Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural, though I wish Dean, Castiel and Sam would let me be their madam in my pretty boy brothel. *shiver* please, oh please baby jesus and teenage toturo.
A/N: First Destiel fanfiction and also first slashy thing I've written. Do be kind. Promp was gifted to me by Pixie_a_la_mode. Happy Valentine's Day, beta!
Dean blasted Beast of Burden while he killed a group of zombies in the video game Charlie had recommended to him before she'd gotten lost in Oz with Dorothy. The Stones and the Walking Dead were the only remedy to his mood after his most recent spat with Sam—that and the row of chilled cold ones, now empty, sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
The flutter of wings next to him announced the arrival of his own personal Beast of Burden. "Cas," he rumbled. "I'm trying to save Clementine from an undead hoard. Not in the mood for company right now."
The elder Winchester felt rather than saw his heavenly guardian's crystal blue gaze on him. He hated to be rude to his angel, but giving him eye contact would only encourage whatever problem or nonsense he was bringing and Dean wasn't in the mood. Rather than give his friend further greeting he continued to pound away on the Xbox controller.
"I'm sorry to bother you Dean, but I have a few questions. Do you know what day it is tomorrow?" Castiel inquired in his gravely voice.
Dean spared a quick glance at his friend's bemused expression before returning to his game. He shot an incoming zombie right before it ate him for dinner. "Cas, I'm an alcoholic remember? I never know what day it is. That's what Sam's good for—knowing what day it is and how to encrypt a file and the Pythagorean theorem and all that bull shit. Why don't you go ask him?"
"I would rather ask you," the angel replied. "The reason being I'm somewhat embarrassed. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day."
"And?" Dean grunted moodily.
"I have a few questions," Castiel admitted. "I found these candies on a bench as I was watching children play in the park—
"Why were you watching kids play in the park?" Dean inquired, leaning sideways to gain access to a zombie that was hiding behind a dumpster and accidently brushing Castiel's shoulder. He pulled away quickly.
"I like to be reminded of the pleasant parts of the human experience. It gives me reason to keep fighting."
"Yeah, well, part of the human experience is shielding children from pedophiles, Cas, and watching kids play in the park is pretty creepy."
"I see." Castiel sounded embarrassed. "I'll make a note of that. Anyway, I found these."
Dean paused the game and turned to look at the bag of candy hearts the Angel was holding up. Only they weren't hearts. The blonde froze as he inspected penis shaped candies with phrases like "text me" and "you're hot" and "I'm gay for you." There were LGBT candies now? For whatever reason—perhaps because he was vividly recalling the hot Russian Olympian chick he'd been with that one time that turned out not to be a chick—he felt his face grow hot and he shoved the candies back at Castiel a little too forcefully.
"There's nothing you need to know about Valentine's Day other than it's a dumb day for people who are pathetic and can't get a date to feel worse about themselves. Now will you leave me be, Cas?"
The angel frowned, his confusion compounded. He didn't know what he'd done to make his friend angry, but he thought he might know someone who could help him figure it out.
The alpha Cupid, Eros, was a short gentleman of what humans considered finery. He stood a few heads below Castiel—or so the angel could see from where he watched the alpha playing the fiddle on a tree stump. He was dressed simply in slacks and a button-up—unknowing passerby's in this particular peach orchard would be unsuspecting that the angel vessel was shooting them with Valentine's arrows and making them fall in love.
"Why, Castiel," he said in his smooth southern lilt as the Angel of Thursday strode forward to greet him. "It's been a few centuries, hasn't it? Fancy you found me here in Georgia. I like being here on this special day. Gone with the Wind took place in Georgia, did you know that?"
"I do not understand that reference," Castiel replied. "But I am in need of your assistance."
The gentleman cupid carefully set aside his fiddle and bow and folded his hands in front of him. "What can I do for you today?"
Castiel paused. He wondered how to phrase what he wanted. "I have been giving a lot of thought to something, Eros—mulling over the notion of romantic love…"
The Cupid scoffed. "If you're hear to ask me whether it is merely a combination of endorphins and oxytocin, you've come to the wrong place."
Castiel shook his head. "No, what I am wondering is… can it truly make someone happy? Even if you know that those you love are often doomed to die?"
The Cupid tapped his chin thoughtfully and smiled. "I know what this is. It has something to do with the elder Winchester?"
Castiel ran his hands through his messy mop of dark hair. "How did you know?"
"I'm Eros," the Cupid replied, as though this explained everything.
"I want you to shoot an arrow at him," Castiel explained. "But only for his true love. The one who can make him happy and will always be at his side, who will protect him and aid him in his quests. He and his brother are fighting again and…" the angel's shoulders deflated as he thought about Dean. "Well, I just want him to be happy. He deserves that. Both of them do."
Eros watched Castiel with interest. "Why only the elder brother, then? Why not request my arrow for Sam?"
"At this moment in time, I believe Dean has more need of it."
Eros chuckled and smiled deviously. "Okay, we'll go with that. Very well, Castiel. One arrow for Dean Winchester you shall have. A true love arrow—its mark will only lead him to the one he is destined for."
Castiel sighed and looked up at the clearest of Georgian skies, feeling sad for some reason. He couldn't help but wonder how much need Dean would have of him if he finally found the right woman. Humanity was an odd thing. But he couldn't bear to see the handsome hunter suffer any longer. "And what do request in return for this favor, Eros?"
"Oh," Eros sighed. "Nothing, Castiel. Perhaps all things paranormal would have less to fear if Dean Winchester found happiness. I do this for the greater good."
Dean barreled down the highway at breakneck speed, the smell of the Impala's tires burning in his nostrils. He really hated Valentine's Day. Broads just wanted true love on days like this and were less susceptible to coming to his bed. He was on a beer run but this was one of those days. He couldn't bear to get through it without his other vice, especially since Sam wasn't speaking to him and had gone off alone on a hunt.
He arrived at the quickie-mart and slouched inside to obtain his chosen nectar. While shuffling through the aisles, he picked up a copy of busty Asian beauties, a pie and a bag of Cheetos in addition to his case of beer before placing his items on the checkout counter.
The clerk eyed him with interest as he rang him up. He looked like something out of a Rascall Flats cover band and it made the blonde hunter uncomfortable for some reason. "Take a picture," he growled.
"Why, I'd love to," the clerk purred elegantly in a southern accent. "Something as pretty as you should be frozen in time."
Dean rolled his eyes. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Casanova. Not my type."
The cashier chuckled and the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood up. "Perhaps. Can I interest you in a complimentary rose in honor of the great Feast of the Lupercalia?" He produced a blood red rose seemingly out of nowhere and held it out to Dean.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," the Winchester grunted. He snatched the bloom from the cashier and high tailed it out of there.
Castiel returned to the bunker late on Valentine's Day. He'd spent several hours moping on the peaks of the great pyramids, wondering if he'd done the right thing by Dean. Since rescuing him from Hell, the Hunter had changed his eternity—he couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking his place as his protector. Ultimately, that was what Dean needed. He knew nothing other than protecting his brother, and the one who finally had his heart would be the one who could keep him safest.
It was almost midnight when the angel finally did walk into the bunker's kitchen. He wanted to see if he could taste a peanut butter and jelly sandwich properly again, even though it was hopeless. He often missed being a human—it made him realize why the angels envied them so much.
Dean walked in shortly after his arrival just as he was about to take his first bite. His green eyes softened as Castiel looked up at him and he gave the angel a lopsided grin. "Cas," he said. "You're finally here."
"What's that you're holding behind your back, Dean?"
Dean looked oddly flushed and his eyes brightened. "Uh… geez. Dammit, Cas. I don't know what's come over me. I just missed you, man. Well, I always miss you when you're not around. Today it just felt like… I really meant it."
"Meant what?" Castiel raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.
Dean bounced boyishly on the balls of his feet and his other hand disappeared behind his back. It was odd. The angel had barely ever seen his friend act this way before.
Did Eros…?
"Just that you mean a lot to me and I like havin' you around," the hunter replied, his grin broadening.
"Dean, I know this is a dumb question, but have you been drinking?"
"No more than usual." Dean strode forward and held out the red rose he'd gotten at the quicky-mart with both hands. "Here you go, buddy. Happy Valentine's Day."
Dumbstruck, Castiel slowly took the rose out of Dean's hands and stood up. He cocked his head and leaned towards the sandy-haired blonde, trying to look at him as though he'd never seen him before. "Did you by any chance run into a clean-cut southern man today?"
Dean shrugged. "Sounds like the fruit-loop who rang me up at the quickie-mart."
Castiel's shoulders sagged. Of course. Who protected Dean better than his guardian angel? "Dean… I… do you remember what your mother told you about how angels were watching over you?"
A light shade of pink was dusting the hunter's cheeks. It made him look even prettier than usual, even as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah."
"I always will," Castiel rumbled. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Dean's. "Happy Valentine's Day, Dean."