This is just something that came to me the other night. It's one chapter for now, nothing too heavy, but I plan on adding to it when I have some spare time. It's rated M because...well, because I can't help myself, and a story with jealous-kinda-in-denial Dean and sexually oblivious Cas? C'mon, they're asking for it to get dirty.

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"Hey Dean…check it out."

Sam was keeping his voice deceptively low, his tone laced in mischievous amusement. Dean frowned and wondered what he was up to, but took the hint to be subtle when he craned his neck around to investigate whatever was holding Sam's attention. At first he didn't know what he was supposed to be looking at.

"We send him for one coffee order and he snags himself a groupie."

Dean's eyes found the intended target as Sam was speaking, the realisation of what he was watching only dawning on him slowly, like waking up from a deep sleep. Cas stood at the counter of the café, his stance way too formal for this place and this time of the morning. The Winchesters had mostly given up on trying to get him to act like a normal human.

He seemed to be engaged in conversation with one of the waitresses; much deeper and lengthier conversation than the simple exchange needed to order three coffees. Dean could only see the back of him, but he would put money on Cas being completely oblivious to the raging signals being thrown his way by the redhead behind the counter.

Dean watched in rapt disbelief as the waitress laid her forearms casually on the formica counter in front of her and clasped her hands together, before leaning forward and letting her breasts press together against her arms. Her already impressive cleavage threatened to overspill her uniform blouse. Dean could tell by the way she shifted that on her side of the counter – beyond his eye's reach but probably in the perfect position for the standing angel to see – she was most likely pushing her ass outwards too. So many women had come onto him the same way; a chick driven to him by the endless stream of sleazy bikers she served all night who happened to be clocking off in 10 minutes, or a bored girl stuck behind the check-in counter at a budget motel he strolled into.

This chick wanted Cas, and she was pulling out all the tricks in the book to let him know it.

Dean almost scoffed when she shifted one arm so her hand rested under her chin, and she began chewing and sucking on the end of her pen. She tilted her head minutely to one side as she listened to whatever Cas was saying, her gaze smouldering, as though the angel was some beacon of raw sexuality and the most interesting person she had ever met.

Dean whipped his head back to Sam when he heard a snort of barely-concealed laughter. His brother was modelling a massive, face-splitting grin, and he shook his head gently in disbelieving amusement.

"What?" Dean hissed. Sam rolled his eyes and forked a piece of pancake.

"Look at your face." That smile was beginning to grate on Dean's patience.

"What about my face?"

"I've never seen you look so…pouty. You're actually scowling." He shoved the forkful of food into his mouth and continued casually with his mouth full. "Dammit, I forgot I don't have coffee yet."

"Excuse me?" Dean scoffed. "I do not pout. Or scowl. Why would I?"

"Oh, Dean." Sam mocked. "That's adorable. Pretending you're not the jealous type."

Dean felt his face light up like a Christmas tree. Sure, now he was scowling.

Despite his best efforts to thwart Sam and pay the angel no more mind, he found himself turning back around to check on the situation. Cas still stood with a straight back, hands hanging limply at his sides and head facing forward; every inch the oblivious robot. It made Dean want to laugh, but the girl giggled suddenly and broke his train of thought.

He found himself attempting to listen to their conversation.

"I'm a coffee person too." She cooed, and it amazed Dean the lengths she was going to to try and appear sexy. Honestly, who tried to make a conversation about coffee sound sexy? "I like mine quite strong…" She bit her lip as her hooded eyes gave Cas a very un-subtle once-over.

"Did you see that!" Dean hissed incredulously, whipping his head back around to Sam and then back to the pair at the counter to watch the scene unfold further. Sam felt his face contort in the effort to subdue a burst of laughter, and Dean didn't even notice.

"I don't drink coffee much, myself." Castiel replied – finally, the bitch was letting him get a word in. Woah… Dean chose to ignore the sudden stab of animosity he had felt, taking him by surprise. Best to leave some things un-investigated…

"My friends have instructed me to bring some. They suggested I get a cup for myself."

"Yeah, kinda thirsty…" Dean muttered, and was completely ignored. The waitress didn't even glance towards their table to see who Cas referred to. Yes, definitely a bitch.

"You like being told what to do?" She asked, her lip curling in a smile. Her head dipped lower and she looked up at Cas through her lashes. "I can work with that."

Ok, Dean thought, this is bordering on sexual harassment.

"She can't say that." Dean said, not even bothering to turn around to Sam this time.

"Who says she can't?" Sam replied. "She's not doing any harm." Even without looking at him, Dean could hear the smirk in his brother's voice, and it made his blood boil. There was nothing to mock here, he was simply concerned for the well-being of an innocent angel. This slut was about to try and defile him, and…

"Did you just call her a slut?" Sam's voice was filled with glee, and his eyes were lit up like a child on Christmas. Dean recoiled at the realisation that he had spoken aloud, and sounded like a bitchy girl in the process.

"Fuck off."

Hmm, interesting response. Nice one Dean.

On turning his attention back to the uncomfortable exchange – which was costing him his coffee, thank you very much – Dean's stomach jolted uncomfortably. The girl had reached out and gently taken the tip of Cas' ever-present tie between her thumb and forefinger. She fingered it idly, sweeping the pad of her thumb over the material in a soft circular motion as she spoke to him, not breaking eye contact.

Dean felt his scalp prickle with unidentifiable discomfort. He suddenly felt too warm, and found himself wanting to escape for some cooler air outside this too-warm, stuffy and shitty café with its shitty food and probably shitty coffee and it's whorish waitresses, who clearly couldn't keep their hands to…

"So, want anything else with that coffee, handsome?" She suddenly released the tie and backed up off the counter, standing upright and smoothing her skirt un-subtly over her backside as she turned away from Cas to finally make their coffee.

"I…erh…no thanks, thank you…coffee will suffice."

Castiel…was stumbling over his words.

Dean suddenly didn't want to touch the coffee, or finish his bacon. His neck was aching from craning it around so much, even after shifting the position of his body for a better angle. He ignored the throb in his spine and kept watching.

"You sure, hon?" She asked as she turned back around with the full pot of coffee and some milk balanced on a tray. "There's a lot of mouth-watering stuff here…."

"No thank you." Castiel replied, and his voice sounded off-key. Dean wanted to flinch.

"Pancakes? Blueberry pie? Me?" She winked at him, and her salacious grin returned. Castiel's foot shifted on the floor, and Dean took this as a sign that he was clearly being traumatised. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take before he would have to interrupt her embarrassing display to save her any further humiliation and to preserve his friend's innocence.

"I think I'll take some blueberry pie." Dean raised his eyebrows, as did the waitress, and it occurred to Dean that she might have taken this as a dismissal of her offer. Given the choice between this tramp and baked goods, Dean certainly knew which one he would opt for…

She planted a neat slice on the tray between them. Castiel lifted the tray carefully and made his way back to the table, after what felt like twenty minutes.

"Have fun there, big boy?" Sam…Dean had completely forgotten about him and his ridiculous ideas. He shot his brother a glare with the ferocity of daggers in his eyes.

"I don't understand that reference." Castiel replied, without looking up from the cups as he distributed them and poured coffee into each one in turn. Dean felt a spark of satisfaction that Sam had been denied an opportunity to embarrass him.

Seemingly sensing this satisfaction, Sam pressed on.

"C'mon Cas, she was all over you. Why don't you go out with her some time? Seems like she would be a whole lot of fun…" Dean didn't miss the stress on certain words, or the self-satisfied look Sam quickly gave him as he spoke with an impish grin.

"I don't doubt she would be fun. But she is not suited to me."

Dean had to hand it to Cas, his poker face was infallible. Not understanding half of the veiled references and innuendos probably helped with that, but he still got that smug feeling when Cas dismissed Sam's teasing comments.

"Not suited to you? She's…well…she's hot, Cas." He smiled again, wiping syrup up with a forkful of pancake.

"I took the initiative and bought this for you." Castiel stated. At first Dean was utterly perplexed at what he was referring to, until the angel lifted the small plate off the tray and sat the neat slice of blueberry pie in front of him.

"…For me?"

"You like pie."

Dean raised his eyebrows, studying the slice, aware that the angel was evaluating his reaction. He glanced sideways at Cas and smiled in thanks, picking up a fork and digging in gratefully. Sam noted with interest that Castiel only seemed to relax and look back to his own coffee when he seemed satisfied that Dean was enjoying his baked gift.

Dean realised that Cas hadn't even bothered to acknowledge Sam's teasing that last time, and it made something satisfying snake through him. Or maybe it was just the pie.

The waitress left her number and her name – Cara – on a napkin beside Castiel's arm as she passed on the way to another table. As they vacated their seats in the booth and made to leave the café, Dean noticed that Cas paid it no mind other than to turn it over, writing-side down, and leave it sitting on the table beside the plate of pie-crumbs. Dean chose to ignore the creeping satisfied feeling he got at witnessing this. He also pushed aside the seething dislike he had developed towards this random woman. He would attribute them to a combination of excellent pie, but crappy coffee and even crappier service.

Yeah, some feelings were just better left unexamined.