Work Text:
“I don’t think this is a good idea."
Castiel doesn't technically need to breathe but he found the sigh, low and long suffering, eases some of the weary tension that came with Gabriel’s arm being flung around his shoulders.
“Hey, it worked for me, didn’t it?” Gabriel is as chipper as ever. With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he tilts his head towards where Sam is bent over, rummaging through the backseat of the Impala, Gabriel's gaze not so subtly roving over his bottom, "Heya there, Samsquash, how'd you like to stake a trickster tonight?"
Spine stiffening, Sam straightens up, out of the car, and turns to glare at Gabriel, "How about I gag you and stuff you in the trunk instead?"
"Ooh, kinky."
Rolling his eyes, Sam shuts the car door before he heads past them, back towards their motel room. A trace of a suppressed smile betrays the edges of his lips, though, and even Cas has to admit Sam has been looking quite happy lately since he and Gabriel became an 'item'.
Gabriel is beaming with smugness when he looks back at Cas.
As if Sam hadn't just threatened him - or maybe it’s because Sam had threatened him. It's hard to tell with them.
“Look, all ya got to do is go stand by Dean-o and give him the line I told you. Capeesh?"
Cas nods grimly, "I capeesh."
The way Gabriel's grin broadens almost changes his mind - Gabriel looking this thrilled has never ended well - but when Gabriel nudges him towards the motel room's door, Cas' legs reluctantly go.
---
Cas is standing close enough he can see the fresh dampness still clinging to Dean's hair, smell the chemically, cheap soap he must have showered with; his eyes follow the single bead of water that trails down the side of Dean's neck-
"Ready to hit the road?" Dean asks him, shifting the weight of the duffel bag he's got slung over one shoulder.
Squaring his jaw, Cas lifts his eyes to Dean's - green, so very green - eyes and evenly says, “Forget the car, I’ll be your baby.”
Across the room, Sam must have dropped something; there's a sharp, clattering noise followed by a painfully long beat of silence.
Cas doesn't dare to look away from Dean, though, not with the suddenly anxious, knotted energy buzzing just beneath his skin.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Dean's eyebrows furrow before he lets out a chuckle, "Come on, Cas, we've talked about this. We can't just rely on you poofin' us everywhere. Asides, you know what that does to my insides."
Dean clasps him once on the shoulder as he passes beside him towards the door.
Cas blinks after him, lost.
He and Gabriel hadn't rehearsed for this.
He doesn't notice the amused, pitying look Sam gives him.
Gabriel had insisted he try again.
So Cas does, his mouth a sour, rigid line when he says down to the block of cheese he's been tasked with grating, "You'll never provolone again."
He looks up, though, when he hears Dean's snort.
Dean, hands absently still rolling out a section of dough, flour powdering the front of his shirt, is giving him an odd look, “Dude are you threatening the cheese?”
"You could be the Mac to my cheese." Cas replies, small and defeated.
Bumping their shoulders together, Dean barks out laughter, "Didn't know you were that into pasta."
Cas doesn't know why he ever trusts Gabriel.
"Would you like to be touched by an angel?"
Maybe directly after a hunt wasn't the best time for a pick up line, if Dean's glare was anything to go by, "Just get on with it."
So Cas heals him.
His fingertips, afterwards, linger behind where the jagged cut had been on Dean's cheek a moment prior, the skin there now smooth and unblemished. The way his grace, too, lingers, brushing, caressing pieces of a bright, exhausted soul.
And Dean, eyes closed, absently leans his head into the contact, breath going soft and even.
There are shadows under those eyes from a dozen sleepless nights.
Cas is tempted to brush his thumb over them; tempted to climb onto the rickety bed beside Dean, perch like a guardian angel warding off evil and dreams.
It's a temptation he has far too often.
But he never does.
Instead, Cas tucks a blanket over Dean.
"Not the brightest bulb, your Winchester." Gabriel says.
Cas scowls.
Dean wouldn't like the fact that Gabriel is sprawled out on top of the Impala, arms folded under his head that's rested on the rear window.
"This is not working."
Sighing, Gabriel vanishes, reappearing beside Cas, the back of their legs pressed up against the Impala's bumper. "I should've known it'd come to this." With a snap of his fingers, a small, white, folded card appears between his fingers, "The Big Guns."
"Gabriel, this is not-"
"This," Twirling the note between his knuckles, Gabriel fixes him with a stern look, "Is the one guaranteed no-fail pick-up line."
Cas eyes the paper, eyebrows furrowing.
He doesn't know what Gabriel is trying to pull, but he's certainly trying to pull something.
Gabriel's expressions gentles, "One last line. That's it. If this doesn't work, you can forget all about this charade. What do you have to lose?"
Dean, Cas thinks, all he has to lose is Dean; getting to have the same little smiles from him that Sam gives to Gabriel; getting to taste the water on his skin; getting to climb into the same bed with him and hold him throughout the night.
All he has to lose is all the things he's already losing out on.
"One last line," Cas echos, resenting the sliver of hope in his voice, and though he's no less skeptical of his brother's word, he reaches for the card.
Before his fingertips can so much as brush it, though, Gabriel yanks it back, "One more thing. For this to work, you cannot read it until you're in front of Dean. It's a once and done kinda deal."
Hesitating, Castiel squints at him.
"You want your man, don't you?"
Cas takes the card.
-----
Cas is steeled like a warrior raging into battle when he appears in the motel room, shoulders drawn taunt, back straight, jaw tensed.
This is it. Either Gabriel's 'Big Guns' will work or Cas will know all hope is lost.
"Cas?" Dean is sitting at the small table tucked into the corner of the room, a steaming paper cup forgotten halfway to his mouth when Cas stalks towards him. "Cas, what's wrong-"
The little paper he whips out from his pocket seems as heavy of a burden as a blazing sword, the alarm in Dean's expression giving away to bafflement.
"Roses are red, violets are blue, there is a bed, do you want me to fuck... you... oh."
Dean's cup hit the table with enough force to crack the lid open, coffee spilling into a mess of papers. Dean doesn't appear to notice, he is too fixated, wide-eyed and gaping at Cas. "Cas - what - Cas?!"
Cas blinks, taking in the neatly printed words on the card one last time, though they no longer seemed as comprehensive as they'd been a moment prior, before he blinks up at Dean instead.
Dean who he has, without a doubt, all of his attention.
There is no going back now.
Lifting his head higher, Cas meets Dean's wild, startled eyes, "Yes or no, Dean Winchester."
It seems to take a moment for Dean to remember how to work his tongue before, finally, he squeaks out a god, yes.
"I told you pick-up lines would work," Gabriel wiggles his fingers, expectantly.
"I don't know if that counted as a pick-up line."
"But it worked didn't it?"
And, really, Sam couldn't argue that. Asides, anything was better than watching those two circling one another with their longing eyes and profound-bond talk. It was starting to make him nauseated.
"Alright, alright, you win." Pulling a crumpled twenty out from his pocket, he dropped it into Gabriel's waiting palm.
"Well... now that that's taken care of..." Gabriel's eyebrows lift suggestively, "So about that staking..."