Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the related characters.
This takes place somewhere in the middle of season five. The Apocalypse is getting dangerously close, and Dean and Castiel are getting even closer, but haven't quite got a grip on the chemistry between them. Sam and Dean are working a case that may be related to one of the seals. Castiel has been dropping in more frequently than usual, often with vague excuses about needing help with a seal.
This is my first story posting on this site in several years, so I am pretty rusty. It's super-short and fluffy, mainly just a chance to flex my writing muscles again.
Enjoy!
...-^o^-...
It was late- close to midnight in some small town in Nowhere, North Dakota.
Dean had just taken an enormous bite out of a greasy hamburger when his eyes locked onto Castiel's intense gaze across the table from him. He froze, with the hamburger still raised to his mouth, staring at the space that had been empty just moments before.
Castiel watched him patiently, not blinking.
Dean's startled mind finally came up with a plan of action: First, chew and swallow, then cuss the out the angel in the trench coat.
He began chewing the large bite quickly and with vigor, eager to finish so he could berate the angel for appearing- as usual- without warning in public.
Castiel's silent focus shifted from Dean's fast-chewing mouth, back to his eyes, and back to his mouth.
After a few moments of this, Castiel cleared his throat, preparing to speak. But Dean immediately held up his finger to sternly signal the angel to wait. Castiel shut his mouth and resumed staring as the other man chomped hurriedly.
Finally, Dean swallowed in a large gulp. He took a deep breath and began in an irritated voice, "Cas, what have I told you about popping up without warning? You swore that you were going to use doors, like a freaking human, especially after the last…" he trailed off for a moment, eyes darting cautiously around the empty diner. He continued pointedly, in a lower voice, "…incident."
Castiel listened attentively. When Dean got to 'incident', his eyes finally left Dean's face and settled unseeingly on the table. His heavy brow was furrowed, and he seemed to be thinking seriously about Dean's words. After a few moments, his blue gaze locked back on Dean's and he tilted his head slightly. "Are you referring to the time I interrupted your shower and you screamed like a-"
"Yes, of course that is what I am talking about," Dean hissed, leaning forward threateningly. The oldest Winchester's ears turned a deep shade of red.
Castiel felt something... strange... happen in the vessel he was occupying. It seemed as though something soft and bubbly was trying to escape from his chest. It was a familiar sensation which he only ever experienced around Dean Winchester. Of course, Castiel knew what it was. Not from previous experience, but from second-hand descriptions over his many centuries of existence.
This was 'happiness'.
It was an emotion that the angel had never felt before until it had appeared without warning after a few interactions with the Righteous Man.
Castiel had decided that he 'enjoyed' the feeling. He wanted to feel it more often. But, he had soon discovered that embracing these feelings of 'happiness' had opened a Hell's Gate of unwanted feelings.
Like when Dean was outnumbered, and outmatched by demons that were beating him senseless: Fear.
Or when Dean chose to side with his brother, Sam, instead of him: Jealousy.
Or, worst of all, when Castiel would do something right, and Dean would smile brightly, throw his arm over his shoulder and say, "Thanks, Cas."
Castiel knew precisely the name of the emotion those actions drew from him: Love.
He did not need to have heard 'Love' described second-hand, like the others. It was impossible to confuse with anything else. It was similar to the broad, overwhelming love and commitment he felt for his Father, but compacted tightly, in all its intensity, into the impossibly fragile body of Dean Winchester. And instead of overpowering all the other newfound emotions, this sense of 'Love' heightened all of them to alarming levels.
Castiel had taken considerable amounts of time analyzing this feeling, and considering all possible outcomes.
Then, he had come to the conclusion that resisting it was absolutely futile. He was doomed.
Dean made an effort across the table to regain his composure. He leaned back, shrugging his shoulders loosely, before leaning forward again to ask, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Cas? Don't tell me you came all this way because you heard about 'Quadruple-Bacon-Half-Pounder Burger'? Or is it just 'cause you couldn't stand to be away from me any longer?" The green-eyed man winked, grinning cheekily.
Castiel stared blankly as his terrified mind desperately tried to slam on the brakes to his mouth, which almost blurted out, 'Option number two.'
After a few too many seconds of the uncomfortably intense look on Castiel's face, Dean decided to skip the sarcasm and bring the conversation around to business. He cleared his throat loudly to recapture Castiel's attention, and then said seriously, "What's really up, Cas? Did you come find me because another seal is about to be broken? 'Cause, you know, Sam and I are kind of tied up with a really important case right now, so we don't really have the time to drop everything and just leave."
Castiel's gaze dropped to the huge, partially eaten hamburger resting on the plate in front of the man. Dean followed his gaze, and then they both slowly met each other's eyes again.
Dean averted his eyes first, and after a brief, awkward silence, mumbled, "Well, of course, we take the necessary breaks to eat. It's not like WE run on Celestial Energizer Batteries like some people." He punctuated the last part by raising his eyebrows pointedly in the angel's direction.
Castiel frowned slightly, looking down at his vessel.
At that moment, a heavyset waitress with enormous hair and gaudy fingernail paint strolled up to the table. Looking skeptically at Dean, she asked, "So, Big Shot, you gonna order a fourth, or did you finally run out of room?"
Dean stared at her, frozen. He could feel Castiel's eyes boring into him from across the table. With a forced smile, he said, "No, thank you, Ma'am. I think I'm ready to wrap it up here."
"Alright. You still want me bring over that slice of pie you asked for earlier?"
A tense moment of silence passed before Castiel's mellow voice echoed lowly from across the table. "Yes, Dean. What about the pie?"
Dean shut his eyes for a moment, wondering how much more uncomfortable this could possibly get. Opening his eyes, he met the waitresses again, and ground out firmly, "No, Ma'am. I'll just take the check, please." He finished with a tight smile that the woman blessedly understood as her cue to leave.
Castiel watched silently from a few feet away as the hunter fought a fierce internal battle between his pride, and his love of all things 'pie'.
Pride lost.
"Ma'am," Dean called out across the long length of the diner, "Could I, um...maybe I could get it in a to-go box…?"
"Sure thing, Sug," answered the tired waitress from the near the cash register. She ducked away into the kitchen.
The hunter drummed his fingers awkwardly on the table and made a show of looking absolutely anywhere but in Castiel's direction.
Castiel took the man's embarrassed distraction as a small blessing, because, in that moment, he felt the soft, bubbling sensation overflow and realized that he was 'smiling' broadly.
As soon as he noticed what was happening, he worked with manic desperation to contain the display of emotion before the hunter could witness it. Through considerable will power, he forced his features back into the usual expressionless mask.
A few seconds later, when Dean finally turned petulantly to face Castiel, he eyes widened and stared at the angel strangely. "Are you…okay, Cas?"
The angel felt his heart stutter in shock and he did a quick assessment of his facial features. After determining that they were holding firmly in a distinctly un-smiling position, he replied with false calm, "I am fine, Dean."
Dean gave him a strange, searching look, then replied, "Because you look kind of…distressed."
"I am sure that I do not," the angel stated firmly with confidence that was draining quickly as Dean looked on.
"You're even starting to sweat a-" he began slowly.
"That is not of import," Castiel forcibly interrupted. "I am taking up your valuable time. You have an urgent mission to complete with your brother."
"Yeah, but are you-"
"And an Apocalypse to prevent," the angel stated even louder, rising quickly from the table.
"Well, yeah, that's true. But-"
"And…and a large slice of pie to eat," this was half-shouted over his shoulder as he turned to flee with as much feigned dignity as he could muster.
But suddenly, Dean had him by the sleeve of his trench coat, forcing him to turn stiffly back around and face the alarmed hunter.
Dean released the angel's arm and looked closely at him, noting several alarming signs. The sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. The bright red ears. The nervously darting eyes, for once, not locking intensely onto his. Dean couldn't understand what was wrong with the angel.
He seemed almost…flustered.
That was new...
In an attempt to calm Castiel and keep him from fleeing, Dean decided to focus on something that they both took seriously- work.
"Look, Cas, relax. I'm obviously not in that big of a rush to close this case. We have time talk. I mean, you must have needed our help for something important. It's not like you came here just to see my handsome mug." Dean started to laugh at his own joke, but stopped short when his words seemed to backfire.
Castiel stiffened, huge blue eyes locked with Dean's in horror-
-and suddenly he just gone...
Dean stood alone in the corner of the empty diner, eyes blinking at the now empty space in confusion.
He went over everything he had said during the conversation, trying to pin point what had upset the angel so suddenly. Hell- all he'd really asked was why the weird dude was there. Why'd he have to go and get all flustered over a simple question?
After nearly a minute, he finally gave up. There was no point trying to make sense of Cas. If he needed something important, he'd pop back in eventually.
With an annoyed huff, Dean made his way toward the front counter, calling out irritably to the waitress in the back, "How much longer on that pie?"
...-^o^-...
Short and simple.