Chapter Text
Maybe there's something to be said for having moves.
Bold ones, which Dean makes, so he gets that. Shameless flirting, he's had Sam rag him on, about, for years; his winks and stories and pick-up lines, the fact Dean gets passed many a phone number on a food receipt or card or Kleenex or even inked on his wrist by the bouncer of a club as he's taken out, hauled in a fireman's carry (that was quite a day) but hey. If it works, it works.
And yet there are times, well. Other people pulling shit in an attempt to flirt is nOt something Dean enjoys.
Least, not when he's witnessing something he should do himself.
Because Castiel, angel of the lord, is Dean Winchester's best friend.
And the smug British bastard, Mack or Mick or whatever the hell his name is, has just given Cas his PERSONAL number, on his business card, even when his associate just got finished beating hell out of - and torturing - Sam.
All of which makes Dean snap out a furious hiss after the dude departs. "Excuse me, what the FUCK was that?!"
Cas tilts his head a little, asks "to what are you referring, Dean?"
"Did - that British dick gave you his number, Cas!"
"He gave me his business card, to discuss cases, I'm sure."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh yeah I'm sure he has lotsa 'business' to discuss." When Cas squints, Dean huffs. "Dude, he said you could take him without breaking a sweat and after you said that crap about not sweating under any circumstances he goes and gives you his card, that was-" Dean can't believe he has to be the one to tell the angel that was such an obvious attempt---
But Cas withdraws the card from his pocket and notes the inked message of 'call me, cheers' and his eyes widen. "Oh. That was - flirting, then?"
Dean heaves out a burst of breath and throws up his hands. "YES, Cas, he was flirting with you!"
Cas squints at Dean and directs the card at him while asking (but more as a deadpan statement than with the uplift of a question --- as he had asked, years ago, if Dean thought he didn't deserve to be saved), "And this upsets you...?"
Dean scoffs, opens and and closes his mouth a couple times, shaking his head and blinking before growling "what the f-- YEAH, it upsets me!" Because I do shit a lot less desperate than that was an' you don't... he always thought Cas didn't notice. Angel brain, not wired to flirt. But clearly he at least knows or can figure out what flirting IS, so. What the hell.
Cas tucks the card away and is focused on doing so whilst responding with a quiet sigh, "Dean... I would say you could do the same if it bothers you, but seeing as we already know each other, that's pretty redundant." And he finishes with a laser focus on Dean with not precisely a pitying or frustrated look, but his brows are creased. His feathers, so to speak, are ruffled.
Dean just - stops functioning for a second and then says softly "wait, really?" before his own features scrunch in response. "And what is thAt look for, huh?"
Cas rolls his head a little as he shifts, then huffs, "Perhaps you could explain why you're directing your umbrage towards me, Dean." He scowls just subtly, inclining his head in the hunter's direction. "Prior to your outburst, I had no knowledge of nor held any intention of pursuing his affections, so I'd appreciate it if you enlightened me on why you're speaking so laconically."
"Because - jesus, Cas, you - we're -" Dean can't find the words he wants, swallowing over and over as his mom talks softly to Sam (which he feels relieved about, last thing he wants to deal with right now is Sam's bitchy teasing or even his mom trying to figure out what's going on with Cas and him). He just feels a squeezing in his chest, recalling how Cas picked flowers and brought them on dates and how he can never articulate for the life of him anything even remotely romantic -- not even cause it'd be a chick-flick moment, but because...hell, he can't make himself do it. He's - and he oughta know, as Sam gives him crap for it all the time - silent about his sentiments.
And there, that's a big part 'a the problem. What Dean wants to say, but can't. He shouldn't be flirting with you, he isn't yours, I am! But Dean opens and closes his fists and chokes on those words. Dean can't even say or think that Cas is HIS, it's just that he is Cas's; because he still can't let himself have things that make him happy, or at least admit to wanting those things - like Cas's attention, and... alright, his love.
Yet Dean wants that, so bad.
Castiel's expression falters. He swears he feels a sort of displacement in the air when Dean tenses, his own body slouching slightly as his eyes fall vaguely towards his pocket. He's not certain if his next few words will do any harm or ease Dean's trepidations, but the angel utters, "It's only contact information, Dean." Carefully, he removes the card from his jacket, pinches it between his index and thumb, and holds it out for his friend to take. There's an unspoken message, implicit, of 'it won't hurt you' in the manner in which he holds the small rectangle; though the angel would much rather Dean understand... that neither would he.
Dean shakes his head sharply. "It ain't about the information, dammit. And it ain't about the card." Dean's jaw jumps as he clamps his mouth shut. It's about the fact Cas TOOK the damned thing. Of course he doesn't know the implications, and he didn't want to be rude. That's just who Cas is, and Dean shouldn't get so eaten up by this, but ...he can't help it.
Cas continues to hold his arm out, though there's a flicker of discomfort that crosses his expression when Dean doesn't take the card. His eyes nearly burrow a hole into the ink on paper then with as much intensity as his now simmering core, and when he breathes through his nose, the air burns his nostrils. Ultimately he lowers his arm, fingers automatically grasping and beginning to crumple the card before he forces himself to stop. He doesn't bother hiding his irritation when he retorts in a subdued bass, "I'm not so obtuse as to believe you're specifically angry over words on a card, Dean. I already told you that I was and am not interested—" Then, sharply, he jerks his head to the side, blue eyes bright even behind slitted lids, "—but please, feel free to continue escalating something unnecessarily instead of taking my word as is." Then, as if singed by his own words, he pulls his head back, bowing it and dropping his eyes a bit, studying the ground. Softer, the gruffness now present betraying his hurt, "I would've thought we'd be past this.... I'm an angel– I'm not an idiot."
Dean inhales. Pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Ah, hell. "Cas, I'm not sayin - I know you're not an idiot, man." I am. This is on me, an' I can't even friggin sAY - "...what I'm tryin' to say is," swallowing hard and dropping his fingers from his nose, Dean steps closer to Cas, reaching out to him. He chokes on the rest of the words and swallows them, cannot get them out.
"Dean..." Castiel starts cautiously, voice rigid, as if it were a warning. His is a lightning fast reaction. Something in the man's words seems to have struck the angel in a way that even his eyes suddenly appear somewhat desaturated— or perhaps his skin is slightly more flushed...? And he instantly steps back the moment Dean gets close. His eyes fall and frantically search before finding his friend's face again. He shouldn't be, especially around Dean of all beings, but his whole body erupts into a cold spell of unease.
'I'm uncomfortable, please stop talking,' part of him wanted to say. It's just the card. He knows... he KNOWS it's not...it surely cannot be about anything else. Dean must be— he MUST be— upset about him taking the card. That's all. That's it, right? Let it be that. Let it be something he can handle. Don't... he can't let himself be hopeful... and of all things to become so—...it is a card. Over a card.
In desperation, he holds out the slightly wrinkled card again, head barely tilted south. "Dean. I understand," he attempts, something else layering his tone. He jerks his arm for emphasis, holding his breath when he senses Sam's eyes on them now from a distance. A plea. "I shouldn't have taken it."
Dean shakes his head, again. Doesn't even know about angels dating, if that's even a thing in Heaven, but they're on Earth and what if Cas wanted - he doesn't want to shut down something Cas wants, but. Hell, who is he to dictate what the guy wants, anyway? Particularly because, no matter what Dean himself wants, he can't say it.
Castiel lets out his breath in an uneven staccato, his countenance losing its tension. Something in his eyes, though brief, makes him appear lost. He's quick to brush this off not even a second later, his turn now to wordlessly step forward and toss the card onto the table behind Dean. He doesn't meet Dean's eyes when he turns and pulls away, taking his leave in determined steps and with a small, "excuse me." Glaring at the floor with furrowed brow as he turns a corner, unknowingly tilting his head as he ponders what Dean had been asking of him. Refusing to take it meant... what, especially when Dean expressly stated he didn't want Cas to do so earlier...? He may not be an idiot, but he certainly feels like one.
Dean jerks as Cas retreats, his body moving as though he'd been stabbed or shot between the shoulder blades, and damn it, what the hell was he, IS he doing??
Dean closes his eyes and expels a grunting groan of breath. He looks back at Sammy and their mother, sees the way Sam leans, almost sags into her as his eyes still look dazed and shocked to even see her. Dean knows the feeling.
But he also knows that he can't go to his brother right now. Or, he's not gonna. With a nod, he asks with voice rough though a little raised "You good, Sam?"
Sam's head lifts, hair swings. "Y-yeah," he sniffs and clears his throat before settling his shoulders, nostrils flaring a little as he breathes. Glancing down at their mom, he settles, relaxes. "...Yeah, I think so."
"Good," Dean grunts out. "'Cause if you are I'm gonna -"
"Go," Mary speaks up firmly, and Dean pauses with mouth open in a circle as he blinks, eyes widening. Her voice is firm but her eyes are soft as she adds to her eldest son, "Go talk to him, Dean."