winks, seeming more confident than he feels.
“You’re on, Winchester.”
“Looking forward to it, Novak.”