Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dean would start by saying that it was a normal day.

Well, as normal as it could get with the life they have. Coffee was brewing in the ancient looking pot by the stove, clean clothes were folded up nice and neat at the end of his bed, and the shower was distributing hot water, on the verge of scolding but not quite.

Just the way he liked it.

The temperature was steaming up the bathroom like a sauna, clearing Dean’s mind and muddled thoughts, and for the first time in a long, damn time- Dean felt rested. He even scrubbed his whole body in the shower using strong lavender soap he had earned as a reward for buying these certain types of towels Sam wanted a couple months ago. He’d been to afraid to use it up till now, knowing Sam would have some sort of dickish comment to throw his way. But today was different. Even his ears were squeaky clean, but for once Dean didn’t care about smelling like some girly chick. This was his day. He would simply relax. Maybe watch some TV in the makeshift living room they finally got around to assembling in one of the larger rooms in the Bunker, grill up some burgers, convince Sam to run out and grab them some pie...

Yeah, this was a good day.

Until Sam had to ruin it all.

“So, get this,” Sam starts, ambling into the kitchen on long legs, with his shiny hair combed back and his eyebrows up in that way they did when he had important to say. He has a laptop in hand and the bright screen is reflecting in his eyes and it’s a wonder that he hasn’t gone blind yet.

Dean looks up from where he is seated at the table, scooping a big spoon full of frosted flakes into his mouth. Milk dribbles down his chin like he’s five and Sam gives him a look of pure disgust. “What?” Dean tries to say.

Sam shoots him a scrutinizing bitch face. “Gross, Dean,” he says, but Dean just waves his hand in a ‘carry on’ motion.

Rolling his eyes, Sam continues saying, “Anyway, I think I found a case. In New York City.”

Dean squints at his brother, already annoyed that his perfect day is, well, coming to an end pretty damn quick. “Whoa, hold up. New York? Doesn’t Garth have some hunter buddies workin’ the cases up there?”

“Usually, but he called saying that there’s a big case down in Texas that required all of the guys up in the metropolitan area. He’s low on hunters so he’s asking us for a favor.” Sam pours himself some water, totally ignoring the perfectly fine pot of coffee on the counter.

“Guess we’re headed to New York,” Dean says, giving a sarcastic smile before sticking another mound of frosted goodness into his mouth. “So, what’s up?”

“Vampire, I think,” Sam says, sitting across from Dean and concentrating on the screen in front of him. “Bodies have been piling up around a movie set the past few weeks. Before Garth called the guys working on the other case, they found out that the killer has to be one of the actors.”

“So that makes our job a helluva lot harder,” Dean grumbles.

His head is starting to go from lucid to about as clear as mud. The perfect day is officially down the drain and the lavender scent still clinging to Dean’s skin smells too happy all of a sudden. “Well, it’ll be the most fun we’ve had in a while,” Sam says, trying to smile.

“Where are you going?”

Dean looks up to see Cas in the door way and he’s surprised as he peers into crystal blue eyes that are red-ringed and tired. “Look who finally quit bingeing Netflix,” Sam says, grinning at his friend.

“Yes, sadly I finished a new show and now I feel quite down,” Cas admits, padding into the kitchen in sock clad feet, the sleeves of his button up rolled up to the elbow and his hair a whole new style of crazy.

It surprises Dean, how Cas can seem so human without that trench coat, how mortal he appears. But even with the exhausted circles under his eyes, he’s damn right beautiful, and he never fails to give off the aura of cracking energy whenever he enters the room. Dean clears his throat, ignoring the warmth traveling through his body.

He tries not to let his thoughts slip from inside his head and out of his mouth, rather standing up to go set his bowl in the industrial sized sink.

“So where will you be traveling?” Cas asks, the shuffling of his feet moving towards Dean.

He leans up against the island, hip digging into the edge of the counter as he watches with thoughtful blue eyes as Dean scrubs out his bowl. It’s so… casual. Almost run-of-the-mill when Cas’ shoulders are relaxed, and he doesn’t have that one damn eyebrow plucked high. And Dean must be fucking sixteen again, because he feels his neck burning and he hopes Cas doesn’t see. But he should be used to Cas’ staring, so he tries his best to act nonchalant.

“New York,” Sam answers. “Found a case. Hey, you wanna join?”

Dean’s heart pounds and frankly, his brain is short-circuiting, because he wants Cas to come join them while also wanting to force him to stay. And it doesn’t make sense, because this is just a case. Just their normal, everyday gig. A run-of-the-mill case that is making his lower back sweat, his t-shirt sticking.

“Maybe…” Cas looks back at the doorway longingly, probably towards his bedroom where Netflix is waiting for him.

Dean sighs, making up his mind. He won’t let Cas deplete, alone, with only the companion of self-loathing and confusing television. He knows Cas isn’t feeling so great about himself lately and sitting in his room day and night isn’t healthy. “Cas, buddy, you need some fresh air and a good kill,” Dean says, setting the bowl at the bottom of the sink so he can turn and look at Cas. “You’ve been cooped up in that damn room for a long time.”

“But—”

“Cas, I swear, I will shut off the Wi-Fi.”

Cas huffs, crossing his arms. He can even hear Sam’s fearful gasp behind him. The scowl on Cas’ face is somehow adorable, but Dean won’t let himself break eye contact.

“Fine,” Cas finally agrees.

“Great. We leave in two hours.” Dean can’t help winking, clapping the angel on the shoulder before heading out of the kitchen. He leaves a flushed Castiel behind and Dean smirks to himself, imagining grumpy Cas in his bed, with that same scowl, that same pout. It’s strange how endearing such a thing is, but none of this is new to Dean.

Even if it is slightly terrifying.

____________________________

“I’m missing the finale of Dancing with the Stars,” Cas finally complains from the backseat, only an hour into the ride.

A few seconds pass before Sam starts cracking up. “You watch that show?”

“Yes, Sam,” Cas says, leaning up to stick his head in between the two brothers. “It is intriguing to watch two platonic partners learn to be compatible and fabricate a dance routine that will carry them onto the next round in a short period of time.”

Dean grins and shakes his head in amusement. Damn angels and their reality television fetishes. He glances over at Sam who is grinning like it’s the funniest damn thing in the whole universe. “I gotta admit, it’s binge-worthy, Sammy,” Dean inputs and he looks up at the rearview mirror, catching the hint of a rare smile on Cas’ face.

Dean loves seeing Cas smile, especially when he’s the cause. It makes him happ-

Oh.

Then he’s like a deer caught in the headlights, freezing up, and the Impala swerves. “Dean!” Sam yells.

Dean jerks the wheel back into the correct position before apologizing, saying that he saw a rabbit.

When really, it was like he was seeing a huge fucking sign in the middle of the road that says, “Oh look, you’re in love with Castiel!”

Oh. Fuck.

Ever since the Mark of Cain had been removed from his right arm, it was like Dean had become softer, his feelings and emotions finally able to crawl back into his mind from the deep pit he had stuffed them into. He has begun to think of what he wants and instead of bloodlust running through his veins, it’s something delicate and wistful. Unattainable. He wants a future.

A future that includes a house, maybe a golden retriever, a couple of kids, Cas… Yeah, he had been thinking about Cas a lot more often. Every single movement the angel made was filed away in Dean’s brain, tucked into a folder that was solely constructed and chock full of Castiel.

His bright and rare smile, his deadpanning, innocent badass moments that got Dean hot every single time he thought about them. And that damn eyebrow of his.

It was everything he had catalogued over the past years, both consciously and not. And the thing was- it didn’t bother Dean one bit. These petty thoughts and desires that could never really happen. He relished in them and that gave him a sort of happiness, even if he had resigned within himself a real possibility. He hadn’t felt this way since Lisa and even then, he knew that it wouldn’t last.

But with Cas, Dean sort of believes. He peers up again at the mirror, and at the sight of sunlight against Cas’ cheek as the angel gazes out the window, he thinks, “I’m so in love with you.”

That’s what scared him though. Knowing that this happiness could be ripped away at any second like an urgent bandage that could stick to your skin forever if left alone, but once it’s gone, you’re left with nothing but a small patch of what used to be.

Dean would be left with nothing. Again.

So that’s why Dean keeps quiet, because he’s already dragged Cas through enough crap, already hurt him enough. Already pulled him into his own silly little problems. Dean locks up his feelings, but this time, he doesn’t completely obliterate them. Because maybe it hurts a little less.

___________________

Dean must admit, it’s difficult to drive through a bustling city full of people rather than the back roads where there was a chance that an animal could randomly dart into your path. Possible something majestic, like a deer or maybe a turtle.

Nope, no deer here.

No wild life at all, unless Cas finally convinces them to go to the zoo and help all the creatures escape from their confinements. But both Sam and Dean know that that would cause much larger issues than the one at hand so they are forced to silence Cas’ pleading.

That earns them another adorable huff and Dean shifts in his seat.

As they officially arrive in New York City, Dean can’t help it. “Welcome to New York. It’s been waiting for you!” Dean sings, bobbing his head.

He totally has the T-swift vibe going on, but Sam is not convinced. “Are you seriously singing a Taylor Swift song?”

“Shut up. You wouldn’t know good music if it bit you in the ass.”

Sam rolls his eyes, going back to staring out the window.

“So what movie set are the bodies being found at?” Cas pipes up from the backseat. Maybe Taylor Swift has a way to cure even the grumpiest of angels.

“Some movie called Roses are Red. Apparently it’s a pretty large production that could go under if the bodies keep piling up,” Sam answers, already pulling out his sleek little laptop.

“Really?” Dean says, staring at the shiny surface of the computer.

“What?”

“How the hell do you have three bars already?”

Sam just grins and Dean grumbles something under his breath, peering out of the windshield to begin the search for a motel. But all he can see are pulsing lights, traffic stretching ten miles long on every side and fancy hotels where they can’t even afford a fucking bottle of water. “Since you’re apparently Ben Franklin now, think you can look up where to find a damn motel?” Dean asks, honking the horn as some idiot suddenly pulls out in front of them, a phone pressed up against their ear.

“Dean, you’re gonna have to leave the Impala in a parking garage if we’re going to get anywhere,” Sam says.

“Like hell I’m leaving her in a place like that!” Dean says gruffly. He hunches over the wheel, making sure that no moving object comes within five feet of Baby’s pristine paint job. “She could get stolen or some bastard could back up into her.”

“Then we’ll just find one where security is top notch,” Sam argues, giving Dean yet another bitch face.

Dean sighs. This case is already beginning to suck, and even Taylor isn’t helping now.

And he officially hates New York.

______________________

After careful researching at Dean’s demand, Sam finds a parking garage that Dean seems to sort of approve of. He pulls into the dark building, parking her far enough away from any douche bags that could come speeding around a corner while also keeping her in the public eye so nobody breaks in and gets her up and running before someone turns up to stop the culprit.

“I’ll be back, Baby,” Dean whispers, running his hand over the Impala’s roof before tearing his eyes away, already contemplating if he should just stay here and camp out in the backseat.

Cas hesitates before patting the hood in a seemingly loving manner. “Good bye,” he says, smiling at her, and Dean gives him an approving smile, his heart growing three more sizes.

“Let’s try and haul a cab,” Sam says, shutting his lap top and stuffing it into his bag.

“Try not to get some creepy ass driver,” Dean mumbles, grabbing both his and Cas’ bag from the trunk.

“I’ll try.”

“Dean, I am capable of carrying my own bag,” Cas says, following at Dean’s heels, hand wrapping around one of the straps.

“Yeah, well it’s already in my hand,” Dean answers weakly, yanking it from Cas’ grip, blushing at the realization of how domestic this conversation is.

“You are very stubborn today,” Cas says, trying to grab his bag again, but Dean jerks it out of his way.

“Usually.”

He almost winks again, but he thinks better of it.

____________________

Sam finds the cheapest hotel he can near the movie set, all the others packed to the brim with fans dying to get a glimpse of some hot head actors. “I guess we won’t be pretending to be adoring fans then,” Dean says to Cas while they wait for Sam to smuggle them a few rooms.

Dean tries not to think about the cab ride here. The way Cas’ thigh was pressed up against his, the accidental brushing of their hands as they both went to set it down in the non-existent space between them. How Cas moved his away, staring out the window and leaving Dean’s brain on high alert. His thoughts are racing again, and he wonders what Cas is feeling, if he knows…

Cas leans forward to look at the extending line of fans outside of the hotel across the street. “FBI agents then?”

“Maybe,” Dean answers, observing the way Cas’ hair curls a tiny bit behind his ear. “Maybe reporters looking for a hot scoop would be better.”

“Guys,” Sam calls and they scurry after him.

He leads them up multiple flights of stairs and down a long hallway before stopping in front of two doors. “The best I could do was two rooms, one with twins,” Sam says, handing Dean a small key.

“Twins, huh?” Dean jokes and Sam gives him, yet again, another bitch face.

He must practice in the mirror every morning, because it’s deadly.

“I vote that I get my own room, because I’ve already had to put up with enough of your shit today,” Sam says, smiling, and before Dean can protest, he disappears into one of the rooms.

But not before Dean catches a glimpse of a King-sized bed.

“That fucker,” Dean mumbles, looking over at Cas, “Now we’re stuck with twins. No, uh, pun intended.”

Sam must be teaching Cas all his moves, because Dean also receives a bitch face from him. Dean tries to make another joke, but Cas rolls his eyes. Cas grabs the key from his hand, brushing Dean’s palm with fingertips. A shiver runs down Dean’s spine and he sighs.

The simple touch shouldn’t make his body quake with that much desire.

Cas unlocks the door and Dean immediately throws the bags onto one bed before heading towards the mini fridge. “Bingo!” He exclaims, holding up two beers.

The room is simple, the wallpaper cream and the pillows and covers a crisp white, perfectly ironed. It’s nicer than their average motel room and Dean is grateful, even if the overall review of the hotel isn’t that great when it comes to staff friendliness. He plops down on the other bed, motioning for Cas to sit next to him. He offers a beer and Cas thanks him, taking it slowly. Dean grunts and pops the cap off before taking a long pull. “Ah, that hits the spot,” he concludes, looking over at Cas who hasn’t even opened his beer yet.

Cas looks up sheepishly, blue eyes clear, like a running stream. “Dean—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

A fully-grown angel who can’t even open a goddamn beer shouldn’t be adorable, but it is.

___________________

“If we’re going in as reporters, we’re all going to need some new clothes,” Sam says, getting comfortable on one of the beds.

Cas is fiddling with the knobs on the television, trench coat off and lying abandoned on a chair. Muscles strain under the fabric as Cas squats in front of the screen, and Dean has to look away for his own sake.

Dean is on his second beer and he relaxes into the familiar feeling of warm alcohol settling in his belly. “Why the hell do we need new clothes?” Dean asks.

Sam sighs, as if it should be obvious. Which is probably true, but Dean is back to watching Cas and his deft fingers toying with the knobs, his eyes a much brighter blue from the reflection of the screen. The way his shoulders move through his jacket, head tilted, brow furrowed…

“Dean, we’re in New York. The only way we’d be able to get in the parking lot is if we have some clothes that don’t have holes and bloodstains on them.”

“Guess you’re right…”

Cas smiles as he successfully lands on the Geography Channel and he sits down next to Dean on the bed, eyes locked on the penguins waddling across the screen. Dean smiles, tipping his head back to drain the last bit of beer in the bottle. “So, are we gonna go shopping or something?”

Sam clacks across his keyboard for a moment before answering. “Yeah, then we could go grab a bite to eat cause I don’t trust the room service in this place one bit, especially after I pissed off the lady at the front desk.”

“Alright.” Dean stands up and stretches, his back muscles popping. God, he’s getting too old for this shit.

He looks down at Cas who is still engrossed by the captivating sight of mommy and daddy penguins and his heart clenches. “Cas, we’re leaving man.”

“But the male penguins were just beginning to incubate the eggs for the stark winter blowing through the-”

“I wish I knew what that meant, but you’ll just have to wait until we get back.”

Cas stands slowly, looking defeated, and pulls on his trench coat. How is it even possible to put on another layer seductively?

__________________

“Dean, I don’t know what I am supposed to be searching for,” Cas says as Dean whips through the clothing rack, metal hangers screeching obnoxiously. The manager is giving him a stern look, but Dean is too engrossed in Castiel now. “I don’t even know what size my clothes should be…”

Dean looks over at Cas who looks like a lost puppy. Oh, Cas has never done this before. “Um…” Dean takes a guess, leading the angel over to another rack of clothes that looks promising. “Go through this, pick out a few things then come find me and we’ll, uh, try it on.”

Cas nods, smiling in gratitude, and then he carefully begins to look through the clothes. Dean walks away, wondering what Cas would look like in leather.

He manages to find a few shirts and jeans that could possibly be acceptable, but he’ll have to stick with his FBI shoes, even though they have a few dents and claw marks. Dean looks around and sees Sam helping Cas out on the other side of the store. He’s smiling, like Cas just made a joke. Or maybe because he also thinks that Cas’ lips are kissable…

Wait, ugh. This was getting out of hand. And the thought of his brother kissing Cas somehow offers a bout of jealousy and disgust.

Dean strides over and leans against the wall near a few shelves filled with neat stacks of shirts. “Find anything?”

“Yes, Sam helped me pick out many items that are acceptable,” Cas says, smiling.

“Awesome. Well, I’m gonna go try on this stuff so holler if you need me.”

As he turns and walks away, he hears Cas say, “Why would I need to holler?”

Dean snorts to himself, earning another death stare from the manager.

__________________

Dean doesn’t see what Cas picked out, but he trusts Sam enough to know that it isn’t totally… Cas. It is a bit strange seeing Cas with bags full of clothes hanging from the crook of his elbow, leaning against the wall outside while they wait for Sam to check out and pay, his trench coat thrown over his other arm as he types out something on his phone.

Who does Cas even talk to?

“So,” Sam says, walking out of the store, also on his phone. “Where do you guys want to eat?”

“I could go for a juicy steak right about now,” Dean says, scratching the back of his head.

“Me too,” Cas agrees.

“Uh, Cas, you don’t eat,” Sam says gently and Cas frowns.

“I’m still weak after Metatron took some of my grace,” he admits, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “My grace is still intact, but lately I have been succumbing to human desires. Such as craving food.”

“Oh.” Dean’s eyebrows go up in surprise, trying not to let his mind run to other desires Cas may be having.

Cas nods, tilting his head at Dean.

“Well, then let’s go and find a place that offers a kickin’ steak,” Dean exclaims with a boyish grin.

“Why would we want to find a steak that kicks?”

Sam and Dean share a smile.

____________________

Dean flops back onto his bed with a sigh, placing a hand over his stomach. “That steak was pretty damn good man,” he says to Cas, who is back to messing with the television.

“Yes, it was,” Cas agrees. “But I would have rather preferred a cheeseburger.”

Dean laughs and closes his eyes. “You’re right about that, as long as it had bacon on it.”

At the restaurant, Cas had sort of frozen when it was his turn to order, and Dean had ordered for him, not even thinking twice. After the waiter left, Sam had given him this look. A look that Dean didn’t like. “What?” He grumbled, staring at the dessert menu.

“Nothing,” Sam said, smiling.

Throughout the rest of the night, Sam had been shooting Dean these awful doe-eyed looks and grins, looking back and forth between him and Cas. Dean doesn’t completely understand why, but he does know that it has something to do with Cas. And him. And ordering for the guy without even being told to or what to get. And Cas enjoying the hell out of his meal, slipping a small grin towards Dean after moaning through a piece of chocolate cake. And now, Dean tries to forget it, because it probably means absolutely nothing.

A few minutes later, he turns his head to watch Cas, who is back to staring at the television with utter fascination. “Hey, uh, since you eat and stuff, do you also sleep?”

Cas looks at him with his head tilted and shrugs his shoulders. “Occasionally. Tonight, I will most likely rest. I feel tired from all the walking.”

“And what are you gonna sleep in?”

“This?”

Dean sits up and looks at him. “Dude, if you’re going to sleep then you might as well be comfy.”

“This is all I own, Dean,” Cas says, sighing. “Besides the clothes I purchased today, but those are not adequate sleepwear.”

Standing up, Dean walks over to his bag and rummages through it and without thinking, says, “Here,” and throws a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants at Cas who catches them, confused.

“I—”

“Just wear ‘em.”

Cas looks at him and then the clothes. He gets up slowly and then, affirming that Dean isn’t kidding around, he heads into the bathroom. Dean smiles and pulls on his own sweatpants. He sits back down on the bed, running his hands through his hair with a yawn. Without the distraction of the constant throbbing from the Mark of Cain, Dean finally feels like he can drift off to sleep at night. Everything about getting rid of that damn thing has been for the better, and Dean is back to enjoying the simple pleasures that he had forgotten.

And with that thought, Cas walks out of the bathroom and Dean must hold it together, breathing in sharply, because Cas is wearing Dean’s clothes.

He really didn’t think this through.

Because Cas doesn’t just look good in his clothes—he looks pretty damn right in them. On Dean, bottoms tend to be tighter around his waist and slouch around his bowed legs, but on Cas, they cling to sharp hipbones and run tight across muscled thighs, the t-shirt tight in all the right places and oh…

Dean wonders why he thought this was a good idea.

“They fit,” Dean croaks, voice an octave higher than normal.

“They do,” Cas agrees, oblivious to the thoughts running through Dean’s mind.

He smiles and walks over to his bed, getting under the covers, and it’s such a shame, because Dean would have like to look a little longer.

Dean opens his mouth and closes it promptly. There are so many things he wants to say right now. He wants to climb into bed next to the blue-eyed angel, wants to press close to other’s body, wants to whisper sweet words of adoration into Cas’ hair and fall asleep with him. But he doesn’t do that. He never does.

He settles on, “G’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

He turns off the lamp and drifts off to the sound of Cas’ light snoring. As if Cas in his clothes wasn’t adorable enough.

_____________________________

Dean almost has a fucking heart attack the next morning.

And he clearly has a strong fetish for Cas in clothes that accentuate, because the outfit Cas picked out for the case is… Well, let’s just say that it compliments Cas in all the right ways.

Dean picked out a black button up, dark jeans and a red tie and he looks nice and professional. Like a normal reporter. No harm in that.

No, the only harm that came to Dean was seeing Cas in tight jeans and a maroon Henley that revealed tan, strong forearms, the top two buttons popped open to reveal a tan column of hickey worthy neck and a sharp collar bone. Oh…

Yeah, Dean has failed again.

Cas had just walked out of the bathroom, fixing the sleeves of his cotton shirt, hair mussed up in that sexy way that Dean really, really enjoys. And Dean had just frozen, entranced by how damn good Cas looked without that fucking trench coat and baggy dress pants.

Yep. He definitely has a thing for Cas, if that wasn’t obvious before.

“What?” Cas asks, tilting his head, and Dean snaps back into reality.

“Oh, uh, nothing… You just look really good. Professional, I mean.”

Of course, his brain’s antics were back, not dowsed into non-existence from another well-rested night. Great.

Cas blushes, cheeks actually going a bit red, and as he turns away Dean does not check out his ass. Not at all.

“You look good too, Dean,” Cas says softly, and Dean’s heart clenches again and he feels warm everywhere.

But they’re saved from the silence that follows by Sam barging into their room. “Wow, Cas,” he says, stopping in his tracks. “You look great!”

“Thank you, Sam.” Cas gives him a small smile and sits on the bed, pulling on his new dress shoes easily.

“I made us some new badges and arranged Garth as our go-to-guy in case anything goes wrong or someone starts to ask questions,” Sam explains.

He hands them both their badges and Dean takes a peek at the picture Sam chose. That bastard. This picture is not very flattering, with his nostrils flared awkwardly and his smile that of a psychopath.

After shooting Sam a dirty look and receiving one of purely fake innocence, Dean jabs the badge into his back pocket. “Let’s get this over with,” Dean says.

On the way out the door, Cas brushes past him, hand slipping over his back, and Dean’s entire body ignites with something fierce.

This was going to be a very long day.

_______________________

The set of Roses are Red has people rushing past them, going to unknown locations, delivering coffee, wiping makeup on and from glowing skin and wrapping hair around hot objects. It gets Dean thinking about Sam with curly hair and that would be an intriguing sight, so he tucks that lovely little prank away in his mind. Security was difficult to get past, but with Dean’s irrevocable charm and maybe a bit of Sam’s authoritative stature and being ten feet tall, they eventually got in and now Dean is really regretting this whole thing.

He’s not going to lie— he’s used to the looks he gets and even to the ones Sam often received, but suddenly everyone was second glancing when Cas passed, looking him up and down with goggling eyes, mouths practically watering. The women Dean could handle, kind of, but most of the onlookers were men and that bothered Dean the most.

Dean glares at every single one of them, almost punching one raunchy looking man with green hair who is basically undressing Cas with his eyes. But Cas must be fucking oblivious, because he admires the sets and the important looking people as if nothing is going on and Sam keeps giving Dean weird looks. Dean brushes them off, too busy searching for anyone who dares to look twice.

“Okay,” Sam starts, “so there are a lot of actors, so we will have to figure out a plan to narrow down those who could possibly be the killer. I think—“

“Holy shit.”

Both Sam and Dean whip their heads around to stare at Cas in shock, because the angel rarely curses so when he does, it’s a nerve-wracking revelation. Cas doesn’t notice, his attention latched onto something else, eyes wide and plush lips parted in some emotion and… is that awe?

“It’s Robbie Vines!” Cas hisses, covering his mouth with one hand.

“Who the hell is Robbie Vines?” Dean asks, gathering closer to Cas just because he can.

Cas turns to him and he looks so good that Dean is caught off track before— “He’s the main character of this one TV show I binge-watched and he’s my favorite actor and holy tower of Babel, I can’t believe it’s him!” Cas rambles on, voice higher than usual and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I- I have to go meet him!”

Then Cas is hurrying away, Dean left behind, dumbstruck. “He has a favorite actor?!” Dean questions aloud, turning to Sam who also looks quite flabbergasted.

“Yeah… And I think he’s one of our suspects,” Sam says, gesturing to where Cas is headed.

They both watch as Cas pads over slowly to a man sitting in one of those fancy actor chairs that Dean has always wanted. From here, Dean can see that the guy is incredibly handsome, with slicked back black hair and a sharp jaw line, skin golden and lips red. He’s studying a script, mouthing the words and it’s sort of captivating…

Well, if Dean was into pompous asses, because Robbie is clearly one of those actors.

Cas steps closer to the chair and Robbie finally looks up and suddenly he is flashing the brightest smile Dean has ever witnessed, teeth in a perfectly straight line and it’s so damn flirtatious and oh hell no.

Robbie is flirting with Dean’s angel and that is not acceptable.

Cas is smiling, bashful, looking shy and adorable and Robbie is leaning forward, way too close for Dean to be comfortable. Robbie holds out his hand and Cas shakes it slowly and it takes Robbie a very long time to let go of it, which is totally rude in Dean’s book, because you can’t just keep somebody from taking their hand back, that’s just so-

“Wow, Robbie is really taking to Cas,” Sam says, laughing as if this is the most normal thing in the whole world, as if it’s perfectly fine when it’s not.

“Yeah, too much,” Dean snaps and Sam looks over with an eyebrow raised.

“Dean… Are you jealous?”

Sam steps closer, the hint of a smirk on his stupid face and Dean stutters. “No! I just- the guy could be a vampire, Sammy! What if he’s already planning his next victim and it ends up being Cas?”

His blood is boiling, but Sam just sighs. “Cas is perfectly safe, Dean. We’re standing thirty feet away and we don’t know that Robbie is the vamp. Look, he’s coming back.”

Dean looks up to see Cas heading towards them, staring at a picture clutched in his hands. “He gave me his autograph!” Cas exclaims once he reaches them, tone happy and light and Dean is flaring.

“That bastard,” Dean grumbles and he takes a step towards the actor, but Sam grabs his sleeve.

“What?” Cas asks, smile fading and head tilting.

“He could be the fricken vampire, Cas, that’s what!” Dean says, flailing his arms up like a crazy person and if he gets a few stares… Well, they’re all idiots anyway.

Cas’ eyebrows scrunch together. “Oh…?”

Sam looks apologetic and Dean crosses his arms. He’s alone in this and he’s starting to feel agitated. “Mr. Right doesn’t seem so perfect now, does he?”

Cas looks back at Robbie, who is already watching him from one of the sets. Cas smiles sheepishly and if they weren’t so far away, Dean would swear that the actor winked.

“But- but it’s Robbie Vines!”

Dean huffs and spins on his heel, walking the opposite way. “Dean,” Sam starts, but Dean puts up his hand.

“Let’s just figure out who the damn thing is and get out of here.”

He glances back to see Sam giving him yet another bitch face and Cas looking extremely downcast, shoulders drooping as he gazes down at the picture in his hands longingly. Dean knows he’s being an asshole, but he doesn’t give one shit, because the only thing on his mind is how he’s going to rip Robbie Vines to shreds.

Even if the guy isn’t a vamp.

_________________________________

Dean doesn’t get a chance to kill Robbie though because suddenly, after waiting for hours to get Robbie alone and test him out, a scream echoes through the set. Another victim has popped up and Robbie was busy shooting a scene when it happened.

After checking out the body, Dean sighs loudly in annoyance, because this means Robbie isn’t the vampire.

And Dean had really hoped that it was him.

“Dammit!” He yells, and a few people look over at him, alarmed.

“Dean-”

“Yeah, I know Sam,” Dean says, prattling on without thinking, “Robbie was busy doing his stupid acting thing when the body showed up. Yes, I was wrong and Mr. Right is back to being a perfect asshole.”

Cas squints at him angrily, but Dean avoids looking him in the eye, knowing how Cas can both look incredibly sexy and terrifying at the same time when he’s mad. Dean doesn’t know why his jealousy is so out of control. Robbie is just an actor and some guy who could answer a few questions. Not threatening at all. He probably has tons of fans who have the same deep-set blue eyes and sex hair as Cas.

Yeah. So many.

“Guess we have to investigate some more…” Sam says cautiously.

He’s watching Dean out of the corner of his eye as his brother plops down in a chair, ready to leap onto him if anything gets out of control. And right now, Dean does not feel in control. And that’s stupid, because Cas is right here, less than a foot away, watching him warily and Robbie nowhere in sight—

“Hey, Cas!” A deep voice calls and they all look over to see fucking Robbie bounding towards them on long legs, strutting like he owns the world, like he’s the best thing since grated cheese.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t bounding. Or strutting. But he’s about as tall as Sam so Dean’s brain automatically goes to that specific verb.

And Robbie’s still an asshole. And hey, who gave him the right to give Cas a nickname!?

“Oh, hello,” Cas says, and he flushes red.

Is he blushing!?

Dean growls and Sam gives him a look.

“I’m sorry about having to leave earlier. Acting and all,” Robbie jokes, mouth quirking up in a handsome smile.

Dean mocks him quietly and even though he receives a glare from Sam again, he can tell that his brother is sort of amused. Okay, so maybe Dean isn’t totally alone?

“That’s alright,” Cas says, shrugging. “It’s unfortunate that another person has died. Do you think your movie is being sabotaged?”

At that, Dean feels a tiny bit better, knowing that Cas is trying to scrounge up some information from the creep.

Or maybe he’s just making conversation.

Dean feels himself start to sweat from nerves and he feels something possessive course through him as Robbie looks Cas up and down. “Yes, I believe so,” Robbie answers, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s the fourth extra since we started filming… I’m afraid they may have to shut down the production if this keeps occurring.”

“That would be a shame,” Cas agrees, his eyebrows doing that stupid sympathetic thing that Dean loves.

Robbie must love it too, because he leans closer, too close, the way Cas usually does to Dean, and it’s so messed up. “So, about that interview…”

“Ah, yes. When would you like me to, uh, interview you?” Cas asks, blinking a lot as he stares up at Robbie.

“Well, I’m hosting a party tomorrow night and I was wondering if you’d like to be my date,” Robbie asks, running a hand through his hair and biting his lip.

date?

Something hot, something foreign, spikes through Dean and it terrifies him, making him take a step back. It’s almost like having the Mark again, the anger sloshing around inside of his head, making his fingers twitch from the urge to grab Robbie’s tan neck and squeeze it until Robbie begs for mercy.

Sam eyes him worriedly, but Dean smashes his teeth together and lets his blood boil in silence.

“Oh!” Cas blushes again and rubs his arm. “I- I would love to.”

Dean’s world shatters.

“May I bring my colleagues?” He gestures to Sam and Dean and Robbie seems to finally notice them.

“Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Robbie Vines.” Robbie, that asshole, holds out his hand, grinning back and forth at the Winchesters.

Sam, that traitor, shakes it firmly with a nod of his head. Dean, reluctantly, grips it as tight as he can. “Well, um, you’ve got a strong grip, sir,” Robbie says, grimacing and shaking his hand out.

‘’Hmm,” Dean says, his smile as fake as the badge in his pocket.

Robbie turns back to Cas after laughing nervously at Dean, who is staring into his soul. “After the party, I would be happy to hold the interview in my hotel room. If you’d like.”

The rage is just building and building inside of him…

“O-okay,” Cas answers, smiling nervously.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Castiel.” Robbie winks and smiles and struts away.

“Good job, Cas,” Sam says, eyebrows raised and a kind, but joking smile on his face. “We can investigate all of the actors at the party.”

“Great,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Now we have to go a party full of asshats hosted by the King himself and you get to flirt with him all night long.”

Cas looks at him angrily, crossing his arms. “That’s not fair, Dean. I was just--”

“I don’t even wanna talk about it, Cas,” Dean cuts him off. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

As he turns away, he pretends to not notice the hurt that flashes over Cas’ face. He’s angry, but not at Cas. He doesn’t have unprecedented anger from the Mark, from some overlooking evil… here and now, it’s him.

Just being an idiot.

______________________________

Cas ignores him for the rest of the day.

He doesn’t look at him, doesn’t talk to him, and doesn’t accidentally brush Dean’s hand with his own in the taxi.

Dean avoids him as much as possible after realizing that Cas isn’t in the mood for reconciliation. But while they stay away from each other, all Dean wants is his touch and his messy hair and his smile. Cas is all he think of. Robbie isn’t the one who should be winking at Cas and asking him out on dates and making him blush.

Dean should.

Nobody should even be allowed to look at Cas, let alone touch him.

Ugh. He screwed up big time.

But Dean’s an ass and he doesn’t apologize, even when Cas softens as he opens the fast food bag, seeing that Dean ordered him his favorite burger. Even when he hands Cas a chocolate milk shake and he says a gentle, “Thank you, Dean,” and Dean’s heart melts as they look at each other. Even as blue eyes stare into green and Dean has so many things to say…

But he doesn’t.

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

They eat their burgers in silence while watching Cartoon Network.

Even when Cas falls asleep, in Dean’s clothes again, Dean stays away, staring into the darkness. Why is this Robbie guy bothering him so much?

Because you’re in love with, Cas, dumbass.

______________________________

Again, heart attack.

Dean has been through too much shit to be worrying about cardiac arrest, but when witnessing Cas in a suit…

Yeah, Dean could get used to seeing that.

Compared to his usual get up, Cas’ suit is fitted, ironed, his tie at an acceptable length. His slacks and overcoat are dark blue or royal or some shit Sam called it, and it definitely compliments Cas’ baby blues in the best way possible. Cas is looking at him too and maybe he’s admiring Dean’s own suit, or maybe he’s trying to see if Dean is planning on being a douchebag again. But at least Cas is looking at him now, right?

The party, hosted by Mr. Right himself, is being held by an incredibly fancy hotel in a giant fucking tent like they’re at the circus or something. Dean tries not to complain about it though, because he’s trying not to be a jerk today, especially not to Cas.

He can do that at least, right?

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be the only one in a cheap suit. A lot of strange people were invited to this party and even if one guy is attempting to stick a sword down his throat, it makes Dean feel better knowing that he isn’t the strangest person here. The tent really is humungous and about two hundred people are packed inside, some already dancing to some upbeat toons and a few sipping champagne in tiny little clusters, eyeing the others strolling around in pinstripe suits, their hair colored and spiky, shit-eating grins on their faces.

Cas looks happy enough and he is sticking close to Dean instead of running off towards Robbie. Sam has already separated from their little group in search of some lady actors he might be able to get info out of or investigate or sleep with.

A waiter slips past him and Dean grabs a glass from his tray, downing it in one gulp. Cas politely accepts a glass and drinks it slowly, glancing around, maybe in search for his date. After a few moments of observing the party, Cas scoots closer to Dean, lightly tapping his left shoulder. “Dean,” Cas says, leaning in to be heard and Dean looks over, straight into those beautiful eyes that never fail to make his skin feel hot.

“What’s wrong? Why don’t you like me talking to Robbie?”

Of course. The one question Dean has been dreading, the first thing real thing Cas has said to him in over twenty-four hours.

And it’s the worst timing ever, because Robbie Vines himself is strolling towards them, like a predator stalking its prey. “Cas!” Robbie yells, trying to be heard over the crowd.

His teeth are flashing so bright it’s giving Dean a migraine.

Cas gives him a look that reads, “we will talk about this later,” and then he is smiling at Robbie and not Dean, whisked away into the crowd.

Dean would have stuck around but, well, no, he wouldn’t have. He slips away and studies the people, looking for anyone with fangs or blood dripping from the corner of their mouth, even though he sincerely doubts that the vampire would be that stupid. But he needs to get his mind off of Cas and his Mr. Right.

Dean wastes an hour, checking on both Sam and Cas occasionally. He eats refreshments and sips champagne like he’s the fanciest fucking guy in the joint. Sam has a small company of women- and one guy- grouped around him, hanging onto his every word like it’s gospel and Dean chuckles to himself. Of course, everyone loves Sam. Sam has always been the kind, caring knight in shining armor.

And Cas— well, he was just an oblivious sweetheart.

He’s being introduced to the entire party, just cute enough to get away with being quiet, and Robbie’s hand is planted on his arm, sometimes on his back, sometimes on his hip. But Dean pushes the jealously down, even though it’s creeping up, up, up.

Robbie would never have what he and Cas had, though.

Profound bond? Please. In Robbie Vine’s wildest dreams.

And there he goes quoting Taylor Swift again.

As he makes his rounds again, he notices Robbie and Cas heading towards the exit. Robbie’s hand is on Cas’ back and Dean could be wrong, but he seems to be pushing Cas out the door… And Cas looks nervous.

Dean’s instincts rise to the occasion and suddenly, he’s a raging conflagration again and Sam isn’t here to stop what could happen next.

Nobody messes with his angel.

“Hey!” Dean yells, running through the crowd and stomping towards Robbie and Cas.

“Dean?” Cas says, turning towards him. “What are you- DEAN!”

Dean’s fist connects with Robbie’s jaw and the actor spins and falls to the floor.

“Dean!” Cas exclaims, bending down next to Robbie, who is clutching his face in his hands, staring up at Dean like he’s crazy.

Which. Dean is. Crazy. In love.

“What the hell, man!?” Robbie spits out, blood streaming out between his fingers.

“Nobody messes with my angel!” Dean yells, before his mouth snaps shut.

Fuck.

Maybe everyone will just think it’s, um, a kinky nickname. Hopefully.

Cas’ mouth is open in horror, as is the group beginning to form around them. Cas must also be in shock, because he lets Dean grab his arm and pull him away, Dean’s neck burning hot in embarrassment.

Cas lets Dean drag him as far as the darkened hallway beyond the main room before he finally speaks up.

He grabs Dean’s wrist and wrenches it from his arm. “Dean Winchester, what is the matter with you!?”

Dean spins back around, narrowing his eyes. “Cas, he was forcing you out the goddamn door! I had to do something!”

“No, Dean, he wasn’t!” Cas yells, blue eyes wide in anger. “He was asking me if I wanted to go back to his hotel room!”

Dean scoffs. “So, you were just going to go back to his room then,” he spits out with an eye roll.

“Yes, Dean, I was, to interview him. Nothing was going to happen.” Cas crosses his arms and looks at the floor.

Dean opens his mouth before shutting it just as quickly. Oh. “Yeah, right,” he mutters, looking away, his hands jutting into his suit jacket.

“Dean…” Cas sighs and closes his eyes, uncrossing his arms to rub his temples. “Why are you acting this way?”

Dean’s mind is racing and there’s no getting past this one. But when he glances at Cas who is gazing at the floor, sunken, he realizes he doesn’t want to get past this. So he makes a decision— he lets it all go, voice slightly cracking, eyes rounded. “No one else should be fucking flirting with you Cas! No one else should touch you or be your date or anything!”

Cas is silent for a moment, face smoothing out from disappointment and lingering anger to something else that Dean can’t quite place. “No one… else?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re saying…”

“Fuck, Cas, no one else except me! Yeah, I’m jealous and it’s because I want you and I don’t fucking deserve you, but you know what? That asshole doesn’t deserve you anymore than I do.”

Cas’ eyes widen as he stares at Dean, lips parted and eyes so damn blue and yeah, he’s all Dean wants in the whole fucking world. All he will ever want.

Dean licks his lips and looks at the ground, planning his escape. But then Cas is right in front of him, cupping his face in his hands and oh, how Dean has waited for this. His touch sends a thrill of warmth through him, heart bolting, and Cas is smiling. It lights up the entire sky.

“Dean Winchester, I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a very long time.”

And then Cas kisses him.

Dean wasn’t expecting this. He wasn’t expecting to automatically relax, feeling years of pent up sexual tension and unresolved feelings melt away, like a layer of skin that’s been weighing him down for so long that he hadn’t even noticed it was there. He takes Cas by the hips and gives him everything he has. Their mouths are joined openly, lips gripping and sucking, Cas’ hand sliding into his hair, pulling him closer so that their bodies are pressed together.

Dean slowly slips his tongue into the angel’s mouth, squeezing his eyes shut in desperation.

God, he wants him. Every day. And the feeling that is stringing through his veins and circling his heart and cleansing the paralyzing fear he’s been facing every day. And there’s no rejection Dean isn’t capable of handling, no disgust. It’s happening, because Cas wants it to, because he’s here whimpering into Dean’s mouth.

They part to breathe and Cas smiles against his cheek. “You could have just told me, Dean,” he whispers, not letting Dean move an inch.

“You know I’m not good with expressing feelings, Cas.”

“Yes, I do.”

Cas leans back with an amused smile, all the anger from before having melted away.

Dammit, Dean might cry. But he doesn’t, gripping Cas by his tux and pulling him in again. They’re cut off after only seconds by the stark buzzing at his hip. Cas leans back, keeping his hands settled on Dean’s hips as he digs it out of his pocket and looks at the bright little screen. Sam’s name is lit up in glowing blue letters.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, where are you guys? I think I just found our vampire.”

“Really?” Dean looks at Cas, who’s leaning in to listen, both surprised.

“Yeah, it’s one of the actresses, Stacey Kells. Shit-- you better hurry, because she just dragged some guy outside and I need back up.”

“Okay, we’ll be there in a second.” Dean hangs up and looks back at Cas and dammit, if they weren’t on a case, he’d be damn right furious at Sam for being the ultimate cockblock.

“Guess we’ll have to continue this, uh…”

“Later,” Cas finishes with a nervous smile, as if he’s hoping Dean won’t contradict, but he skimps his thumb over Cas’ chin in hope that it will convey his obvious yes, of course before pulling him down the hall, away from the party, and towards the back of the tent.

________________________

“Let him go, Stacy!”

Sam’s voice echoes across the concrete walls constructed behind the tent, twisting like a maze. Dean and Cas share a look as they creep through the shadows towards Sam and the vampire, gun steady in Dean’s hands. The small group comes into view as they round a corner. An unlucky bastard stumbling on still feet is being held up against the front of the blonde actress, her mouth poised over the man’s neck, ready to bite down. Sam is five feet away, gun pointed towards the pair.

“Not unless you put down the gun, sweetie,” Stacy answers, smiling as best as she can with a mouth full of fangs.

Dean motions for Cas to stay back as he slips across the wall, trying to get behind the vamp and find the perfect shot. Sam notices Dean and immediately averts his eyes before the vamp catches on. Dean is almost at the perfect angle when the inevitable happens.

Wow, you called it buddy.

Dean really wishes he hadn’t.

“I would really consider putting the gun down, boy,” Robbie says, appearing from the shadows behind Sam and pressing a gun to the back of his neck.

Sam freezes up, gritting his teeth before lowering the gun and dropping it on the ground. He raises his arms and glances over to where Dean is, trying to stay in the dark. Robbie, that fucking bastard, presses Sam forward towards Stacy. “So, where’s that stupid friend of yours? He stole Castiel away from me before I could get him in my bed,” Robbie snarls, smiling, blood still on his chin and lips from Dean’s fist, his front stained crimson.

Dean’s blood boils at the words and he tries to focus on shooting Stacy. He pulls the trigger, then again, and the bullets hit home in the middle of Stacy’s neck, ripping it clean off. The man she had captive screams, blood pouring down his neck as he falls to the ground, curling up in the fetal position.

Robbie’s head snaps to the right to give Dean a murderous look, fangs popping out, but Dean chuckles innocently. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Dean, I presume?” Robbie says, raising his eyebrows. “Thanks for messing up my nicest suit and what was to be an absolute perfect night with your friend.”

Robbie presses the gun against Sam’s head and pulls him closer with his forearm tucked under his chin. “I was only going to spend a pure night of bliss with your precious Cas before letting him go. I wasn’t going to hurt him.”

“Like hell I would let you touch him,” Dean sneers, taking a step forward.

“Tsk, tsk. Don’t come any closer or I blow his pretty head off,” Robbie warns as he takes a step to the right.

They circle each other like they’re in the ring, Dean trying to figure out how to get them out of this mess alive. “I understand your jealously, Dean,” Robbie says coyly, smirking. “Castiel is clearly more interested in me than he will ever be with you.”

Dean ends up snorting in laughter, earning an absolute death glare from Sam. “Oh, buddy, if you only knew.”

Dean catches a glimpse of Cas, coming out from the shadows and moving silently towards Sam’s gun, only a few feet away from Robbie. Dean moves to the right again and Robbie follows the movement. Bingo.

“I’ll let your tall friend here go if you tell me where Castiel is. Fair trade, don’t you think?”

“I’m right here, you son of a bitch,” Cas says and before Robbie can even turn around, Sam is wrenching out of his grasp and bullets are being blown into Robbie’s neck.

He falls to the ground, twice in the past hour, and then Robbie Vines is gone, blood pouring out of him like the chocolate fountain inside and oh, Dean should run back in there and pile up on the refreshments before they pack it all up…

“Dean,” Cas says, dropping Sam’s gun. His voice is full of worry, but his gaze softens as his presses his fingertips to Dean’s chest, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Dean smiles, squeezing Cas’ shoulder. “Nice shot. You saved our asses. You okay, Sammy?”

“Perfect,” Sam scowls, picking up his gun and rubbing his head as he walks over. “That asshole dented my skull.”

“Guess you were right,” Cas says, smiling shyly at Dean. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the full awareness you expected of me.”

“Hey, we all make mistakes. I didn’t actually believe he was the vamp before. I’m just glad that the douche bag is dead.”

Dean takes a step forward, as if to leave.

“What the hell!?”

They all turn, remembering the drunk partier that Stacy had took, still cowering on the ground.

“Uh, Cas…” Sam says, squinting.

“I will take care of it.”

_________________________________

After helping the man, memories of the evening wipes and now safely returned to his friends, Sam hauls them a cab and they all head back to the hotel.

His anxious brain settles into a state of solace as he gazes out the window at the city lights. Dean can’t stop thinking about Cas and the feel of his lips and his hands and how much he wants to kiss him again. Cas must be thinking the same thing, because he is throwing Dean these shy, adorable smiles and his fingertips are drawing incoherent shapes on his knee.

As they trudge up to their rooms, Sam complains about his head, mentioning ibuprofen and a hot shower multiple times. Dean is glad they’re not sharing a room, because he really cannot deal with his Sasquatch of a brother tonight. He tries to be nice when Sam goes to bed and tries not to make a smart-ass joke and he’s almost proud of himself when he and Cas finally make it into their room.

“God, today’s been the longest day I’ve had in a while—”

‘Dean, do we really have to talk about this right now?” Cas says, pulling at his tie, eyes dark as they lock onto his own.

He’s slipping his hand around Dean’s neck and talking with that gravelly sex voice of his and oh-

Dean swallows thickly. “No, uh, of course not, but Cas are you sure about thi—”

Cas kisses him quiet.

And for now, that’s the end of that.

THE END