Dean's knuckles rapped dully on the thick metal bulk head. When the Impala had been built, there had only been a communal room for the crew berths, shared by everyone, but Dean got fucking fed up walking in on Benny having sex, Charlie having sex, Jo having sex, and he didn't even fucking know what Bobby was doing that one time and he didn't want to know.
(And, he had to admit, being interrupted mid-coitus during his own escapades has been really fricken annoying too.)
So now the one large chamber was subdivided into nearly a dozen tiny rooms, enough to house the crew and a few to spare for passengers.
"Cas, you in there?" Dean called loudly enough to be heard through the thick metal. Try as he might he hadn't been able to get the added walls thick enough to suppress sound, but hearing everyone's misadventures was less disgusting than walking in on them.
There was no answer.
Cas had to be in there. Weird ass dude had come aboard, declined Dean's offer of a tour and insisted on being taken directly to his quarters. He hadn't emerged since. It had been a week. Whatever the fuck type of non-human Cas was, he apparently didn't need to eat. Or shit.
Dean pounded on the door. "Look buddy, don't know if the ship's comm unit in there is busted or some shit but this is it, your last, last, last call for Trinity. You wanted to planet hop, then this is your stop."
"You didn't tell me you were going to Trinity," came Cas' voice, dull and flat, through the door.
"Not my fucking problem. You pays your money, you takes your chances."
"That doesn't make sense," said Cas grouchily. "I'm not debarking here."
"Tough nuggies," Dean said. "You paid for one ride. You leave voluntarily or we make you. But either way you're leaving."
The door whooshed open. Cas stood in the doorway, somehow managing to loom even though Dean had several inches on him. Dean had forgotten that the scruffy man had such broad shoulders, had forgotten how dark the shadow of stubble was over his cheeks, had forgotten the way his blue eyes fucking glowed and betrayed that however human Cas might look, he definitely wasn't. Dean took an inadvertent step back, swallowing.
He's kinda hot like that.
Dammit libido what the fuck is your problem? This is not the fricken moment.
"Captain Winchester, are you threatening me?" Cas asked quietly, voice rough and deep, expression terrifying.
Yeah, no, fuck, Dean was definitely turned on. Cas could probably tear him limb from limb and that should not be hot but Goddamn was thinking about it doing illegal things to Dean. Well, they're illegal on Trinity, anyway, fuckin' hidebound planet full of douche bags and their Angels…can't blame a guy for not wanting to stay here…couldn't fuckin' pay me enough to stay here… "Ride's over. Don't care where you go but you can't stay here."
"I paid you enough to carry me across half the known galaxy," Cas said. "Are you truly that extortionate?"
"Yes."
"I see." Though Cas' expression remained hard, Dean saw a flicker of disappointment in those captivating eyes. "In that case, I'm afraid you will have to give me a demonstration of how you believe you can force me to leave." Cas planted his feet, squared his shoulders, wrapped his hands around the sides of the doorframe, and stared.
Involuntarily, Dean flinched from that flinty, glimmering gaze. Cas' eyes were hard as ice, blue as the ocean, cold as fuckin' Cassie's heart. Determined not to be intimidated on his own fricken ship, Dean forced himself to look, forced himself to meet that gaze, forced his lips into a thin, disapproving line and his own eyes to what he hoped was matching hardness. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again.
Aw, shit…what the fuck can I say to that?
The silence stretched out. From the corner of his eye, Dean caught a glimpse of someone moving, a flash of red, a broad smile – probably Charlie – and ignored her, instead doing his best to continue his battle of wills. It was an effort, though; Cas was a surprisingly intimidating mofo when he wanted to be, and Dean wasn't sure if the guy even realized they were in a battle.
"Ready to go, Captain!" chirped Charlie cheerfully.
"Not now, Charlie," Dean growled under his breath. Cas quirked an eyebrow at him. Somehow, even that promised imminent violence.
"You hear me, Dean-o?" she asked brightly, oblivious. "The Impala is all good to set sail – take to the open seas – brave the vast unknown – explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations – boldly go blah blah blah, the whole spiel." When Dean didn't answer, she continued, "Captain?" and waved a hand between their faces.
"A little busy here," Dean snarled.
"Oh, hey, you must be Cas," she went on happily, thrusting the hand towards Cas. "My name is Charlie, computer specialist, I program the auto-pilot and do all the ship automation and generally make sure that, everything the computers do, they do at peak efficiency. Pleased to meetcha!" Cas didn't react beyond quirking his eyebrow even further and tilting his head, a gesture that made him look surprisingly like an overgrown puppy (and great now Dean missed having a fucking dog but there was no way to ship train one not to shit in awkward places…Dean had tried…). Rolling her eyes, Charlie seized Cas' hand. "This is a human thing. We shake hands when we meet. Like this!" She demonstrated. The wind seemed to go out of Cas' sails, his shoulders slumped, and he looked at her with bafflement. "I'm so glad I got to meet you before you debarked!"
"I'm not leaving," said Cas, confusion overlaying his attempt at icy calm.
"Oh, spiffy! In that case we'll have some more time to get to know each other! You should come down to the mess for dinner sometimes – we take turns cooking – tonight is Bobby and dude that's a total must miss but tomorrow is Benny and even though he doesn't eat human food he makes a wicked Jambalaya. Like, literally, I think it might be wicked and the ingredients are probably illegal on several worlds – including this one come to think – but it tastes damn good. Wait, do you even eat? You should give a try sometime, food is awesome." She said it all in a rush, shaking Cas' hand the whole time, and when she was done she turned to Dean. "Ready to go, Cap?"
"Yeah," Dean muttered, disgruntled, turning away from Cas. "Fuck it, yeah, whatever. Cas, next stop is Lebanon, we can figure shit out when we get there."
"Thank you, Dean." Without any further acknowledgement, without saying a word to Charlie, Cas turned back into his quarters, the automatic door shutting behind him and clicking as the lock engaged.
"What the fuck was that all about?" asked Charlie blankly.
"Damned if I know."
"Maybe damned if you don't, too. That one's got trouble written on his forehead, and in his eyes, and in that sex hair, and…oh come on, don't give me that look, I know just how you stiffen up when you see someone whose brains you want to fuck out…oh, ew, I didn't mean…stiffen…I meant…like…you're really fuckin' tense…not…just…you know what I mean!"
"You're stiff," he grumbled.
"Ew, Dean. Just, seriously fuckin' ew."
"Come on, let's get this rust bucket in the sky. Maybe we can find one of those new civilizations you were blathering on about."
"Hey, Star Trek is a classic."
"Fuck that, TNG is over-rated, give me DS9 any day."
"Good God you're a heathen, why do I follow your lead anywhere?"
"Because I have great hair."
"Yeah, you do. Bastard."