A/N: This was actually a requested ficlet on tumblr of a Shassie/Destiel Crossover. I'd never written for Dean and Cas before nor have I done a crossover before but it was actually a lot of fun. :)
Dean looks over Cas as secretively as possible. His eyes drag up up from the curled knuckles, the peeking white cuffs, and the familiar sleeve of the tan long coat. His gaze travels along the dark blue neck tie, the one that Dean himself had fixed just moments before, and then the hunter steals the quickest of glances at Cas's face. He gets a split second, lips pressed closed and surrounded by stubble, eyes looking around for something but brows furrowed in the perpetual state of slight confusion that is Cas.
It's not that he's afraid to look at Cas. Not exactly. It's just that if Cas catches him looking, he'll look back and then looking becomes staring and staring becomes, for lack of a better word, eye sex. The eye sex has never really bothered him before, not entirely, or it might be better to say that he'd gotten used to it. Now that the angel had fallen though, the eye sex seems more intense, like something between the two men has shifted.
A blonde waitress with a sweet looking smile breezes by with a slice of pie for Dean and, of course, a burger for Cas. Years ago, Dean would have given the girl a wink and a charming grin but instead his smile is slanted and polite. Cas thanks her and there's a quiet excitement to him as he looks at the huge hamburger on his plate.
The diner is packed. There's an old man sitting in the corner, several pairs of couples/best friends, and even a group of kids at the big corner table with open textbooks and half eaten plates everywhere. Still, it's sort of domestic of Dean and Cas to be sitting here, enjoying a meal together. It's a shame Sam chose not to come to Santa Barbara with them. He said he'd rather stay by the home front, choosing not to wander the coast in search for the famed and acclaimed 'psychic' detective. There was something about Sam's decision that made Dean wonder though, something in the way he smirked at him and sent him and Cas on their way. Dean can't fully place it but his brother is up to something, he knows that much.
Dean is about to say something to Cas regarding the way he eats his burger. He's about to tell him that he sounds like he's having sex which probably would have made for a confused Cas and some interesting and awkward conversation but it's all stopped short as two men came into the diner.
"C'mon Lassie! I swear to you that they have the best milkshake in all of Santa Barbara, swear!" a loud voice announces their arrival along with the charming ring of the door's bell.
Dean automatically looks at the pair and Cas slowly turns to look over his shoulder. Dean doesn't catch this though as he's still concerned with the loud brunette making his way across the room, a sort of lively jitter to his step. In an almost comical fashion, a straight faced and tight laced suit follows behind him and grabs him by the arm forcefully to stop him.
"I am not having lunch with you, Spencer," the suit says, holding the vibrant younger man hostage by the bicep, "Now just tell me where this 'vibe' of yours says to go next so we can get this over with."
Unknown to Dean, the two men were paired on a case together by non other than the chief of the Santa Barbara police department. It involved a singular murder with several suspects of which the happy brunette is beginning to think wasn't a single murderer but rather a group effort. Dean also doesn't know that the boisterous younger man is filling in as the older's temporary partner, since a certain blonde detective felt it better she transfer after a bad break up. He also is completely unaware that the loud mouth's usual buddy of choice is sick as a dog with the flu.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Spencer, as the older man had called him, clucks his tongue, "You want me to put out, you gotta buy me lunch first."
There's a seductiveness to his face and both the suit and Dean turn a little pink at it. It's not that Dean has a problem with gays or anything He doesn't. It's just that it makes him feel a little awkward Hadn't always been that way though, not since he met-
"Dean, why are we staring at these men?" Cas asks, blatantly staring at the pair.
It's too late for Dean to whip the oblivious ex-angel back around though as the two men have taken notice of Cas's staring there.
"Can I help you blue eyes?" the suit growls a little, still holding to Spencer's bicep with ferocity.
Cas looks back to Dean, incredulous and confused as to whether or not to be insulted.
Something shifts in the brunette though. Something in the way he's holding his expression. It's just a little change, lowered lids and a little more of a smirk. This expression is aimed at the back of Cas's head though. It makes Dean suddenly feel very protective and he's not sure why and he's very glad that Cas had the sense to face him again.
"Dean, is 'blue eyes' meant to be an insult?" he asks quietly.
"Uh- maybe?" Dean asks, still trying to overhear the angry whispers of the suited man and the laughing tone of the buffoon.
"But, my eyes are blue, Dean," Cas says, "I don't see how that is insulting."
"Don't worry about it, Cas, just finish up your burger."
"Is the shorter man in trouble?" Cas says, not so sneakily peaking over his shoulder, "The other one is holding his arm really right. Should we intervene?"
"What? No!" Dean says quickly.
"It's not completely full!" the loud brunette exclaims suddenly before sliding up closer to Dean and Cas's booth, "It look like these two gentlemen have room to spare!"
"Woah there," Dean says, holding up a hand, "This booth's taken."
The alleged Spencer just starts sitting down next to Dean, even forcing him to scoot over a bit. He smiles as he's doing it which bewilders the Winchester. Just who does this guy think he is?
"The name's Shawn," Shawn says as he's getting comfortable, "Shawn Spencer, consultant to the SBPD and psychic. This is my colleague Head Detective Carlton Lassiter and we'll need to commandeer your extra space today for some very serious police business."
"Did you just say your name is Shawn Spencer?" Dean asks.
Shawn Spencer is the name of the psychic detective they were sent here to look for. Granted, Dean figured they'd just go down to the man's office and ask to see him, sweet talk him a bit and coax him into an alliance. There's strong speculation of demon being let loose in the area sometime within the month but neither of the Winchester know for sure and Cas is just as clueless. Regardless, having an psychic informant on the west coast, especially one with a track record like Shawn's, would be a big help.
Dean isn't so sure about it now that he meets the psychic close up though, there's something not right about him…something not sinister or malicious….but something dishonest that's for sure.
"You've heard of me?" the showboat then chortles, "Not that that's surprising."
Dean widens his eyes in disbelief.
"You've got to be kidding me," he mumbles under his breath.
"Did I say something wrong?" Shawn asks.
"When don't you?" Lassiter mutters.
"No, you didn't," Cas gives a quick glance to Dean, questioning, but returns to Shawn, "It's we've come here to find you."
Shawn looks up at his coworker with a huge grin; "See, Lassie? I knew we needed to eat at this restaurant at this exact moment. Now why don't you sit down next to mister 'blue eyes' here and make nice?"
'Lassie' rolls his eyes but Cas scoots over to make room and looks up expectantly at the detective who hesitates but then grumbles and sits down anyway.
There's an awkward silence around the four men. Now Dean has seen a lot of things, a lot of weird things but this probably takes the cake. What kind of person just up and decides to have a seat with a couple of strangers? Dean's met a few psychics in his lifetime and none of them were nearly this… eccentric. Dean glances to the cop and takes stock of how infuriated he is and frankly, he'd be a little irritated himself if he had that guy tagging along with him. Cas is just Cas as always, not really seeing anything wrong with the situation because he doesn't know any better. The man sitting next to Dean, this Shawn Spencer, seems fidgety and waiting before turning toward Dean.
"Well?" he asks, impatiently.
"Well, what?" Dean asks, glancing to the detective as if he might be of some help.
"I introduced myself and my partner-"
"We are not partners" Lassiter asserts quickly.
"Fine, I introduced myself and my- detective," he says it quickly but it in a way that it makes anybody who knows any better blush a little, "but you've yet to introduce yourself and your, rather attractive looking, friend there."
Shock. That seems to be Dean's basic response to Shawn Spencer. The man just blatantly hit on Cas, innocent baby in a trench coat Cas who still probably doesn't fully understand the pizza man for Christ's sake! And that grin the psychic is wearing is just filthy, sexy and calculated and filthy Cas looks very serious as he answers though, completely unaware that he's been hit on at all.
"My name is Castiel," he answers and in the back of Dean's mind he hears the other half of that familiar introduction 'I am an angel of the Lord.', "And this is my-" he seems at a loss for a title, "-Dean."
The detective suddenly looks incredibly uncomfortable and gets perpetually redder in the face. He even backs a little away from Cas and Dean pegs him for one of those super stiffs, the kind that starts falling over themselves and blushing like a schoolgirl when gays are involved. Dean would know though, since he's kind of one those himself.
"What he means to say, is partner, Dean," Dean clears up quickly with an awkward cough as he reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out his badge, flashing it quickly, "we're FBI."
Shawn's eyes get excited while Lassiter returns back to his state of exasperation. A lot of cops didn't like agents very much but then Dean wouldn't like it very much either if some jerk in a tie came in and usurped his authority and jurisdiction either.
"So what's the FBI want with me?" Shawn asks, half thrilled and half cautious, "They finally come to their senses and realize that my skills should be applied on a national scale?"
Detective Lassiter scoffs but he stills sticks around. Dean wonders why, other than the something he'd overheard about a 'vibe' or whatever. The cop can easily excuse himself and just wait outside. Instead though, he sits there almost as if he's interested in what's happening though he's clearly trying to look like he's not.
"Not exactly," Cas says, "We have reason to believe-"
"What my partner is trying to say is that we want to be in contact with you," Dean interrupts quickly.
Cas's eyes ask him what he's doing, those dark blues sending out the question quickly from under the shadow of his furrowed brow and Dean's greens reply just as fast.
Dean, what are you-
I don't trust him, Cas.
Why not? He seems-
I just don't. We'll talk about it later.
Okay, Dean.
"More importantly, we'd like you to be in contact with us," Dean says, pulling a card from inside of his suit jacket, the two other men completely unaware of the second long eye conversation he'd just had with Cas.
Shawn takes it and examines it. It's a plain manila colored business card with nothing on it but a phone number. It felt very secret agenty but it perplexed Shawn. Equally, it made Lassiter question the situation at hand as well and for a moment he broke his facade of irritated disinterest.
"Anything strange happens, anything odd at all," Dean says, his voice relaxing into that calm authority that he so often speaks with, "you call us, got it?"
"Not much happens to me that isn't 'odd'" Shawn points out, "How will I know it's worth calling you for?"
"Oh, you'll know," Dean sort of winks with his nod, "Now, if you two don't mind, we've got other things to do."
Shawn the psychic and Detective Lassiter move out of the way and allow Dean and Cas to get up. The four men stand for a second and Dean makes with the pleasantries of handshakes just to reinforce his FBI cover. They start to leave and Dean feels a little more relaxed now that he's getting away from the eccentric man and his grumpy sidekick.
"Hey, hold on a second," Shawn calls.
The two men turn around, not even a full two steps away from where they were a moment ago.
"Uh, Castiel, was it?" Shawn asks.
The ex angel nods and Dean feels like he's been kicked in the gut.
"You feel like, maybe, getting a drink later?" Shawn asks, his grin flirtatious.
"A drink?" Cas asks, never really being offered a drink before in this manner. Dean still hasn't quite explained to Cas the in's and out's of dating which is strange because Dean had taught Sam those things as soon as possible (or tried to anyway, Sam tended to get too attached to be a Winchester Casanova). But then, Sam and Cas aren't exactly the same kind of relationship to Dean and maybe Dean doesn't want Cas to know how dating works.
"Yeah, you know, you, me, and a few beers," Shawn says, "Call me forward but you're kind of my type."
"Your type of what?" Dean asks, a bite to his voice that he can't quite hold back. He even stands a little in front of Cas but manages to resist the urge to put am arm around him in defense.
"Oh, you know, blue eyes, dark hair, kind of a grumpy face," Shawn elaborates, "that's very much my type nowadays."
Detective Lassiter then wordlessly but very angrily excuses himself, pushing past Dean and Castiel on his way out of the diner. Dean can't help but think there's something going on here but the primary concern is the fact that this lively little weirdo is hitting on Cas, Dean's partner his friend, his Cas.
"He's taken," Dean asserts very quickly but Shawn's gaze is more centered on the cop still storming down the street.
"Yeah, I know," he replies quickly, eyes still distracted.
He starts to push past the two men but turns around for a second to say some last minute things as he starts walking backwards.
"You want me to keep in contact? Dea.," Shawn says, "I owe you oen after that. Not that you're aren't a good looking dude, Casto-"
"Castiel," the ex angel corrects.
"-and, Dean, equally attractive there. You got a jawline that could cut glass my friend-"
"Uh- thank you?"
"-but I've got to chase down one seriously upset and closeted cop right now!"
He bolts out the door and down the street, his lasting impression just a blur of clothes, jeans and a vibrant t-shirt through a diner window. Dean still isn't sure what to make of everything that's happened. He feels like he's just gotten his world rocked, like he's going to wake up in his bed with extreme sex hair and a profound sense of confusion. He and Cas look at each other and Dean figures it must be nice for Cas not to be the only one lost in the room.
"Dean?"
Dean does that odd head nod and lip twitch he sometimes makes as his body's way of saying 'what'?
"What did you mean I'm 'taken', Dean?"
Dean goes so red in the face that his freckles are rendered invisible His mouth falls agape, his mind looking for an answer but comes up with none. Instead, he just starts leaving the diner, Cas trailing behind.
"Dean, you still haven't answered my question. Dean? Dean, what does 'taken' mean? Dean, who's taken me? Dean, Should I be concerned? Dean?"