Chapter 2: Like a Teenage Dream

(Dean's Perspective)

Dean hoped with all of his heart that Sam did not notice how awkward he was acting around their favorite trench coat wearing angel. If his little brother even suspected the mother of all weird dreams Dean had woken up from that morning, he would die of embarrassment. Of course, it wasn't a big deal. After all, everyone has the occasional uncomfortable sex dream about their best friend, right? Ok, fine, so they weren't so much "occasional" as "almost every night." When he first met Cass, the intensity between them had hit Dean like a punch in the chest. Now they were pretty close, besets friends actually, and his dreams were becoming more common. It was stupid, that's what it was. He was acting like some stupid little girl in a chick flick.

He remembered the angel's hands on him, everywhere, touching him in his dreams. He hoped he wasn't a sleep talker, because he was sure if he was he would have been yelling his friend's name. Then, Sam would definitely know, if he didn't already, about the less then platonic feelings Dean harbored for Castiel.

He must have been straddling his pillow the way he straddled Cass in the dream. Oh, he had held him so close, and it had been so wonderful. It was nice to feel so safe with someone. He did feel safe with Cass too. The angel had done everything for him, and he was eternally grateful even if he showed it by acting like a total dick most of the time. Dean knew it, but he couldn't seem to stop. Being all touchy feely just wasn't his thing, even if he knew that Cass deserved to know the truth. He deserved to know how Dean loved to stare into these gorgeous, deep, blue eyes. They were endless and timeless, and Dean felt like he could see in Cass', well, not his soul, but his celestial-whatever the hell he had instead of a soul. When he looked into those beautiful blue eyes, that perfect face framed with always messy and adorable black hair, he felt-

"Dean!" Dean was pulled away from his thought's by Sam's sharp voice. He shook his head, and looked up at his tall older brother, blinking his bright green eyes innocently. He tried to look sleepy, like maybe he had just been drowsing off instead of thinking about his stupid feelings which were almost definitely unrequited anyway.

"Sorry Sammy," Dean grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he shifted on the bed. Cass was standing beside Sam, staring right back at Dean as if he had been thinking the same kind of things as the hunter had. God how Dean loved locking eyes with the angel, and pretending that there was a possibility that Cass felt the same as he did. It was so stupid. They were good friends, that was all. Dean was just going to have to get over his dumb ass feelings. That was easier said then done. He had been trying for so damn long. Cass was still staring at Dean.

"Cass!" Sam snapped. The younger Winchester sighed, sitting down on the bed beside Dean.

"My apologies, Sam," Cass said.

"Listen guys, I know we don't have much to go on, but we have a little," Sam said. "We can all agree that the boyfriend was acting shady, right?"

"I don't know man," Dean yawned, realizing that he actually was kind of tired. "I mean, he sounded pretty in love to me. The way he described his girlfriend, it was like she was a goddess to him."

"Exactly, Dean," Sam said. "He described her like she meant everything to him, like she was his true love, right?" Dean nodded blankly. He exchanged a vaguely confused look with Cass, who shrugged. Sam groaned, and buried his face in his hands. "You guys, he couldn't even remember her hair color." He looked at them in exasperation. "Are you kidding me? Am I really the only one of us that noticed he talked about her beautiful BROWN hair?" Dean was having trouble focusing. He couldn't even remember the girl's hair color. "She had blonde hair, you guys! Come on, a girl is dead. Can your eye-sex wait a hot second?"

There was a shocked silence. What he hell? Maybe Dean hadn't been as discreet as he hoped. God damn it. Cass was looking at him with these stupid, wide, desperate eyes like he wanted Dean to explain what the hell Sam was talking about. Well, Dean didn't know either. Or, at least, that was how he was going to play it off.

"Excuse me?" he stood up now, no longer sleepy even though it was growing steadily darker out, and the had spent the day investigating. Damn, he hated research. Actually, he was always more tired after a day of boring ass research then a good hunt. He needed excitement. Research was so freaking boring. He needed to be awake, and moving during a hunt.

"Um, nothing..." Luckily, it looked like Sam was regretting saying anything. Maybe he would just drop it. Wouldn't that be convenient? Way too convenient for anything at would ever happen to Dean Winchester. Oh no, Sam had to change his mind. He had to grow a pair, and decide he did want to confront them after all. "Its just...What the hell is going on with you guys? This is getting ridiculous."

"What are you talking about, Sam?" Cass asked.
"Don't screw around here, Cass," Sam said. "You're a celestial being. Shouldn't you be able to focus on more than one thing at once? I mean, does staring at Dean really take up all of your attention? When I came up with this plan, I thought that you guys were going to do this whole staring into each other's eyes thing, like, the normal amount. Look, this is just over the top!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean interrupted. "Plan? What the hell was your plan Sammy?"

"Uh..." Now it was Sam's turn to be uncomfortable. He mouthed wordlessly for a few minutes until Dean decided they were all acting like a bunch of teenage girls, and he was about done with this crap.

"Fine," he snapped. "Lets move on." He stomped over to the table where Sam had laid out a bunch of books and stuff. He began flipping through one of them, searching for anything to do with any kind of love spell, or potion, or whatever would change someone's feelings towards someone else.

"I agree," Cass said in his deep, gravelly voice that made Dean shift uncomfortably in his chair. Think about anything but that voice, he told himself. Or those, eyes, or that face, or...No! I need to think about freaking skin walkers, and leviathans, and rotting corpses, and damn it, anything disgusting, anything other then Cass. He crossed his legs, trying to be casual about it.

Of course, just as he was focusing on the disgusting thought of a werewolf, devouring someone, Cass had to sit down in the chair right next to him, and their legs pressed together. Sam sat down on the other end and started researching too. Son of a bitch this was going to be a long night. Also, they were going to have to talk about whatever Sam suspected and why sooner or later. Dean was hoping for later, but when the hell did he ever get what he was hoping for?