AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Told you I was gonna venture into a few other fandoms. I am a solid Destiel shipper, so excuse my OTP. This is just a little fun, and a little experimenting into the present-tense style of writing. I'm pretty sure I've botched up the tense, but meh - 't will have to do :D

I'm thinking of doing a ABFOB-length Destiel fanfic in the future. Maybe alongside the AFBOB-sequel? Maybe afterwards. It needs LOTS of planning. It needs some time to develop. I think I might write it alongside, but publish it after the AFBOB-sequel, for the benefit of those who want to focus on the sequel (and also so that I can post fast daily updates when I choose to put it up!)

K, enjoy this fluffy uber-pointless sugar-sweet fic guys!

~puui x

The duty of doing the supplies run always starts with some sort of hand-ritual and an excessive amount testosterone building in the Singer residence living room. Castiel observes the brothers square up their shoulders, straighten their backs (Gabriel calls this part – 'sizing up'), and then hunch forwards with their right hands clenched in tight fists.

He eyes the tension in their bodies with some foreboding, wondering what on earth provoked this hostility, and prepares himself to step between them if it comes to throwing punches. He is therefore very confused when they beat their hands thrice on their left palms – eyes narrowed, teeth bared. This level of aggression suggests there was something more behind this than a simple reluctance to buy groceries. Castiel watches Dean's nostrils flare, eyes wild – Sam throwing his hands up, whooping victoriously with the final strike.

"Son of a bitch!"

Dean's trademark curse-words bring no surprise to anyone, though their utterance is totally unwarranted as far as Castiel can see. He trails his eyes up and down the scene, looking for what may have prompted Dean's disgusted scowl, but finds nothing. Then Sam shakes his fist, grunting in the most undignified way. He is gloating, Castiel realises. Somehow, he has won this battle.

"Dean, you have to learn, man," Sam grins. "You choose the same damn thing every time,"

Castiel is even more confused with this whole display and watches Dean glower at his hands as if they have personally failed him. The 'peace sign' (as Gabriel had demonstrated to him, in a spontaneous fit of boredom) he presents to Sam is positioned wrongly. Castiel reaches forwards to correct it, tilting his wrist the other way. Dean glances at him, bewildered, but says nothing. Sam hands him the list, a couple twenties and outlines which specific things they need, need, Dean. He raises his eyebrows to stress this requirement, because he wouldn't put it past Dean to ignore Sam's particular brand of deodorant in a sorry attempt at payback. But perhaps this worry isn't necessary. Everyone knows Dean's complaints of Sam's body odour, particularly in the cramped Impala after a long day Hunting, or Del Taco.

He offers to assist in shopping on the account that he knows Dean finds him being in shops (or any public place that requires human interaction) utterly hilarious, and whilst he doesn't enjoy being ridiculed he is willing to provide some levity to his mood. Castiel doesn't really understand Dean's mirth when he snorts every time he attempts to reply to small-talk with the customers in line, like he has seen people do on television. Is it his fault that these people do not know how to stand in silence for a few minutes? They have to speak to him, asking why they are purchasing so much salt in the summer, who is eating all the pie, whoa – that's a lot of candy, and are they having a giant barbecue or something since they're purchasing so many burgers. Castiel knows Dean is not a sadistic man, but he has eyes - he can see him take pleasure in leaving him to fend for himself in the long, expectant silence that follows such questions.

After spending time with the Winchesters, Castiel has learnt what answers he is not allowed to say.

There is, he finds, very little he can say, in lieu of – "We have run out of salt, after purifying and burning the remains of a tormented civilian, who was haunting the parish," – and he wonders if Dean will find it as embarrassing if he admits the pies are for him, in the same way that the burgers are for Castiel. He usually decides that he can answer one of the questions, because Gabriel has no shame: "The candy is for my brother," he would declare, pausing only momentarily as he lauds the freedom of interpretation the human language allows. His smirk would be barely there, "It is all for him," he would watch the patrons' eyes widen in shock, or blink in dumb disbelief. Think what they will, he will usually spot Dean snorting at his fun, and narrow his eyes – "But the pies are for Dean," he would quickly add.

Anyhow - this time Dean doesn't accept his (kind) offer, so Castiel watches him stomp upstairs to grab his jacket, tug on his boots and leave the yard in a cloud of dust, eager to get it over with as fast as physically possible. Both brothers detest grocery shopping even more than dealing with ghosts, but less than dealing with witches. He waits in the library with Bobby, endeavouring to clear up some of the mess whilst the old man whines but does nothing to stop him. He waits - he knows he has no obligation to wait for Dean, yet he still finds himself doing it. Waiting is different than simply wasting idle time, because he finds himself glancing out of the windows every so often in anticipation of seeing the dust cloud approach again, and listening for the familiar purr of that well-loved engine.

Sam comes into the room with his laptop underarm, still exuding a ridiculous amount of smugness and satisfaction from the strange, unexplainable victory he won as he plops down on the sofa. Gabriel is the last to join them, rubbing his eyes sleepily and demanding pancakes from them, even when he knows he can make better pancakes with a snap of his fingers. He enjoys being difficult.

When he spots Sam's exuberant grin, he smirks and high-fives him, taking in Bobby's exasperated rolling of eyes with an even wider smile.

Gabriel's presence in the Singer-Winchester family household seems to have encouraged more childish displays – such as prank-wars, food-wars and name-calling – not that they weren't present before his arrival, but since then they have grown exponentially in frequency and magnitude, much to Bobby's dismay. The oldest Hunter constantly bemoans the way they are sabotaging over his life, his house and his ageing process, but Castiel can see the lack of fire behind his grievances because the ruckus fills the house with noise and laughter even if it does his head in. These days the Winchesters smile a lot more and are enjoying life, so if a little house-battering and premature hair-loss are necessary for this warm house full of crazy, happy people… Bobby can't complain.

Only… he can. So he does.

And he whips Sam's on his posterior on his way to the fridge for a beer (at only 10AM in the morning, Gabriel remarks glibly, more with esteem than disapproval) with a heavy tome, barking at him to fix the damn roof for the umpteenth time already, and wash that bloody corn-syrup off his porch sometime today.

Castiel glances again at the window, estimating the length of time it will take for Dean to collect all the supplies in the mood that he's in. He will have scared half the shop assistants off by the time he'd stepped foot the establishment and have to resort to searching for each item unassisted, which will make him even grumpier when he can't understand the layout of the store or if he finds something out of stock. Castiel still doesn't understand why his brother doesn't simply snap up their supplies, which would save them time and (fake) money. Perhaps it is because they are at a time in life where there are surprisingly few cases for them to take, the failed Apocalypse having dragged quite a number of monsters back into Hell, leaving them a small window of time to take to relax in their triumph. Gabriel calls it a holiday. Sam calls it a blessing and Dean calls it 'freaking suspicious'.

But since Gabriel outranks them all, in terms of… well, everything really – he dubs it a holiday, and declares the Singer residence his and Castiel's free hotel of sorts. He refuses to use an ounce of Grace to do a thing anymore, claiming that he wishes to see life in the perspective of the mud-monkeys they have saved to see if it was worth saving at all. He commands Castiel does this too.

They have been living like humans for a month now, and Castiel misses using his Grace for one particular reason.

Transportation. With Grace he could fly to wherever and whenever he wanted. It was something he had always loved to do – flying was a human dream, but for angels it was as fundamental as being. It was simply what they did, everywhere, anywhere… Castiel stares out of the window, forlorn.

Sulking.

"S'up,"

Gabriel is munching on a Toblerone which was… not there previously. He is sure of it. All the candy in the house is gone, which is why a good portion of Dean's shopping will be spent in that aisle. Did Gabriel zapped it up? With his Grace? When he had the audacity to block all of Castiel's Grace? Castiel eyes the chocolate bar like it was his mortal enemy.

His brother merely rips another chunk off with his teeth and holds out the rest to him, "Aww, cheer up, bro. Want some?"

Castiel chooses not to even deign this with an answer. Gabriel knows he is annoyed at him. He revels in it.

"Suit yourself," he shoves the whole rest of it down his throat without chewing, causing Sam to sputter in disbelief and Bobby to wrinkle his nose.

Castiel finally takes a seat next to Sam's feet when he gives up on hoping Dean's return will be swift. It is a lost hope. Dean is probably stuck in the aisles full of confectionary, knowing what may befall him if he doesn't heed Gabriel's demands - never mind if he didn't use his Grace.

The house is terribly quiet with the absence of only one of its inhabitants. Castiel suspects the whispering he hears above his head is his brother and Sam are plotting their retaliation against Dean's surprise meatloaf last night, and Bobby has retreated downstairs to continue with the refurbishing of the panic room. Now that they have all used it at one time or another, they were all in agreement that it needed a little more furnishing, perhaps some decoration that didn't pertain to keeping the Devil out. Maybe even a TV.

He leans into Sam's side unconsciously. The action isn't unwelcome to anyone. When Dean is gone, even on short trips like these, there is an empty space in Castiel's world. A void. It's like he's lost without orbit, a moon without its planet. He has to apply his gravity to something, or someone, or else he'll drift away. The nearest, closest alternative is Sam, because Sam is human and large enough to be a planet, and Sam is kind enough not to make a big deal out of Castiel's clinginess (like Gabriel would). Sam only fidgets a little as Castiel settles in beside him, but he adjusts easily and then he is back to evil-cackling and revenge-scheming with Gabriel. Castiel chooses not to criticise them, because last night's meatloaf had been odd-tasting. He was sure they'd run out of meat - which was one of the main ingredients on the shopping list - which also made him question what was in that 'meat'loaf, and yet he'd eaten it too.

Gabriel guffaws at something Sam suggests, an answering laugh shaking Castiel like an earthquake ripped through Sam, but it is almost like being rocked a little and just from this, Castiel understands why humans rock their children to sleep. It is soothing with Sam's steady breaths, his furnace-like heat and their voices hushed for his sake, muffled under his upturned collar and Sam's shoulder pressed against his ear. Castiel is distantly aware of the door opening, heavy footsteps stomping into the room and something being purposefully dropped onto the hardwood floor. He knows it is Dean. Dean is home. That's all he needs to know for him to drop out like a light. As he slumps completely onto Sam's lap, he hears Gabriel cooing, Sam laughing, Bobby grumbling and he can feel Dean grinning.

He sleeps.

Castiel wakes slowly in smooth, gradual stages of growing awareness. It is between night time and morning, but slightly too early to be dawn. The room is plunged in deep, plum purple and indigo and it smells damp and dewy. Again, footsteps register - but they stay at the back of his mind - because he is busy admiring the beauty of the brightening sky through the misted window. It's only when the sofa dips and a hand cards through his hair that Castiel decides to leave the wonder of the morning and greet Dean with a yawn.

Dean's face creases with laughter, amusement rolling off him in waves. He places a paper cup on the floor by Castiel's feet, taking the chance when he's distracted to flip up his feet and slide next to him.

"You okay, Cas?" he asks, still pleased with catching Castiel's bleary morning face and having a steaming cup of hot 'Joe. He sobers up a little, seeing as Castiel is staring at him blankly – not that this is anything new, but his befuddled, ruffled appearance is distracting. "What happened yesterday? I came back and found you passed out on Sammy. Did Gabe give you some angel roofies for the kicks? I told you not to eat anything that nutcase snaps up,"

Castiel struggles with all the words. He is still slow to wake, still new to sleeping. The transition from 'off' to 'on' continues to confound him. Even as a fully restored angel, he retains the ability and habit of sleeping from his time spent with these hunters, but he's not sure whether he likes it. Now Dean looks slightly more worried by his prolonged silence. He slurps some caffeine down, burning his tongue but barely flinching at it, and turns his full attention to Castiel.

"Hey, man, you're starting to freak me out. Say something,"

"I was not tired before, but I am now. Why is this, Dean? I have slept through the day and night,"

Dean quirks his eyebrow, "Heck if I know. It happens sometimes, I guess,"

Castiel only nods, he doesn't pretend to understand this at all, because neither does Dean. His jaw cracks in another longer yawn, and he rubs his eyes. "You don't usually wake at this hour,"

Dean shrugs, "Wasn't asleep. Needed some air, so I brought us some coffee,"

"Hmm," he nudges the cup with one foot. Then, finding the warmth of the beverage much more pleasant than the biting cold wooden floor, he curls his foot around the cup. Dean watches with a funny expression of bewilderment and fond exasperation. He's seen that look a million times from both Winchesters, like he's doing something strange, but since it's not affecting society – Castiel knows that the look Dean is giving him means what he's doing is something he sort of, kind of likes 'because it's so Cas'. He takes that as a compliment.

Castiel's other foot is on Dean's lap, held there by one hand . It is a new development – Dean's new-found confidence in showing affection in front of others – growing day by day, he is building up the courage to be with Castiel even around those he fears will judge them. But Bobby barely says a word about them - but not in a bad way. He takes it all in his stride - because to him it's always been inevitable from the get-go, and to comment on it would be stating the obvious. From the moment Dean stabbed Cas in the chest in that bunker, he knew those two were weird for each other.

Sam reacts in a number of ways, but all of them can be summed up in the phrase 'I told you'. Gabriel just smirks.

He enjoys the attention, the acceptance and affection. It strengthens their bond, and makes him feel… it makes him feel so many things, he cannot put into words how much it means to know that Dean is willing to be – to be with him.

Castiel wants to get closer, so like he always does, he does not hesitate.

But as he leans in and begins to swivel around, there is a little noise.

He freezes mid-swivel, feet in the air, eyes flicking around warily. He is supporting his weight on his arms, and when he deems the noise imaginary, he twists the rest of the way into Dean's arms –

It happens again.

But before he can question it, Dean is pulling him up and against him and presses him to his chest with his arms loose and relaxed around him, and he can feel the strain of Dean's chest containing laughter ready to burst forth. He looks up to him for answers, because there is evidently nothing to worry about if Dean is behaving like this. In fact, since Dean is holding back an enormous peal of laughter, Castiel all but melts into his side.

And the noise rings. It is a tiny sound, delicate and almost musical. It is a bell, but where this bell is hidden, Castiel does not know. His eyes narrow and he turns around, the ringing following him with every movement. Dean is barely managing to keep his mouth shut, and is gasping for breath. He would appreciate the fact that he is withholding from laughing at him, but the fact is that he knows he is being made the 'butt' of some joke, and he wants to get to the bottom of it without shoving Dean off the sofa.

"Dean," he starts, jerking when a hot breath touches his shoulder and noses into his collar. "Dean," he repeats urgently, wanting to know – needing to know the cause of this hilarity. But by now Castiel is sharing in the humour. Dean's laughter is infectious and Castiel loves it.

Even though the ambience has definitely changed from 'morning sleepyhead' to something a bit more intimate, there is still the undercurrent of humour which lightens the mood and prevents Dean's snuffling breaths against Castiel's neck from going in the R-rated direction. Castiel finds his cheeks aching from smiling without knowing he was, beaming so hard his tongue squeaks on his dry teeth when he tries to lick his lips. He jumps when he feels Dean's lips making hot, moist contact with his cheek and nosing down to his neck again. He feels teeth against his skin and gasps when they scrape his stubble and down along the sensitive curve of his clavicle.

Now this is getting R-rated.

But before he can return the favour or murmur encouragement, he hears the bell ring again and feels something tug the back of his neck. Castiel reaches up to touch it and finds a thin band of leather catching in the hair at the nape of his neck. He follows it round to the front, to where Dean's lips currently are, and traces them reverently.

"Dean?" this time it's a blatant question, because he can't understand what was going on, and can only assume the bell is in Dean's mouth. It's on a leather cord, in Dean's mouth. It rings again, so he guesses Dean is rolling it on his tongue, and he grins despite himself. What on earth is going on? He barely understands what is going on, and yet he finds it enjoyable - pleasant, even - so his ignorance isn't frustrating to him in this instance, in fact - it adds to the hilarity of the situation. Finally Dean pulls back, leaving a kiss on his fingers and throat before he turns to him with a face full of glee.

Castiel fumbles with the small round bell, shaking it around a little. He finds the noise not unpleasant, but the question still remains – what is it for?

So far, he has only managed to say 'Dean' multiple times. Perhaps that was not enough to appropriate an answer.

Lucky for him though, he doesn't have to say another word.

"What's this Dean-o? A little kinky for our Cas, ain't it?"

Perhaps not so lucky.

Confound it. Gabriel has the worst timing. Dean was so shocked by his sudden appearance that he sent Castiel tumbling to the floor in his surprise, Castiel lands in the space Gabriel had occupied a fraction of a second ago, but his lousy brother hadn't even tried to catch him – he much preferred watching his little brother fall flat on his ass. It should be more humiliating than it was, but since 'assbutt', Castiel had become the 'butt' of many of Gabriel's jokes, so now he was used to and resilient in the face of embarrassment.

Dean scowls at Gabriel nonetheless, and pulls Castiel back on his lap. He flushes at the laugh and mischievous glare he receives for that action, but refuses to use Castiel as a shield, especially when he knows Castiel is most likely frowning at the word 'kinky', knowing its meaning but not understanding its context (probably) in Gabriel's question. With their luck, Dean spots Sam scratching his nose behind Gabe (how the heck he might miss his oversized brother behind the pint-sized archangel was a mystery) and Bobby lurking in the kitchen.

Goddamn it.

"Is that… a collar?" Sam looks like it's painful for him even to voice that question, his entire face bursting into a mortified blush, so both brothers were in the same sorry tomato-faced state. Despite wanting to be anywhere else but there, Sam's curiosity was piqued, which according to Dean meant that he had to satisfy it or else he'd explode. So he braves a step forwards, bending a little and squinting down at Castiel's neck. The angel uncharacteristically squirms at the scrutiny and Dean's arms tighten a little around him.

"It's… a pet collar. A pet collar, Dean," he stumbles away from the pair like they bore some sort of hellish disease, screwing up his eyes in the way that meant he was in the process of 'mind-bleaching' certain unwanted and improper thoughts. "No, Dean. Just... no," he mutters, backing away right into the kitchen, where he consoles himself by stealing one of Bobby's eggs.

"It's not what you think!" Dean protests half-heartedly. Castiel's head whips back and forth between the two Winchesters in a repeat of the confusion he'd had hours before - like the strange hand-ritual-contest, he is utterly lost on the meaning of it all.

Gabriel is of no help. He just stands there, gleefully milking every second of awkward, uncomfortable, red-faced shame and shifty-eyed what-the-hell-do-we-do-now bouncing from hunter to angel back to hunter.

"So," he takes a seat on the floor, gazing up at them like it's story-time. "What's with the accessorising? Are you flaunting your kinky thing going on with my brother? Most people do that a little differently, you know - with a ring. Some cake, champagne. Any of this ringing a bell? Do you listen to Beyonce?"

"Oh God, just stop," Dean blurted, "It's – you are disgusting. I don't wanna know what's going through your dirty little mind, but this," he pats Castiel's throat, "Is not kinky. It's totally innocent and... and between Cas and I,"

Gabriel's eyes twinkle, the Prankster King winks, "Oh yeah? Pray do tell,"

Dean's eyebrows drop down like a SWAT team on Gabriel's sass, and knit together in fury.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" he shakes Castiel's shoulders and then points at himself, "Between Cas and I,"

"Yeah," Gabriel stuffs a sucker in his mouth, "Your grammar is appalling as ever, sweet-cheeks. 'Cas and me' - I digress - but anyway, pray tell what the thing between you and Cas is?"

"You know exactly what it is," Dean grits out, causing Castiel to jerk back in question. He hushes him, glaring at Gabriel for his unhelpful silence. "Come on, leave it alone. Go dive in the mountain of pocky I got you,"

"Oh alright," he rolls his eyes, turning his gaze onto his brother and practically rubbing his hands together. Dean shifts uncomfortably, "But first-"

"Gabe," Dean begs, but the archangel barely spares him a glance.

"The innocent one has a right to know," he declares, like he's a news reporter with God-given rights to spread the juicy news, much to Dean's consternation - "Dean-o here gets lonely when you're away, lil bro," he explains with surprising tact, "You see, he gets why you're so busy all the time, but sometimes he just needs his snuggles with his cutie-patootie, y'know?" Scratch that, he spoke too soon.

Castiel can feel Dean's leg muscles tensing as he wants to escape, so he settles his weight down more accordingly. He himself is elated by this admission. He knows Dean cares for him, but only yesterday he'd lamented Dean's absence like his very Grace had been taken from him, even though they were separate for only hours. To think that his yearning was not one-sided made him swell up with pure happiness.

He nods, a little smile appearing when the bell chimed like confirmation of this.

Gabriel's smile softens, mellowing into something a little more genuine for his little brother. He loved seeing his brother like this. It also made Dean more tolerable too when he saw how happy he made his littlest, sweetest brother, and Gabriel could spend forever admiring the pretty picture they made... But he sensed his partner-in-crime approaching, and chose to use his presence to break up the sweet little moment, because they both had some serious Dean-payback to deal. (And Gabriel was already getting too soft in his old age - it wouldn't do to bask in the sweetness of his baby bro's adorable love life, would it?)

Even love can't get in the way of that. No sir.

"That doesn't explain this," Sam points at the bell. He dares not approach them any closer and munches on his pilfered toast in the doorway. Gabriel snaps a muffin into his other hand in thanks to his excellent timing. Castiel scowls at his use of Grace - he was breaking his own rules!

"Well, Dean has realised that if he can't have Cas all the time, he wants to at least be able to know when he's around. It's come to El Deano's attention that my lil bro is a sneaky little boo-boo in the daytime, and a creeper by night," at Sam's blank, yet horrified stare, he explains, "Cas hangs around in secret. You know we can be invisible, right?"

Sam drops the muffin.

It's Castiel's turn to squirm now.

Gabriel enjoys their mortified expressions and snaps some muffins and baked goods into Sam's arms as a reward for the entertainment. He clings to them absently, still frozen with half a chewed bite displayed in his open mouth - the implication of what Gabriel had just revealed was... was...

"Tu hermano's not as dumb as he looks - though that may be difficult to believe - he's noticed Cas' little visits in the night and doesn't appreciate being watched by the unseen. You know that this kind of visitation is frowned upon by most people?" he directs the question to his heavily blushing brother, impressed that Dean hadn't removed himself from this incredibly, sickeningly chick-flicky moment. "Can be seen as stalking, an invasion of privacy - and you, little brother, have done quite some invading of the 'private kind'-"

"Oh god, do I want to know any more?"

"Serves you right, bitch," Dean grumbles, but Gabriel takes pity on Sam and shoos him away to Bobby, where the older hunter exclaims at the number of donuts stuffed in Sam's arms.

But then he realised it is quite simply too good a situation (and a donut) to shoo away, so he brings Sammy back -

Who is valiantly attempting to stuff his ears with cookie crumbs and blind himself with butter cream.

Gabriel continues to stir the pot.

"As I was saying – Dean isn't as dumb as-"

"Yeah, we got that part thanks," Dean interjects.

"- he looks. He talked to me about Cassie's iffy doings so I pitied him. Makes it mighty difficult to scratch your ass in peace when you know someone's watching, doesn't it Dean-o?" Silence. Utter, fuming silence. "Which is why I figured that what you two need is some quality time together, I instigated the 'Post-Apocalyptic Holidays' for you, and grounded Cas' Grace to keep him here. And so – Dean's gets his cuddle-time and Cas doesn't need to do his sneaking around. Cas getting to see what he's missing might teach him to stop being a little creeper and actually reveal himself to his man, I mean – not in the 'au naturelle' way, but as in-"

"Shut up now, Gabe, please," Dean barks desperately, watching his brother blinking rapidly in concern. He wasn't having an embarrass-induced fit was he? Is that even possible, or have the cookie crumbs hit his brain?

"- joining the party, lil bro!" Gabriel shrug artlessly, "All my part in this was encouraging Cassie to join in instead of watching his sweetheart from a fluffy cloud. I have to admit, I have no idea what part of the plan included collars, but if there are whips and leashes involved, we need to talk about-"

"Oh hell-"

"-decency in public-"

"Gabriel!"

"-safe words-"

"Why can I still hear you?"

The uproar Gabriel leaves them in his wake makes something warm tingle in his heart at a job well done.

Castiel flings himself out of Dean's arms the second Gabriel disappears, Sam is still flailing in horror, Bobby is opening his second beer and Dean just doesn't know what to do.

Damn that trickster.

"Cas – Cas!" he calls, stopping the angel from leaving. Castiel had been trying to zap himself away - but is still grounded, so he's resorting to storming out of the room. Sam is gone, but lurks in the doorway. There is enough space between his brother and Castiel, and not enough lovey-dovey vibes bouncing around the room to completely scare him away (yet) and he is still curious about the collar.

Castiel is reeled back into Dean's orbit, powerless to his voice, his command.

He stares at the floor though, still red-faced and wishing he was invisible now.

Dean is uncommonly generous to his angel's discomfort, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in so he is leaning against him. This embrace told Castiel it was okay – it told him Dean wasn't mad about his spying. He sags against his hunter with a sigh. Dean chuckles. Sam hesitates - his 'flight' instincts screaming at him - his curiosity still prevailing.

"I'm fine with it, Cas. You don't know a thing about personal space anyway, and that's just you, so… what's the big deal?" he snorted, sending Castiel into a strange place where he feels they have not ventured yet, "I just… I want you to be here with me when you're around. It is kinda weird knowing you're being watched like that, and I don't like the idea of you staying at the sides and just watching us. It's better when you join in anyway, okay?"

Castiel nods quickly, feeling warm all of a sudden.

"I know you can't be here all the time, but when you're here, be here. Why do you sneak around, anyway? If you have free time, why don't'cha spend it with us?" With me, he meant to say.

Castiel doesn't know how to answer that. His habit of watching Dean was a secret to no one anymore. It was something he just did. He'd always done it, even before he'd actually met him. He'd watched the Righteous Baby be born, watched the Righteous Boy grow into the Righteous Man, came down from Heaven sometimes just to see what he was up to, where he was in life and how he fared. Dean was somebody he could just watch forever, creepiness be damned, he was fascinated with every aspect of Dean's life.

Why he didn't reveal himself to Dean was a hard question to answer. Perhaps it was because he enjoyed watching Dean being Dean without interference. He didn't want to disturb Dean in his everyday life. It pleased him to see that he was okay without him, because Castiel always worried about Dean being lonely whilst he was in Heaven. He knew Dean could cope with him not being there, but sometimes in Dean's day, he saw little snippets where his smile faltered when he spotted a couple together, and he felt an ache in his chest. Sometimes Dean looked up at the sky – at the stars at night – and waited, and waited.

It was nice to be missed - to feel necessary. That was why he did it. In the end, it was to satisfy that and only that.

"I said I'd give you a bell, didn't I?"

He was brought back to the present by the hand at his throat, tickling the bell and the skin there, sending shivers down his spine.

Dean's eyes are lowered to it, and Castiel leans a little forward eagerly.

"So now," Dean clears his throat, "If you come by, we'll… we'll be able to hear you," he laughs uneasily – discomfort showing in the red spots on his cheeks – "It's totally a joke-gift. You can take it of if you want-"

"Dean, that is a pet collar. How the hell isn't he choking?" Sam, the voice of logic bursts in, shocking the lovers out of their alone-time. They'd completely forgotten he is still there - and Bobby is also there, even though his back was facing them - he is far more interested in the bacon than their little chick-flick moment. Sam strides forwards to examine the accessory, eyes bugging a little, "It's… it's a cat collar. Are those fish bones?"

"That they are, Sam-I-am, and those be rhinestones too,"

Gabriel calmly appears out of nowhere, reaches forwards and snaps the collar against Castiel's neck, "Genuine leather, but… modified by yours truly. It's stretchy as the Hulk's underpants, Sammo. No need to worry - he doesn't technically need to breathe anyway,"

Unable to think of an adequate response, Sam simply went, "Ugh!" and finally leaves the madhouse to find some more normal people. Gabriel preens at the remaining two, and zaps himself away again. Hopefully for a good long while.

There is silence, until they hear Bobby – the last survivor of the world's most awkward encounter (that was a lie, there were plenty other encounters Dean would rather not talk about) – mutter "Idjits," under his breath and slam the door behind him. Then, there is dead silence.

Until the bell gave a little clink, and Dean finds it pressing into his throat when Castiel's lips land on his. He sighs in relief, grateful that fact that Cas wasn't bothered by the otherwise seedy connotations of wearing a collar, or was at least unaware of it. He loves these lazy days where the biggest worry he has thinking of how he can pay Gabriel back for his meddling without upsetting Castiel - where Sam seeks refuge from his big brother's love-dramas in his Law books, and Bobby lets out long-suffering sighs every time he... well, basically all the time (but he never means it).

These perfect days - he never thought he'd have it this good.

...

Of course, the moment couldn't last - Dean pulled away from Cas with an audible pop and roared as Beyonce's "Put a ring on it" blasted in his head at nightclub volume, everyone else is none-the-wiser to this audio-torture, and they stare at him as he stumbles out of the house clutching his head and cursing Gabriel in Enochian. Castiel meets Bobby's dumbfounded stare, equally nonplussed - but he eventually shrugs, deciding to pretend he hadn't just seen Dean acting crazier than normal. He's learnt from he-can't-remember-who that sometimes it's better to pretend you don't know any better. Sometimes it's funny to pretend nothing strange happened, just to get a rise out of somebody -

Oh, he remembers now who taught him this -

Castiel tilts his head and stares innocuously at Bobby's bemused expression, "'sup?"

AUTHOR'S ADDITIONAL NOTE:

Yeah, this was pretty pointless. I hope it wasn't written to weirdly. EXPERIMENTATION IN WRITING, I should have said.

BTW just so you know, I do love that Beyonce song.