If anyone watches NBC's Community, then I dedicate this to you.
"I don't know why you dragged me here. There is nothing fun about sitting in a bar to drink alcohol. It sounds lonely and quite sad, really."
"Shut up, Cas," Meg Masters hollered behind her shoulder as the three of them walked into the noisy bar. "Sometimes you have a sword shoved far up that ass."
"For once, I agree with Meg," Dean Winchester commented, patting the curmudgeon with whom he somehow became friends. He ignored Meg's glare as the three sat in a booth; Meg across from him and Castiel Novak. "And it's not lonely if you have us. What'll ya have?"
Castiel hesitated. "Why couldn't Sam come?"
"Ooh, let me guess—date night with Jess? Another night watching artsy, pretentious foreign movies and eating an overpriced meal at some stuffy restaurant on the waterside where you just feel like slitting your own throat?" Meg interrupted.
Dean grimaced at Meg's snark, questioning why he let her join him and Cas after Sam backed out. It was supposed to be a guy's Friday night out: two brothers and their killjoy mutual friend. It was already a mystery why Meg chose to be a nurse—and how she got a job at the general hospital—but it was an even bigger question why she hung around Dean, Sam, and Cas. None of them enjoyed her company, and she didn't enjoy theirs. And yet, she was almost a fourth member of their group. "I don't have many friends," she said once when he asked her. It was obvious why.
"Cas, what'll you have?" Dean repeated. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Meg's smirk.
"Umm…what are you having?"
"Beer, probably."
"And Meg? What are you going to have?"
Meg looked taken aback, but Dean couldn't be too sure about that. "Rum and coke."
"I guess I'll take a rum and coke, then."
After flagging down a waiter and placing an order, Dean watched Castiel rock side to side. "Dude, just relax."
"I'm afraid I can't."
Meg stifled a laugh.
"Really Meg?" Dean snapped. She shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm just a little nervous," Castiel stated. "I've…I've never done this before."
"Wait…ever?" Meg asked. "Not even when you were in college? Not when you're bumming around Moose and Squirrel?"
Castiel, still wearing his trenchcoat despite the bar being relatively warm, nodded his head as if in embarrassment.
"I knew you were a square, but this is a new standard."
Dean restrained himself from retorting as the waiter returned with their drinks. When he left, Dean glowered at her. "Meg, shut your goddamn mouth for once."
"Sor-ry. But even you're thinking it."
"Doesn't matter if I'm thinking it. Shit, why are you here anyways? You make it very clear you don't like us—"
"Dean," Castiel mumbled softly, "just let it go."
After taking a swig of her rum and coke, Meg nodded. "Yeah, just let it go. And I've already told you. I don't have many friends."
Tempted to continue, Dean heeded Castiel's words, hoping that the rest of the night would run more smoothly. Castiel talked about a nature documentary he watched the previous night—somehow the tax accountant got a kick out of horticulture, botany, and other biological topics; he had a minor but well-tended garden in the small backyard of his townhouse. Meg told a story about how a patient peed on her—deserved it, Dean thought, but refrained from vocalizing his thoughts. Dean mentioned some recent workplace politics—the mechanic shop was undergoing new management , and the situation was rather interesting.
"Alright," Meg said as she stood up. "I'm gonna take a leak."
"Good to know," Dean acidly replied. He could feel Meg rolling her eyes at him before she headed toward the restrooms.
Dean swirled his beer in its bottle. He briefly looked up to make sure Meg was out of earshot. "That woman is a hurricane," he stated.
Next to him, Dean heard Castiel sigh. "Yeah…" the tax accountant wistfully trailed off.
Dean side-eyed Castiel, a slight, dopey smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling as he gazed upon the leather-jacket clad woman yards away before she slipped behind a door with "WOMEN" written on it.
Shock pulsed through Dean's mind. He knew that look. It was the look Sam gave Jess. It was the look his father had for his mother, and his mother for his father. It was the look Dean once had for someone, but that was a whole different matter.
It didn't make sense. Castiel used to be so adamant about keeping Meg at bay. He used to look at her with serious disgust and rage. The few times Dean ever saw his usually monotone friend truly furious, some of them were from heated arguments and bickering with Meg.
And now here he was, less than a year later, thinking about her…romantically? Castiel never struck Dean as a romantic type. From what he knew about his friend's past, Castiel only dated one girl, and was most likely a virgin. Castiel just didn't seem interested in anyone like that. Dean never expected uptight, unstrung, too-rational-for-emotions Castiel Novak to have this look for anyone, let alone for smart-mouthing, brutally honest, in-it-for-herself Meg Masters.
"Hurricanes are bad, Cas," Dean clarified before taking the last gulp of his beer.
"I know," Castiel quickly responded, alarmed and nervous as if he were a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner time.