Chapter Text
“No, Dean,” Sam says, shaking his head.
“Come on, Sammy.” Dean points enthusiastically at the giant sign on a window of Biggerson's covered in red, pink, and purple hearts. “It's forty percent off.”
Sam rolls his eyes, reaching for the handle inside the car. “I am not going to pretend to be dating my brother so that we can get a discount on dinner.” He gets out and shuts the door.
Dean scrambles after him, pausing just long enough to make sure his baby is locked. “We don't have to do anything weird. Just say 'hey, we're a couple' and maybe hold hands. And then, we can practically get a meal for free!”
Sam doesn't get the chance to make a retort at his brother (about how much of a problem he'd always had when people had assumed that they were together, and now it's no big deal?) because there's a sound of rippling fabric and Castiel appears before them. The trench-coated angel greets them quickly and starts rattling off some information that he gathered about the heavenly enchanted item that they're looking for.
“Cas! Great timing!” Dean exclaims, interrupting him. He reaches out and wraps his arm around the back of the angel's shoulders. “You get to be my date tonight. Sam! Come be our third wheel,” he says over his own shoulder as he's nearly dragging Castiel across the parking lot to Biggerson's front entrance.
Castiel's eyes narrow in confusion, but he allows Dean to guide him to the restaurant. “What moment in time shall I be, Dean?”
“What?” Dean's steps falter as he scrunches his face at his oblivious friend. “No, not that sort of date. You know, where two people go out as a couple.”
“You are asking for my companionship in public?” Castiel asks, his eyes finding and holding onto Dean's sudden gaze.
Dean's certain he goes a bit pink in the face, but he clears his throat, keeping his arm secured around Castiel's shoulders. “Uh, yeah, I guess.” He breaks their eye contact and points out the sign on the window. “Couples get a discount this weekend for Valentine's Day. Just play ball, man, and I can get a cheaper meal.”
“To which sport are you referring, Dean?”
Sam chuckles behind them while Dean rolls his eyes.
Dean pauses just before the door, dropping his arm, and briefly explains, “Remember that thing humans do when they want something really bad? They lie.” He continues when Castiel nods in understanding. “Just pretend we're dating for like an hour.”
Cas says, “I'm afraid it's a lie that I won't be very proficient at. Dating is something I don't have any experience with.”
“Yeah, this is going to work out super,” Sam scoffs with a quick raise of his brows, opening the door to step inside.
Dean looks inside to see Sam and the hostess behind the podium glancing at them. He realizes that they're already on the clock, so he takes Castiel's hand and pulls him gently to the side, hiding them from view behind the giant advertisement. “Just let me do all of the talking,” he tells his friend, “laugh at stuff I say, stick close to me-”
“But you have a problem with me being in your personal space,” Castiel reminds him, regarding him with a tilt to his head.
“If we're dating, it's not something that'll bother me.” Dean clears his throat. “Follow my lead, and don't say anything weird, alright? Pretend you're a normal human being.”
As Dean moves towards the door again, Castiel lifts up his arm to grab Dean's shoulder. “How far have we progressed into our pretend relationship?”
“Uh...” Dean's unsure where the question is coming from, but he shrugs. “I dunno, a couple of months, maybe? You need a back-story?”
“Have we engaged in sexual intercourse then?” Castiel asks, his face entirely serious.
Dean chokes on a laugh and knows that his ears are turning red. This angel-dude doesn't have an ounce of shame. “I, uh, of course. I... tapped that right away.” He tries a flashy smile, but it lacks his usual air of confidence.
Castiel's eyes narrow in bemusement, falling briefly to Dean's lips that the only-slightly-taller man unconsciously licks. The hand on Dean's shoulder finally drops down, and Castiel goes to the door, opening it and inclining his head with half of a smile. The gesture amuses Dean, makes him start to consider if he should come up with some sort of pet name for his fake boyfriend.
“Sorry about that,” Dean tells Sam, providing no excuse for why he and Castiel had lingered outside – let the hostess make up something on her own. He quietly clears his throat and stands up straighter to ask the hostess, “So, how does this couples discount work?”
She looks between Sam and Dean and then to Castiel. The woman has an air of utter boredom and blandly explains, “You get it when you pay. You ready to be seated?”
Dean wonders what the catch is. They don't need to show some sort of proof to get the discount? Castiel sticks close to him as they follow the hostess over to a table. It seems... too easy. He hasn't had to hold the angel's hand, say something smoopy, let his fingers graze over his arm, send him longing gazes – no chick flick moments. Castiel is quiet as he scoots to the end of the cushioned booth seat, quiet as Dean situates himself next to him. Sam takes his seat on the other side of the table and grabs a small three-sided display featuring various drinks, appetizers, and desserts.
As if sensing that the hostess is suspicious of their “couple” status, Castiel looks up at her and suddenly blurts out, “I enjoy fornicating with this man.”
“Jesus, Cas!” Dean wails, his face turning tomato red. He clenches his jaw as he turns to Castiel and grits out, “She doesn't need to know that, dear.”
Sam is trying desperately to hold in his laughter.
The hostess just gives a nod with pursed lips, “Right... you can't do that here. This is a family establishment, after all.”
Dean hopes that Castiel understands that that is not something you say out-loud (he'll bring it up later), and then he turns back to the woman standing in front of their table. “You have a problem with me and... my boyfriend?”
She shrugs, and Dean swears the only way she'll look any more snobbish is if she were smacking gum in her mouth and blowing bubbles with it. “You two aren't the first to fake it for the discount. Not me you need to convince though. Drinks?”
Sam quickly answers, “Water for now. Thanks.”
“Hey, we're not-” Dean tries to argue, “we're not faking it. I could get you fired for discrimination, you know.”
“Tomorrow's my last day anyway, so not a real problem for me,” she says. “You're still getting your discount, but if you need to prove something, you'll want to step up your game for Harriet, your server. She's a bit of a romantic and might quiz you for the fun of it.”
Dean huffs, and Sam nods. Castiel is taking in all of her words.
“Coffee – black,” Dean finally says.
The hostess looks to Castiel, waiting. “And for you, sir?”
“Oh, uh... a water will do. Thank you,” Castiel answers, hands folded in his lap.
As soon at the hostess leaves, Dean addresses Castiel's early bumble. “So, uh, Cas. We don't need to share details of... you know, that sort of stuff.”
“Fornication?”
“Why are you calling it that?”
“We are not married,” Castiel answers, “the act of consensual intercourse between two unmarried people is fornication.”
Dean picks up his menu and unfolds it without looking at Castiel. “Yeah, well, whatever you want to call it, just don't bring it up again. That's something that stays in the bedroom,” Dean chuckles once, “or wherever you're getting your rocks off. It's private. Just for the couple to share with each other.”
“Intimate,” Castiel says quietly.
“Yeah...” Dean swears Castiel is going to bore holes right through him if he keeps staring at him like that. He's trying not to turn his head and return the deep gaze.
Instead, his eyes are drawn to the hostess walking by with a young couple in tow. They are seated in a booth against the opposite wall – far enough so he can't hear what they're saying, but still within view. The man and woman sit next to each other even though there is no one else in their party to take up the other bench. Dean notes that the woman is leaning into the man's space to look over the menu with him, and suddenly, Castiel's shoulder is flush up against his own.
Clearly, Castiel is watching them as well, taking small cues to invade Dean's space without reprimand. Luckily, he isn't taking all of the cues as the woman is practically draped over her boyfriend – maybe a bit too over-eager to have an excuse to show off as a couple. There are plenty of other patrons in the restaurant, but those two are the only ones out-selling themselves on the PDA.
“Would a small display of physical affection be more appropriate?” Castiel asks, slightly hunched over the table and hands still in his lap.
“Don't you dare try anything funny.” Dean holds up his palm towards Castiel in warning. “Just let me take the lead. Stop saying weird things.”
Sam glances up at them from his menu before his eyes flit back down to the folded laminated paper. Yeah, live it up, Sammy, Dean thinks.
Another woman, older, with her graying hair pulled back into a bun, comes up to their table with a round tray and settles the two waters and a coffee on the table as she introduces herself, “Good evening, folks. Sorry for the wait. I'll be your server tonight. Name's Harriet. You boys figure out what you want to eat?”
Sam nods, looking over to Dean. Dean turns the glance to Castiel who presses himself against his side again. The angel has his own menu sitting on the table, still closed, but instead is using Dean's. His head twists to look slightly up at the human – and damn, his face is ridiculously close; if Dean turns his chin anymore, it would probably put his lips right on the tip of Castiel's nose.
Dean swallows stiffly and nods finally. “The usual, Cas?” Dean asks, hoping the angel takes a hint that Dean will order something 'for him'.
“That sounds fine, Dean,” Castiel says, pulling himself slightly away but thigh still surprisingly warm against Dean's.
The brothers place their orders – Dean making his a double.
“Any meals to discount tonight?” Harriet smiles knowingly, gaze settling warmly on Dean and Castiel.
Dean smiles back and indicates with a finger between himself and Castiel.
“Yeah, they're kind of grossly in love,” Sam says with a beaming smile to the waitress.
“Isn't that sweet?” she gushes with a hand placed over her chest. “How did you two meet?”
Dean kicks Sam's shin under the table while he mimics something of a fish floundering out of water for an answer. “Uh...”
Castiel states without hesitation, “I raised him from perdition.”
That gets a raised brow from their waitress. “Pardon?”
Dean laughs it off. “I, uh, was kind of in a bad spot in my life when we met. A living Hell, really. Cas, here, saved me from that.” He leans into his friend and drops a hand to Castiel's thigh in what he hopes looks like an affectionate gesture.
“Ah, is he keeping you out of trouble still?” Harriet's small talk is nothing but utterly sincere, and Dean feels a small pang of guilt that they're weaving a half-lie for her.
“He tries.” Dean winks – flirting is always the go-to response.
Harriet chuckles. “Well, save that thought. I need to put in your order, and I'll catch up with you boys in a jiffy.” She leaves them with another sweet smile.
Once out of her earshot, Sam leans over and asks, “Still worth that discount?”
“Every penny,” Dean snorts.
“So, you were telling us about our case, Cas?” Sam brings up an important topic that Dean had almost forgotten about.
He's almost forgotten as well that he put his hand down on Castiel's leg, and he's reminded when Castiel bumps the top of his hand with his knuckles. The angel is speaking with Sam about that object they're looking for – that some box in Egypt can contain its power when they obtain it. Dean twists his wrist, listening to the details but distracted with the action of his hand under the table. When their palms touch, he can hear the short pause of Castiel's promise to procure them the container. Dean pointedly avoids looking at Castiel, dropping his opposite elbow on the table to rest his chin in his hand and watch the couple across the way instead.
He can't remember the last time he's held hands with anyone; it feels like forever ago. And in this moment, it seems like the right thing to do. Dean spreads his fingers, catching them between the hand hovering over his own, and curls them around to the back of the angel's hand. It takes a moment, but Castiel's fingers finally mimic the motions.
Castiel's hand is surprisingly warm, and Dean allows himself the small comfort it brings to be sharing the same space with someone – even if it's not with someone quite human. He considers it's not really fair to think of Castiel as something nonhuman; sure, he's an Angel, but there's something innately different than the other Host of Heaven's bag of flying dicks that they tend to deal with.
Cas is... Cas.
Despite the clingy-ness that the young woman in the couple that they've both been eyeballing is exhibiting, Castiel doesn't try to take anything further. He's just sitting right up against him with their hands together on top of Castiel's leg. Castiel isn't fawning over Dean and grazing his free hand over his shoulder; he certainly isn't peppering random kisses on his face or pressing his breasts, er, chest to his arm. No, the other man seems to have read the situation well enough – that the close proximity is really all that is needed to depict them as a “couple”.
It doesn't go unnoticed by Dean that Sam keeps throwing glances at the lack of space between them, but the younger Winchester stays astutely silent about the matter. Sam pointing it out would probably be just the thing to break the “moment” or whatever is going on here. Dean hopes Sam won't breach the subject.