Before I begin, I'd like to say that this fic is canon divergent after "Scoobynatural."
Hoo boy, am I glad to finally post this. Welcome to my first romcom fic ever! I'm super nervous right now!
All the credit for making this readable goes to Allison/DarcyDelaney, my wonderful beta, and my wifeys, Naila/remyareyousrs, and Sanjy/SPNxBookworm for helping me tremendously through the proofreading (read: they proofread it for me while I panicked at work).
Usarechan, with the wonderful art, managed to keep me ever smiling. Go have a look, you guys! And please leave comments and praises on these posts (please replace "dot" with... well, the actual dot haha:
usarechandottumblrdotcom/post/180364925839/first-entry-for-winchesterpooja-the-nikkah-cas
usarechandottumblrdotcom/post/180365920029/second-entry-for-winchesterpooja-the-nikkah
Ellen/Lennelle has been the best cheerleader ever, even though I've been lurky for six months now.
Last, but not the least, I'd like to thank Muse and Jojo for hosting this every year and giving me a chance to write these idiots in love again!
I hope y'all enjoy this fic. It's super happy and light, and I didn't even give Sam as much grief as I usually do. I had this idea after seeing that Cas accidentally married a djinn on Scoobynatural. A Nikkah is a Muslim marriage, and this story is about... let's say, the aftermath of Cas's nikkah with a djinn. This story was so much fun to write, even though the humour bits were really hard, but I hope all of you dig it.
One: The Engagement
"Round that corner, come on, come on!"
They skid on the marble floors as they run together, shoes scuffing and slipping urgently against the smooth tiles and threatening to drop both of them into a pile on the floor. They've faced many dangers before, starting with the Devil, to demons to Amara and God and yet, somehow, nothing seems as threatening as what they're running from right now.
Dean glances to his side, at Cas, and he only needs a split second before he's got an idea. A crazy, whacky idea, but an idea that could potentially save both of them.
"Cas," he whispers, gulping a lungful of air and Cas, bless him, turns, trenchcoat billowing behind him. Dean doesn't talk again—he lurches sideways to grab Cas's hand. "Come on."
"Dean… what—?"
"I have…" Dean huffs, "a plan… but—" He cuts himself off to see their attackers right behind them, at their heels. "Shit, shitshitshitshitshit…"
"Swearing isn't going to help," Cas points out, as if that is going to help. Jesus. This dude.
They round a final corner—fuck Dean's pool winnings and their decision to stay in this fucking cushy hotel—and there it is, a beacon in the darkness…their only escape from this mess.
Their room.
"Come on." Dean pulls Cas inside, and Cas's hand is warm and firm in his, but he tries not to think of that. Once they're both inside they slam the door shut behind them, ignoring a moan of protest from a very drugged-up Sam lying in Dean's bed.
"Now what?" Cas asks Dean, as Dean bends over and catches his breath. He can hear the footsteps racing down the hall and they're coming…fuck, they're coming.
"Dude…" Dean looks up at Cas, a hand on his aching side. "You can't go…back to Syria, okay? I won't let you. Plus, we need you here."
"I know that, Dean," Cas hisses, agitated. The footsteps stop. There is a giant thud at their door. "You said you have an idea."
"Yeah, and—" Another thud. Dean glances at the door.
"And?" Cas pushes on.
"You have to go with me here, man. This is a fucking weird plan, okay?"
"Just say it, Dean! Tell me what I must do!"
Thud.
"Okay," Dean says. "Okay." He rushes to his duffel and slides a hand into one of the side-pockets. The thing he's looking for—he'd stopped wearing it long ago but it must be here… it must be somewhere… he had taken it out just a few weeks ago when he'd thought of Mom and Jack in that horrible little world—
"AHA!"
"Dean?" Cas calls out.
Thud.
Dean closes the little trinket in his palm, rushes to Cas, and stares at the door, which is almost off its hinges. Any minute now…
Thud.
The door crashes open in a pile of dust and debris and Dean gets to the floor.
"Dean! What are you doing?"
"S-Something I should have done a while back." The reply doesn't sound as heartfelt as Dean had hoped it would, but he doesn't care anymore. He grits his teeth, doesn't look at the invaders. He knows this is quick and sudden and weird but this isn't the worst thing he's done, even if it's not in his top ten favourite moments.
From the look on Cas's face, Dean also knows that this is maybe going a bit too far, but really, he can't think of another solution now. There's this, or there's losing Cas forever, and fuck if he's going to let that happen.
"Cas," he whispers, and Cas, in his shocked and alarmed state of mind is frozen in his place, brow shining with sweat and eyes wide with surprise.
For Dean is down on one knee, holding out his old silver ring in one hand.
He clears his throat.
"Castiel."
"Yes, Dean," Cas replies, and thank God, he seems to have caught on.
There is a beat of silence, only to be broken by a loud snore from Sam. Dean ignores his brother and gathers himself to say the next few words.
"I love you, Castiel, will you marry me?"
He's pretty sure he imagines the tears in Cas's eyes, when his friend nods his head. "Yes. Yes, Dean, I will marry you."
~o~
Then
They had been resting in the Dean Cave—just the two of them, Dean and Cas—catching up on Star Wars on a new TV and sharing a few beers. Sam was busy nerding out in the library, enjoying his stupid research or whatever, and it was at Dean's second bottle when his brother finally decided to show his face, claiming he'd found a case down in Dallas.
"Killer dentist, I think," he said, and Dean paused the movie right as Obi-Wan disappeared with his robes down on the floor in a heap. Sam took a moment to glance at the screen and continued. "The police can't find any evidence that the guy killed his patients, but every single person who's been to him in the last few days has died."
Dean ran a finger over the cool, sweaty glass of his bottle. "How do you know he's not just…you know. Shitty?"
Sam shrugged. "He could be. But every single patient? Come on, Dean, you gotta admit it's kinda odd."
"Hey, did you check if he flunked out of dental school?"
Sam's nostrils flared. "Dean. I know what I'm talking about. This is bizarre. The kind of stuff we definitely need to check out."
And, okay, it was their level of weird. Which was why Dean packed his bags to go. Cas offered to accompany them and help. They had no idea about the location of the Seal of Solomon yet so there wasn't much for Cas to do back here right now and Dean could understand that the dude would be bored sitting about alone in the bunker. Plus, whether they needed it or not, Sam would pack a few of those giant books in his duffel and bully Dean into helping with research, so they did not need a guy back home doing it for them.
They set off to Dallas with Sam catching up on research in the passenger seat. Cas helped him, and Dean had his own bit of fun letting Baby take on open blacktop and the beautiful countryside with Zeppelin playing in the background. He drove quickly and (in his view), efficiently, getting them to Dallas in record time with a lot of daylight to spare. This time, for once, they decided to invest in a nice hotel with marble floors and big rooms, because, God knows, after all the adventures the three of them had had of late, they deserved a nice hotel room.
~o~
Now
"You did what?!"
"We're engaged, okay?" Dean says, exasperated, as Sam, half-swollen face and all, stares at him from across the hotel room from his stupid bed. The dude just woke up five minutes ago from his loopy slumber and he's already giving Dean a hard fucking time.
Cas is out speaking with the djinns. He's talking to them about his and Dean's situation, and Dean is glad he doesn't have to be there when Cas is doing it.
"For real?" Sam asks, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, as though he's unable to process what Dean said.
"It's fake, obviously, but Cas is out talking with the djinns and he's… explaining."
"Explaining what?"
"That our engagement is real—to them, of course, and that, um—" Dean stops, not sure that he can go on from there. He wrings his palms together, unsure of what he's nervous about, but this whole thing is so damn dicey, he thinks he has a right to be nervous. He strains to listen for returning footsteps, for any sign that Cas is back, or for something that could give him an excuse to not tell Sam. He's not in the mood to be picked on by his stupid little brother right now.
"Dean," Sam says again, "you know I'll just ask Cas when he walks in, right?" A grin is forming on his face and a dimple appears, and Dean presses his lips together.
This is not cool.
"He wants… well, since he married the queen," Dean shrugs, "he's, uh, kinda trying to explain that it was a mistake and… he married her out of desperation—to help me, and we're… um, the two of us are not faking."
Sam raises an eyebrow. "So tell me this—he couldn't be desperate to help you because you're friends?"
"I don't know, man, if he needs a divorce from the queen, platonic love ain't cutting it."
"And you think they'll believe that?"
"They've gotta."
"Well, I'm not even believing it, Dean."
Dean frowns at his brother. "I told you it's fake just now, of course you ain't gonna believe it."
"No, not like…" Sam blows off a strand of hair that's hanging over his nose, "like, I know you two are like. Nine years!" He waves his hand about, indignant and huffy, and Dean has to roll his eyes.
"Get some sleep, dude."
"I just slept."
"Apparently that was not enough." Dean lifts himself from the bed and goes over to Sam, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Down you go, Sasquatch. Come on."
Sam resists him for a moment and looks up at him, his stupid thirty-four year-old face somehow seeming way younger. "Dean."
"Yeah, Sammy."
Sam stares at him from down there for another two minutes, puppy-dog eyes on full blast and nostrils flaring for a moment there, before he's crumbling—into fucking giggles. "FUCK!" he near-about roars, hugging himself as he bends over, and Dean wants to punch him.
"What the fuck, Sam?!" he says, stepping back. "Go to sleep, you moron!"
Sam snorts, curls into himself further. There's hair in his mouth—Jesus, he is so high.
"Stop fucking giggling," Dean repeats, to no avail. Sam is tomato-red now, and Dean is worried he's going to have an aneurysm from laughing.
"Fuck!" Sam repeats, cleaving through Dean's thoughts.
"Dude."
"Fuuuuuck! Fuck, fuck—" There are tears streaming down Sam's ruddy face now, large crinkles fanning out of the corner of his eyes. There are giggles, chuckles, and wheezes—the whole nine—coming out of Sam in an array of funny noises and sounds. He's obviously still very loopy from the meds, and really, what is so damn funny? It sure as hell is not funny to Dean, nor is it (hopefully) to Cas or the djinns.
Sam keeps laughing and Dean is in no mood to deal with whatever this is, so he tries to ignore his extremely amused brother as he goes to dig about in his duffel for his iPod. He needs a fucking break from this crap and some good music is just what will help him right now.
Sam wheezes, and there's another fuck, more giggling. He uncurls himself, coughing a little as he makes his way to the bathroom. The tap at the sink turns on, the soothing sound of gushing water suppressing some of Sam's chortles.
Dean rolls his eyes again. Idiot. He finds his iPod, pulls off his shoes and climbs into bed, plugging in his headphones, when Sam comes out of the bathroom with his face dripping wet and his hair askew. He runs a hand over that Rapunzel-ass bird's nest of his and it's suddenly all better and Dean fucking hates his brother for all that stupid hair.
"Stop being jealous of my hair," says Sam, as if he's read Dean's mind. He sits down on his bed with a grunt and buries his face in his hands, suddenly seeming a lot less happy than he was two minutes ago. Dean reaches his AC/DC playlist and is about to hit shuffle but Sam's loud groan from the other side gets him to pause in his actions.
"What, Sammy?"
"M' fucking face hurts," Sam replies, voice low and cranky.
"We're all getting screwed over in this stupid case," Dean says, "deal with it. At least they didn't zap you into some djinn world like they did me the last three times."
"You fucking deal with it," Sam growls. "You're engaged to Cas. Plus, lore says that djinns can give you some very bad toothaches apart from the dream thing. Thought you knew."
"Do I look like I'm the nerd in this room? And my being engaged to Cas makes it better how? Do you want to be engaged to Cas, since you think this is so fucking easy?"
"I mean, if it was that or this toothache—"
"No." Dean feels heat rush up to his cheeks. "You're – you're not—" He waggled a finger at Sam, "I won't let you!"
Sam looks up, eyebrows going up and forehead wrinkling in what Dean deciphers as incredulousness. "Dean," he says, "are you jealous?"
"No! I'm not! Shut up—"
"Dude," Sam folds his arms, "you're thick. I'm not doing anything, okay? He's just a friend to me. Like a brother. Are we cool?"
"I'm not jealous, Sam, will you fucking go back to sleep?"
"Really?" Sam asks him. "Not jealous? Do you even hear yourself right now?"
Dean can't take much more of his little brother's whining… or whatever this is. Okay, agreed, having to get your tooth removed is probably pretty bad, and a fake engagement is actually better than that shit, but Sam's taking on a different tone here that Dean's supposed to presumably understand.
He doesn't understand.
Sam huffs and lies down on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I thought I'm the one who's been drugged."
"And you are."
An eye peeks out from under the arm and Sam watches Dean for a minute.
A whole goddamned minute, before he once again bursts into peals of laughter.
~o~
Then
Dr. Dave Atkins seemed well-meaning and not at all like the type of monster that they expected him to be from all the deaths that were happening at his clinic. In fact, he was a regular dude—a human being who still had no clue why his patients were dying. A search of his office after he'd left was clean. No hex bags, no demonic shit, nothing. A search of his home was clean, too, and they'd covered every nook and cranny in there.
They even interviewed the hygienist and the dental assistants who worked with him, searched their houses and tried to find out if he had enemies, but noting came up. Atkins was living a normal life (up until now) doing his job the way it had to be done. His co-workers all agreed that the procedures his patients came in for were not particularly life-threatening, or something Atkins himself couldn't have handled.
It didn't make sense—nothing made sense until they paid a visit to Atkins's father, who lived in the old folks' home downtown. Mind and judgement clouded by Alzheimer's, Mr. Atkins had not said much, but the two coherent sentences he uttered at the end of interview brought everything into perspective.
"It was the djinns!" he said, waving a shaky towards the wall, as if they were around there. "Enid told me it would help Dave's failing practice but they don't help at all!"
That day as they headed to the car, Cas said something that Dean had almost never heard him say in the nine years of knowing him.
"Fuck."
"What?" Dean asked him, dreading the answer already.
"I'm married to Queen Aaliyah. Their queen. That deal was made after I killed a whole horde of them."
"So?"
"So," Cas rubbed a palm against his forehead, "you do understand I, and by extension, my friends, who consist of you and Sam, cannot harm any more of them unless we want the entire djinn community's wrath upon us?"
"Who's harming them?" Dean asked him. "We'll just stop them. No killing."
"Do you guarantee that?"
"… No." Dean paused in his thoughts and considered everything Cas had just said, making sense of it. He understood now, why Cas was so worked up.
He sighed. "Ah, fuck."
~o~
Now
"This is a lie. This is all a lie."
"Frank—"
"This is a darn lie, Cindy, and I know it."
Cas stares at the djinns, Frank and Cindy, and is thankful they cannot read his mind for this is all, indeed, a lie. It started with one, and it is twisting into a bigger lie right now.
He swallows. "I will divorce your queen shortly. She knows about the deal, and if she doesn't—"
"But…" Frank struggles, eyes showing disgust and disbelief. "Him? For him? That lumberjack?"
"He is a very good man and I would appreciate you not insulting him in this way," Cas replies, without missing a beat. "I do… I do love him. I am sorry. I should have told Malika Aaliyah as well."
Silence stretches between them and it seems to last forever. Frank opens and closes his mouth a few times but seems unable to speak up. Finally, he says, "We can't let you off like this. You have betrayed our queen—and us, and…"
Cas nods. "I understand there are going to be consequences. But…" He closes his fist, feeling the ring on his finger. "Leave my fiancé out of this."
Fiancé. The word sounds odd rolling off his tongue. Like something he'd never even considered. He's been married before and he's married again. Is it even legal to be someone's fiancé right now? All he knows is, he's doing it because this is the only way to get out of the marriage with the queen. By being Dean's fiancé.
Frank crosses his arms and Cindy pushes her hands into her pockets and Cas knows they're considering what he just said. After another minute or so, Cindy speaks again.
"You get a week," she says. Frank turns to her and she waves at him to be silent. "You will get a week to prove to us that this is not a fake-out. We will be watching every move of yours. Every. Move."
She narrows her eyes, strands of hair falling to her temples. A car honks somewhere and music blasts from the bar at the next street and people move on with their lives but Cas stays there, looking at yet another deal he's about to make.
He thinks of Sam, asleep in that room, and Dean, who's relying on him to make this better, and he nods. "All right. But you have to give us our privacy." He needs to talk to Sam and Dean without the djinns always spying on them and right now, this is the only way to get it.
"You can have that," Cindy says. She smirks. "We're not perverts."
"No, no, I—" Cas stops there, just on the brink of sabotaging himself, then thinks properly about what Cindy just said.
"Yes," he agrees. "When Dean and I engage in sexual intercourse, you may not spy on us. Or… even if – if we kiss."
"We'll give you five minutes after to become decent. Longer if it's more than a kiss."
Cas wants to argue for more but he feels like he has already crossed his limit, so he agrees. "Okay," he says, "for the next one week, Dean and I will prove to you that we are indeed in love."
"Bring it, Cowboy," says Cindy. "It's a deal."
"Yes. It's a deal."
~o~
Then
It did not take much for them to locate the djinns or their lair. In fact, it was painfully obvious when some more research led them to a café that the djinns regularly visited. Dean accompanied Sam and Cas there for a visit, weapons at the ready, but the djinns seemed pretty non-threatening. The barista even smiled at Cas's order for a tall glass of black coffee with no sugar.
"I would be glad, Ameer," he said, writing Cas's name down on the cup when he'd taken the order. "Give our regards to Malika Aaliyah."
Cas stiffened. "How did you hear of that," he started, glancing at the man's name tag, "Frank?"
"Of course we heard of your marriage to our Malika." The djinn looked all too happy about it, smile wider than the first one. "We are very glad to welcome an angel into our family. Congratulations."
Cas seemed uncomfortable, crinkles appearing between his eyebrows as he turned to Sam and Dean. "Yes. In Syria…"
"We would love to visit with you, when you go back to the queen," Frank replied. Dean moved forward to place his order and he seemed least interested in talking to Dean, which, Jesus, horrible customer service or what?
Cas cleared his throat. "Frank… I hate to say this, but—"
Dean immediately realised what Cas was about to tell the guy and he turned to Cas. "Dude, dude, maybe you should talk to Frank about this… after…?" He tried to hint at Cas that this was a bad idea, he really did, but damn if Cas wasn't the worst at taking hints.
He pushed Dean away instead. "I can't keep explaining my situation with the queen. They deserve to know the truth, Dean, so let me tell him."
"Tell us what?" Frank asked him, and a few more of the staff—other djinns, by the look of it, accumulated around him. Thank God that Sam, Dean, and Cas were the only ones here to see the drama but it was getting painfully obvious that they were outnumbered by the djinns.
"Yeah, tell us what?" the djinn standing behind Frank repeated.
"The marriage was a deal. I needed the fruits from the Tree of Life and…" Cas stopped there, hoping the situation would explain itself from there.
It did.
There was silence. Silence that Dean couldn't have smashed with a brick.
He could feel it spiralling right from there.
Frank held his own. "So. Your marriage to our queen was… a betrayal? After you killed so many of our friends, this is what you did? Betrayed the queen?"
"No, it's a deal," Cas said, and when Dean kicked his ankle—
"Dean, that is unnecessary and quite painful."
"Dude, shut up," Dean said under his breath, leaning close to Cas's ear. "Take your damn coffee, and let's get the fuck out of here and figure out another way to this."
"I am telling them the truth," said Cas, like the pigheaded bastard that he was. "Frank, I am not in love with your queen, I will not be coming to Syria, and this was just a business deal. As for what I did to your colleagues, I hope you understand, but it was a part of the fight, and it was important for me to get those fruits. I was hoping Queen Aaliyah knew of this, as my intentions were clear when I made the deal, but I will travel myself to confirm."
"Confirm, huh?" the djinn who stood behind Frank asked. "Cindy," she said, giving her hand for Cas to shake. "You think you can control everything?"
"I cannot control anything," said Cas, "except for the deals I make, and I thought that was evident."
Cindy leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "Well then, I hope what we feel about the fact that you killed so many of us, as well as your so-called deal with Malika Aaliyah is clear, too, dear Ameer." Her eyes roved over to Dean, then Sam, as if she were searching for something, and a moment later, she smirked.
"Good luck, boys."
It took a few seconds, maybe more, and Dean was about to laugh, about to be stupid about this, when it happened.
"Aargh!"
It was Sam. Dean and Cas turned to see Sam curl in on himself, hand cupping his right cheek.
"Sammy!" Dean called out, going to his brother, hand on his shoulder as Cas stayed between him and the djinns. "What happened?!"
Sam looked up, agony in his eyes, glare directed at Cindy.
"It's my fucking tooth," he said. "She did something to my tooth!"
~o~
Now
Cas is a little relieved, a little distressed when he gets back into the room. Dean pauses Back in Black and takes off his headphones and watches his friend shut the door behind him. He makes room on his bed so Cas can come and sit next to him, and Cas does just that.
Dean takes a look at Cas's tired eyes and slumped posture as he leans back against the headboard, arms crossed. "So?"
"I have to divorce the queen," Cas says, like this is some boring soap opera they're talking about, and not Cas's actual fucking life. The dude can be ambivalent about the weirdest of shit. Okay, he is kinda bothered by what's happening but clearly not as bothered as any normal person would be.
Then again, Cas is not technically a person.
Dean continues to stare at Cas. "And that's it?"
"Yes, I have to speak to her and divorce her, and it's over."
"And we can put all of this behind? The…?" Dean looks over at the silver ring adorning Cas's finger, unable to get himself to say "engagement." What an absolute clusterfuck.
"Yes."
Sam punctuates the mood of the situation with a particularly loud snore and Dean lets out a whispery breath at the same time. "What's the catch? There's always a catch."
"There is no catch," says Cas. "We only need to prove to them that you and I are really engaged."
"What, that big-ass ring on your finger isn't convincing enough for them?" Dean nods at Cas's hand.
"The engagement could still be feigned," Cas says. "They did just see you propose ten minutes ago, while we were being chased, Dean, and until then we seemed like no more than friends to them. It is fair that they want us to prove our love to them."
"What?! Cas, you know this is fake—mmfgh…" Dean is cut off when Cas kisses him, sudden and unexpected, and he blinks, unable to react, when Cas pulls away.
Cas holds Dean's hand and stays close, bringing his mouth to Dean's ear.
"They are watching us," he murmurs, breath warm against Dean's skin. "I'm sorry, I should have asked for your consent before kissing you, but that is the only way to keep us hidden from the surveillance. They said they will watch us for a week and we have to convince them that we are indeed in love—so that will prove the engagement is real. This is the only way we get to be private, they agreed to give us five minutes alone whenever we're kissing and more when we are… being intimate."
Dean shudders at that word, and Cas takes in a breath. "Do I have consent to kiss you or hold your hand in an imitation of intimacy when we need to speak about anything of import?" he asks. "You have my consent too, and I will try not to make it uncomfortable."
Too late, Dean thinks. Blood rushes up his cheeks… and it's all too warm and suffocating. There seems to be a frog in his throat and Cas, still very close to him, stays like that, like it's perfectly normal. Dean wants to push him away but he also… he doesn't wanna do that. Not now.
He swallows. "Of course you have my consent, Cas. And, um… what do we do when… you know, we need more than five minutes to talk without them listening in?"
Cas moves, then his lips are on Dean's again. The kiss is swift and when he pulls away, Dean has to bite his lip to keep from grunting. Cas's eyes go down to look at his own lap, as if he is a little shy. "I'm sorry, Dean," he says, a little hoarse, "but we have to keep doing this to buy us more time alone."
Sam snores again and Dean fidgets with Cas's hand in his. "There's no other way to end this, is there?"
"No."
"All right, then. Guess we're gettin' lovey-dovey," Dean says, shaking his head. "Fucking stupid situations that we get into sometimes…"
It's going to be a long-ass week and boy, Dean sure isn't looking forward to any of it.
~o~
Then
Dean sat at the dentist's office with Cas by his side. Sam was in the chair now, getting his tooth looked at, as the doctor bent over him with his instruments. This guy was different from Atkins, and not anywhere close to being related to djinns, as Dean had made sure, but Sam was in a lot of pain and they'd had to come here as soon as they could. The doctor took a few X-rays first, then took a good look at Sam's teeth.
"Your wisdom tooth is in very bad condition," the doctor said, voice slightly muffled by his mask, as he held a mirror to Sam's teeth. "Are you sure the pain wasn't there earlier? This kind of damage takes a while."
Sam obviously couldn't answer with the mirror and probe in his mouth, so Dean obliged. "He's been talking about pain for a few days now, Doc. It got really bad today."
"Didn't you think to get it checked before?"
"No, no, my little brother can be a little negligent," Dean replied, catching Sam's eye and earning a bitchface from him. "He's scared of dentists, too."
Unbeknownst to the doctor, Sam gave Dean the finger, and Dean turned away, trying not to laugh.
"Anyway," said the doctor, putting down the instruments and moving back, "I need to get that tooth out, at the very least. You'll need a couple of check-ups after to make sure there isn't any infection. This is a little complicated."
Sam seemed mildly terrified in his seat, the light from the overhead lamp falling sharply on the edges of his cheekbones. Dean could see the sheen of sweat that was building on his forehead.
"O-Okay," said Sam, "right now?"
"Since you're experiencing so much pain, I would suggest getting it done now but if not, you need to do it this week."
Sam looked at Dean, as if asking for help, and Dean felt his heart sink. As funny as this situation was, Sammy in pain was never a nice thing to witness. He cleared his throat. "Go for it, man. Cas and I are there to take you back right now. Let's just get this over with."
Sam swallowed, paling further, took a deep breath, and nodded. "All right… we'll… we'll get it done now."
0
Sam was so out of it after his dental procedure that Dean was glad to have Cas around to help him haul Sam's gigantic ass into the car and drive him back. Sam slept the whole way, drooling a string of bloody saliva onto Dean's upholstery, limbs as steady as overboiled spaghetti when they tried to take him back.
The hotel offered a wheelchair to get him into the room and for the first time that day, Dean was glad he chose to spend some extra money.
They got Sam settled in bed, ignoring his incoherent muttering, and Dean went to pick up the ice bucket. He pocketed his phone and turned to Cas, who was sitting on Dean's bed and staring at Sam.
"Wanna go get some ice, Cas?" Dean asked him.
Cas did not reply for a moment, but then he looked up at Dean, at the little bucket in his hand, and nodded. "Sure. Come on." He got up and joined Dean and the two of them made their way to the vending machines to get some ice. Cas stood by as Dean shovelled ice into the bucket, and all was quiet until Dean suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped, spilling cubes of ice on the floor. "Jesus, Cas, at least say something before you—"
"Dean. They're here."
Dean turned around, not wanting to ask who, because he knew. Sure enough, Frank and Cindy were standing a few feet away, Cindy smug as ever and Frank's eyes dark and almost dangerous.
Cindy took off a glove, fingers glowing with a spark of blue. "Hello, Dean. Ameer Castiel," she said. "How is Sam? Are you still happy you betrayed our queen?"
Dean did not need to think very hard to do what he did next. Ice bucket be damned, he pulled Cas's hand into his and whispered into his friend's ear. "Run."
~o~
Now
"They're not in love," Frank tells Cindy as they watch Castiel go back to his so-called fiancé. Cindy watches him leave and nods, because she knows; but she is not stupid.
"I still think that deal is not our best," she says. "They seem to be very convincing."
"They can't convince us," Frank tells her. "It will be fun to watch, but you know how it's going to turn out."
She shrugs. "I guess. I just hope we're right about this, or it's going to be a big screw up."
"Nah," he replies. "I think we should have a betting pool on how many times they'll try to act all romantic until they're grossed out."
She smirks at him, but nods. "Gambling is bad, Frank. But you know, let's discuss it with the others."
"Yes, let's." He puts an arm around her and they head back home, knowing full well that catching these two fools in their blatant lie is probably going to be more entertainment than they have had for a while. Cindy is so down for this one. Liars are her least favourite people and these two will pay way more than they anticipated.
Just like that dentist's dad for making his deal and not keeping up with his payment.