Hi! Watched the 11b premiere and NOOO CAS BBY and NOOO ROWENA MY QUEEN and NOOO MISHA AS LUCI IS WEIRD but I'm sure he'll do better as he progresses. Tbh I'll forgive Misha anything and he was amazing in his short role as Levi!Cas so I have faith in the beautiful treetopper 3
I'm sure we all saw casifer coming (Misha basically told us what would happen so if you were surprised, shame on you nah I'm kidding)... I have some ideas on how I want the show to handle this storyline. This fic is basically those ideas. You're probably reading this after S11E11 airs and the show has probably not done ANY of what I wanted, which is basically confirmed attraction between Dean and Cas and some delicious Lucifer messing around with the boys because he's a dick and above all CAS NEEDS TO KNOW THAT HE IS LOVED OK. HE IS SO LOVED. DEAN FFS TELL HIM.
OK, enjoy, I tried to make this as in-character for the show as possible, like I even kept the destiel in firm queerbaiting territory. Ew. Anyway, please review, I hope you like it :)

Dean

I heave a yawn as I wander into the control room, idly scratching the back of my head and sipping my mug of coffee. It's weird how I feel so relaxed this morning, considering we're neck deep in shit, as usual. But after all, it's the morning after dragging my brother out of Hell. Again. I can think about Amara and all the crap she comes with later on. Right now, I just want to sit and enjoy knowing that Sammy is safe in bed, snoring his gigantic face off.

My mind drifts as I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling far above me. I can never look up without thinking of Cas, even though I know he's never really upstairs any more. Earth is more his home now. I just wish that he'd progress to calling the bunker home and actually be here more often, but he's always been an enigmatic little bastard. I don't tend to question it when he goes off and does his own thing, even if his absence makes me more anxious and curious than I'd like to admit.

My gaze floats down from the ceiling to the balcony and I jump, swearing loudly and almost spilling coffee all over myself. I gaze angrily up into clear blue eyes. Cas is standing silently at the railings by the front door, staring down at me with an oddly speculative look in those familiar eyes. How long has he been lurking up there? What a fucking weirdo.

"Cas, what the hell?" I snap, setting my coffee down and taking a deep breath. He blinks at me and gives a small, secret smile before turning and making his way down the stairs. I watch him, feeling glad that he's here even though he made a creepy entrance. Creepy entrances are kind of his thing, and anything that's Cas is really OK with me. Besides, I haven't had a chance to just chill out with him lately. Deep down, I've sort of missed him. So I'm smiling slightly by the time he reaches my level, standing on the other side of the table and surveying me calmly.

"Hello, Dean," comes the old greeting, and my smile turns to a grin.

"Hey, man. Hell of a day yesterday. Ha, literally. But yeah, thanks for helping out."

Cas smirks, actually smirks, and my stomach does a strange flop. I stare at him as he shrugs, his gaze wandering across the room instead of holding mine like usual.

"That's what I do."

My smile has faded. "Yeah, well, thanks anyway. You here about something or just dropping in?"

Cas finally looks back at me, his expression mostly blank but with a hint of that smirk still playing about his full lips. It's distracting and it makes me uncomfortable, as well as a little warm. He pauses before replying.

"Well, I came to check on you guys. Is Sam around?"

I shake my head. "Nah, still asleep. Tussling with that asshole Lucifer really took it out of him."

The smirk finally disappears and Cas looks almost annoyed at me, though I can't work out why. He nods slowly. "Yes, I imagine it did. Well, I have some... business to take care of. I'll drop in some other time."

He turns away as he speaks the last part, eyes sliding easily away from mine, shoulders relaxed and movements looser than usual. I stand up, confused by his manner and embarrassingly disappointed that he's not staying for a bit. I wanted to talk to him. I don't know what about, but I wanted to.

"Leaving so soon?" I can hear the strain in my own voice, even through the fake smile I put on. He hums an affirmative and begins to climb the stairs without looking back at me. I watch him and I can feel the pout on my own lips. What is he pissed off about and why is he acting so weird? He reaches the balcony and turns to look down at me, giving a faint, cool smile.

"See you later, Dean. Say hi to Sammy for me."

I mumble agreement as he swishes through the front door, letting it slam shut behind him. Sitting heavily back in my chair, I stare moodily at the world map in front of me, glaring a hole in central Russia. Since when was Cas an asshole? And when did he start using my nickname for Sam? I sigh and suppose that actually, both of these things can probably be attributed to Cas's tendency to mimic me. He's been picking up more and more of my phrases and attitudes over the years, and it makes me secretly delighted.

Maybe he's starting to try copying my less desirable traits too, like rudeness and maintaining a strict emotional distance. The thought is sour and unwelcome. I once told Cas 'don't ever change' and I meant it. I like Cas as an earnest, dorky social disaster. This new casual, standoffish persona of his is probably a natural development of his personality as he tries to cope with the human world and our crazy lives, but still. I don't like it at all.

I'm still sulking there half an hour later when I hear faint music coming from elsewhere in the bunker. I smile tiredly, grabbing my mug and stretching as I clamber to my feet. Sam must be up.

Sure enough, I find him in the kitchen, already dressed where I'm still in my robe. He's blitzing a smoothie, yawning and nodding along to the indie crap blasting out of his phone. He grins at me as I walk in and toss him a greeting. It's a domestic, fairly cheerful scene... except for the gun lying next to the smoothie maker. I frown at it as I lean against the counter, having washed and dried my mug. Sam finishes making the drink and pours it out into a tall glass, offering me the smaller amount remaining in the machine. I give him an unimpressed look and he huffs a laugh, sipping on his ultra healthy, low fat breakfast. My eyes wander back to the gun behind him.

"Nervous?" I ask knowingly, gesturing at the weapon. He shrugs without looking at it, not meeting my eyes.

"A bit. Yesterday was stressful, to say the least."

I nod thoughtfully. "You need a break from this Darkness crap. All this world-hanging-in-the-balance business... It gets to you."

He looks up and raises his eyebrows, reassuringly sassy. "Oh, and it doesn't get to you?"

"A bit," I concede, shrugging. I grab the newspapers on the counter beside me, picking them up and beginning to flick through them. I continue speaking as I do so. "We need to stop thinking about it for a little while. It'll still be there to come back to. Always is."

Sam chugs back the last of his smoothie and drops the glass into the sink before picking up his gun and double checking that it's loaded. I shake my head, lips pressed together. "Dude, you are way too on edge. You don't need to carry that thing around in here."

"Makes me feel better," he mutters, turning away from me with a slight frown on his face. I sigh and return to perusing the papers.

"I need to find us a case," I state, scanning articles with practiced ease. Sam finally sets the gun back down and turns back to me, folding his long arms protectively around himself. It makes my heart hurt to see him so damaged but at least he's keeping it together. He'll be OK once I get him back into the familiar routine of a hunt. My gaze catches on a fairly local story and I straighten, making a triumphant noise.

"Here!" I exclaim, turning the paper to show Sam. "Beloit, not far from here. Wouldn't even need to get a motel room. Ghost cat."

"Ghost cat?" repeats Sam in disbelief, grabbing the paper. I grin at his immediate interest in the case. This'll be good for us. We're exactly the kind of fuck-ups that think of killing a ghostly feline as a relaxing break.

"Come on, you know you want to," I encourage, and Sam smiles affectionately at me, laying the paper down and linking his fingers behind his back for a stretch.

"OK," he finally relents. "Ghost cat it is."

I chuckle at him but my mirth fades with his next words: "What about Cas?"

My stomach drops as I think of my encounter with the angel earlier on. Cas can't come with us, not if he's acting weird. This trip is about Sam and when Cas is around, it becomes about Cas. Not because he demands attention, but because I can't seem to to help focusing on him and thinking about him and damn it, he was rude to me. Bastard barely even looked at me!

"Cas?" I shake my head, unable to keep some of my puzzlement off of my face, not looking Sam in the eye. "Something a little off about him."

"How so?"

I shrug, unsure if I'm overreacting or over-analysing. Probably. "He came by earlier and he was, I don't know, off. Maybe he's stressed or maybe it's some angel crap he has going on. I don't know, but he's just not himself right now."

I finally look back up at Sam, who's frowning in concern. "Huh. OK, well, if he keeps acting weird, we'll talk to him. Just keep an eye on him."

I nod, still feeling stupidly upset and annoyed about Cas's behaviour. Wanting to forget about it for a while, I go get dressed and grab the car keys. Sam and I are on the road fifteen minutes later, rock music blaring and sun shining in the sky. Castiel is shoved far, far into the back of my mind.