Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
Nearly two weeks passed since Sam found out about Dean and Cas. Things were almost generally accepted and back to normal. They'd gone on just like they'd done before. Team Free Will was almost unaffected by the love shared between two of its members. They'd participated in what they thought was a lead on Crowley in the Penn State area, but nothing came of the case.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
"Where are we going?" Castiel asked from the back seat.
"We're in Philadelphia. There's this pub that we like to go to whenever we're here." Dean answered. "We're gonna go make some money." He added, winking in the rearview mirror.
"How does one go into a pub and make money?"
Dean and Sam exchanged glances and then laughed.
"We should have done this ages ago." Sam said, excited about the night to come.
"Sammy and I both have our tricks. I'm pretty good at darts, and he can hustle pool like a fool. We take bets, see?" Dean started to explain. "Now that we have you, our marker is gonna go up."
"What can I do?" Cas asked, not sure at all where his human was going with this.
"All you gotta do is go in, and be Cas the Bass."
"Why am I Cas the-"
"Cause you can drink like a fish." Dean clarified before Cas could finish his question.
"I don't know what part of that statement to correct. Besides, how is drinking going to help? Don't drinks come with a price tag?"
"Take bets. You're gonna go in, find some guys that think you can't hold your liquor and then bet them that you'll be able to drink more than they will. Winner takes all." Dean continued, grinning broadly at his wonderful idea.
"That hardly seems fair. I can still drink a considerable amount more than a human before I even become warm inside." Cas said, morals weighing into the equation. He remembered the time that he drank an entire liquor store. If Dean hadn't told him that everything inside was insured, he would have felt horrible for the Korean couple that owned the place.
"Yea, babe. But they don't know that."
"So I'm going to scam people."
"Scam is such a strong word. You're just plain better at what you do."
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
"Bishop, you do not want to fight with me. You're so intoxicated that you can barely stand. How are you going to explain to your parishioners if you attend your sermon tomorrow hung over and injured?" Cas asked the man sitting across from him. He'd done what Dean said and started challenging people to attempt out-drinking him. The Bishop was his third challenger, an Irish man clearly about as young as Cas's vessel would be today.
"You make a good argument." The man slurred. He wasn't even supposed to be drinking in the first place. His church highly frowned upon it.
"Hadn't you better go home and sleep this off?" The man in the trench coat asked.
The bishop nodded. At first, he thought that he was possibly being tricked. The man across from him didn't look any different from any other man. He'd watched two other men be out-drank and figured that this guy couldn't possibly take in enough alcohol to out-drink a third man. But he seemed unharmed by his excessive drinking. Now, after he'd already become angry, this same man he was losing his money to was calming him down out of a fight.
"Here, call yourself a cab and get some sleep." Cas offered, stuffing a handful of bills into the bishop's coat pocket.
"Thanks. You're an angel." He mumbled.
"No, I'm just a man." Cas replied, looking around suspiciously, before the man stumbled out the door and the angel waited for his next challenger. He took a moment to scope out the room. Dean looked like he was having a good time, talking to a blond woman that he'd apparently been familiar with. Sam was standing at his full height, a monster of a man, using his pool stick to stretch his shoulder blades. It was amazing that he managed to keep energy in his massive form, being that he ate a lot of salad, and not enough protein.
Sam made his way over shortly afterward to check on his friend.
"How ya doing, Cas?"
"Well, I'm going to Hell, that's for sure. I just lied to a holy man, and aided him in becoming intoxicated." Castiel replied, eyeing Sam for any legitimate response.
"Come on. Lighten up. Holy men are the funnest to lie to. I can't think of a better way to start the day. Wake up, have a cup of coffee, lie to a holy man."
"Maybe I'm just old-fashioned," Cas started, watching Sam air-drum to the song that was on the radio.
"You've been…thunderstruck." Sam sang. ACDC, Cas thought Dean called it before. "Thunderstru-UCK!" He yelled, only inches away from his angelic friend, breaking his concentration.
"Sam, please." Cas jolted away from the sudden loudness.
"Hey, Moose! Come play me." An older man yelled from one of the pool tables.
"Gotta go, that's me." Sam said, patting Cas on the shoulder as he left to take the challenge.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
"Dean?" A familiar voice called.
The older Winchester brother's eyes followed the sound, noting a waitress approaching him. He'd met her before when he and Sam stopped by on their travels. She was the typical image of pretty, blond, thin, provocatively dressed. She came and sat across from him, patting his shoulder affectionately.
"Hey! Melanie." He remembered, tipping his beer toward her before taking a sip.
"How have you been? It's been forever. How's your brother?"
"Sammy? He's right over there." Dean pointed. It was good to see a familiar face. It was good to see that this woman was still above ground. She was a tough broad considering what she'd seen and been through only 8 years ago.
The two of them chatted idly, before Melanie asked:
"So, are you seeing anyone?"
Dean smirked to himself for a split second and turned his gaze to Cas without realizing that he was doing it. Melanie followed his gaze to where the coated man sat, now drinking shot after shot with a tattooed, leather vested man that he appeared to be having a good time with. Melanie noticed how strikingly blue the smaller man's eyes were when his gaze met Dean's. He smiled and did the thumbs up sign, winking once. The waitress looked back at Dean, sitting in front of her smiling like a school girl with a crush. The biker asked this well-dressed man how the hell he was able to drink so much, to which a very deep voice replied, "My heritage is Russian, Irish, and Polish. Drinking is in my blood. Hell, drinking probably IS my blood."
"Really?" She asked.
"Huh?" Dean brought his focus back to their conversation. He didn't realize at all that he'd just told on himself.
"You're with him?" She asked, thumbing in the blue eyed man's direction.
Dean paused for a moment. At this point, he had no problem with people he was close to knowing that he and Castiel were together. He wasn't flamboyant about their relationship, not by a long shot, but he didn't hide their love either, when somebody noticed, or when a woman would flirt with him.
He nodded once, taking another drink.
"Really?" She asked again.
"We do share a…uh…profound bond." He replied, smirking to himself at his own mockery of Cas's definition of the two of them.
"I would have never guessed."
"Why?" Dean replied. Everyone had their reason why it was hard to believe. Honestly, the only people that weren't too terribly surprised when it came down to brass tax was Bobby and Sam.
"You always just seemed to like girls. What's it like?"
"What's what like?" Dean was kind of drunk, so he wasn't stringing on very well.
"Being with another man?"
"It's like…being with my best friend. Pretty cool."
"Even…intimacy?"
"Well, look at him." Dean joked, pointing in Cas's direction again. "Of course. He gets me, totally. No specific times of the month, no hormonal crap. He's…pretty cool. Great ass, by the way. You ever get oral while watching an action flick?" Dean said again, having a hard time making real sense.
"Dean, I'm happy for you. I really am. It's good to see you smile."
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
The night of course had to have a kink in it. That kink came at almost 1:00am, when Dean was heading back to the dart board with a new glass, almost overflowing with beer. He stopped and reached the rim up to his mouth and took a drink before gagging on the mouthful as nearly the entire cup sloshed into his face and down the front of his shirt. What the hell, he was thinking to himself, stepping back a pace before shaking his head and assessing why the hell all of his beer just spilled. In front of him was an angry looking man, also drunk. He was saying something.
"What the fuck, ass?" The guy said, "Watch where you're putting your feet."
What's he talking about? I wasn't even moving. AHA. That's why my beer is all over me and not in my mouth. His ass wasn't watching where he was going, bumped into me, spilled my beer, and now it's somehow my fault? What a dick.
"You spilled my beer." Dean started, ¾ empty cup still in his hand, cold refreshing liquid now plastering his shirt to his torso.
"Bullshit." The other guy started. Dean looked at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. They guy looked like an asshole. He was about Dean's same size, but had some sort of greasy stuff in his spiked black hair, a v-neck looking shirt on, and some sort of pencil thin douchebag mustache. He was a white man, but something about his speech was weird.
Dean didn't remember what he said to make the other guy angry, but he said something and felt a pressure in the center of his chest that sent him back a couple of steps. The guy must have pushed him, but instead of falling on the floor, he bumped into something solid that caught him in strong arms. He craned his neck upward to see Sam, who helped steady him to a standing position before starting up with the guy.
"Try that shit with me." Sam said to him, less drunk than Dean and much bigger in stature.
"What? You his boyfriend or something?" The douchebag mustache man asked, laughing with his friends behind him.
Sam went to step forward and throw a punch but he felt a hand on his shoulder, and saw Cas there, stepping in front of both he and Dean to face the man they were fighting with.
"As a matter of fact, he isn't." The angel started, dramatically taking a shot of whatever brown liquor he was drinking before sitting his tumbler down on an empty table. "I'm his boyfriend."
Dean stood there while the men behind continued to laugh, hearing one of them say 'come on Mike'. Cas and the Mike in question stood making eye contact for a moment. The older Winchester brought his palm to his face in embarrassment, while Sam looked on, excited and wanting to see what happened next.
"Uh huh. Got my attention. You gonna take his ass-beating for him?" Mike asked, stepping forward to where he and Cas were only about two feet apart.
"That's the idea. I take everything else in the ass for him. A beating should be nothing." The angel replied, same serious, alert expression on his face as usual.
"Cas, nah. Come on, let's go." Dean started.
"No, give him Hell, Cas." Sam contradicted, patting his friend on the shoulder roughly. Over the years, Sam and Dean almost switched places in their aggressions. Dean would walk away from a fight if some guy was messing with him, and tended to save actual fights for when somebody caused trouble for a person he cared about. Sam was actually the one that taught Castiel to defend himself. He was similar to Dean in his reasons to fight, and seeing Cas jump in for Dean was inspiring.
Dean reached forward to take his angel's arm and pull him back again, only to have Mike's hand extend to shove him back into Sam again.
Cas's eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and he bridged the gap between himself and Mike, almost growling, "Don't touch him."
"GET UP-"
What the Hell is that sound? Oh, that would be the stereo. Dean did say this place had good music.
"Everybody gonna move their feet"
Mike's friends kept saying things in the background, but it all mottled together. Something about going outside, to which Mike was agreeing, telling the smaller man to go outside with him.
"Get down-"
"I agree. Let's go outside, Mike." The angel offered gruffly, saying the word Mike as if it were a swear.
Slowly, he slid off his coat, bunched it up and handed it to Sam, without breaking eye contact with Mike.
"Sam, you and Dean go wait in the car. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Everybody gonna leave their seat."
"What? Why?" Dean stammered, now confused at the situation.
"Because, I'm going to go outside for a moment…and I'm going to commit a felony."
"You gotta lose your mind in Detroit Rock City."
"YESSS." Sam said, leading Dean out of the bar, watching his friend follow Mike out the back door. He heard Mike tell Cas that he just signed his Death Certificate, to which Sam laughed at in a loud and obnoxious manner.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
"Sammy. He's been gone a while." Dean said from the passenger seat of the car, while Sam sat in the back. His voice held a little bit of panic in it.
"It's only been five minutes. See? There he is." Sam pointed.
Cas was walking briskly around the corner of the building, approaching the car. His blazer sleeves were rolled up, and the white shirt sleeves underneath were bunched, pressing the material up to his elbows. He looked calm wiping something from his hands onto his pant legs and fishing the Impala's keys out of his pocket before getting into the driver's seat of the car and starting the engine, peeling out of the parking lot.
(**Note: Angels may be able to consume copious quantities of alcohol and drive a car afterward without impaired judgment, but you're no angel, readers. So please don't drink and drive. That is all.)
"Cas, you okay?" Sam asked, watching the man driving.
"I'm fine, Sam." He smirked, picking a tooth fragment out of the knuckle of his right hand, flicking it out the window.
"Did he hurt you?" Dean asked, placing a concerned hand on the angel's thigh that Sam couldn't see from where he sat.
"No, Dean. He was drunk and uncoordinated. He…took a beating. Luckily he was seeing two of me, because he kept swinging for the wrong me."
"You didn't kill him, though, right? I mean, we aren't gonna have to run to Mexico?" Sam asked, laughing.
"Of course not. He's alive, but he isn't going to feel very pleasant at all in the morning."
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
The two Winchesters stumbled into the motel room, which happened to be called the Gomorrah Motel. Cas found this hilarious, smirking softly and noting the sweet irony of it. It was classic. "The humor in this situation is…amusing."
Sam staggered over to his bed, which he curled up in as soon as he took off his pants and boots, flipping himself up in the covers like a burrito before closing his eyes. Sam had a good night, and these were the types that led him to a great sleep, being with Dean and seeing his happiness. As his head sunk into the softness of his pillow, he could hear a stereo on in the parking lot. It must have been from somebody's car that they left running while they brought their bags into the room beside the Winchesters'. It was a self-service motel and they didn't have bellhops for anything.
"Don't bother and lock your door.
He's out there hollering 'darlin, don't you love me no more?'
You always, let him in before now didn't you?"
Hm, I like this song, Sam thought to himself, settling deeper into a restful lay-down and trying to focus on it through the rustling sound across from him. Dean must be getting himself into bed. That must just be the blankets moving as he got under them. His back was to Dean's bed, so he couldn't see.
"He's just singing that same old song that he always sang before.
He's the last of the hardcore troubadours."
Usually it didn't take Dean this long to stop moving around and go to sleep. There came the sound of clothes on floors. Sam heard his brother laugh quietly, a gruff laugh before a moist popping noise replaced it, the sound of lips on lips. Followed by the sounds of hands on flesh. Then soft moans…
"Girl, better figure out which is which,
Where for art thou Romeo you son of a bitch?
You'd just as soon fight as switch, now wouldn't you?"
"Guys, stop! I'm still awake!" Sam groaned, realizing what was happening in Dean's bed across the room, and damn glad that he decided to sleep facing the wall.
"Shhhh, Cas. I think Sam's still awake." Dean whispered, still very drunk and trying to hold back laughter.
"I told you he was still awake. This was a bad idea." Cas whispered back.
"Go to sleep, Sammy, It's not what it sounds like." Dean assured, doing something that earned a squeak from the man that was probably under him, if Sam knew his brother.
"He's come to make love on your satin sheets,
And wake up on your living room floor.
He's the last of the hardcore troubadours…"
"Bullshit, Dean. The radio just said something about lovemaking on satin sheets."
"So?" Came a slurred reply.
"These friggin sheets are satin!" Sam sighed, annoyed.
"Dammit, Cas. Quit with your angel-mojo on the radio."
"You know that I can't help it. When angels have intense feelings of- mmmmm Deannnn. I can't think when you- uhhhmmm me gusta." The angel broke off his words with a hiss.
"Stahhhhp." Sam groaned again, putting his pillow over his head.
"He's the last of the all night, do right
Stand outside your window til daylight,
He's the last of the hardcore troubadours.
Baby, what you waiting for?"
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
SONG CREDITS:
Thunderstruck- ACDC
Detroit Rock City- KISS
Hardcore Troubadours- Steve Earle