A/N: Here's a philosophical question… Why is it Word's spellcheck doesn't acknowledge 'meerkat' as a word, and yells at me every time I type it, yet it's in the Word dictionary?

Also, I got tired of the long slow build thing and wrote Cas/Dean smut, for the age-old reason of Because I Can. If you want porn with only a vague attempt at plot, go look under my profile for the story I70.


"You know, I'm almost impressed. If you were doing this on purpose, I would be very proud of you. But this is all on accident, so it's just kind of pathetic."

"Thank you, Gabriel," Cas says. He grabs the blank poster stock paper off the coffee table just before his brother puts his feet up on it. "It means quite a bit, knowing I will always have you to support me."

"It's all very chick-flick-esque," Gabriel continues. "It's got that horrible groan-worthy quality to it. It's so bad, it's almost funny." He points at Cas with the Snickers bar he'd gotten in the store before coming up. "You're Reese Witherspoon."

"You watched Gone with the Wind every night for a month when you were seventeen," Cas shoots back. "That is the original and ultimate chick flick."

"Gone with the Wind is a great movie. It's an excellent commentary on the human condition."

Cas stops trying to organize the pile of poster and looks over at his brother, who is gnawing at the Snickers bar and giving him a smug look.

"How is it you're not the gay one?" he asks finally, and Gabriel smirks.

"Rachel asks me that about once a week." He toes off one shoe, then the other, then swings his legs over so he's lying lengthwise on the couch. "So are we seeing loverboy again soon?"

"He has my number," Cas mutters distractedly. "Presumably he asked for it for a reason."

"And you didn't get his number," Gabriel mutters. "I know it's been a while, Cas, but I honestly thought you'd at least be able to remember the basics."

"Why are you encouraging this?" Cas asks. "Last I heard, it was all 'don't go there, this can't end well'."

"You went there," Gabriel answers dryly. "Hell, not only have you gone there, you've set up base camp and begun laying out foundations for the freaking shopping mall. I'm just doing what I can with what you're giving me." He pauses thoughtfully. "Consider this my contribution to the Get Cas Laid Foundation."

Most people have always found it difficult to get any sort of a reaction out of Cas. He is, by nature, contained and composed and quiet.

Gabriel can completely destroy that composed calm in one sentence every single time.

"I will pay you to never say that again," he says, once the moment of stunned horror has passed.

And because it's Gabriel, the immediate response is a hand held out expectantly. Knowing his brother too well to have made such an offer without intending to back it up, Cas pulls a twenty out of his wallet and hands it over.

"So what is all this anyways?" Gabriel asks, changing the subject with all the grace of a drunken rhinoceros as he gestures to the posterboard.

"Wedding pictures," Cas says. "I want to get this done and out of the way so I can do real work."

"Is the happy couple back from the honeymoon? It's not even been a week."

"No," Cas says tightly, and Gabriel grins.

"Right. You're not dealing with the happy couple."

"Rachel," and if anything, Cas' voice gets even tighter, "told them she would handle these 'fiddly little details' while they were gone. Apparently they trust her enough to let her pick out the best pictures and sizes."

"Fiddly little detail? Ouch." Gabriel winces in sympathy.

Lady appears then, dragging a dish towel she had gotten ahold of sometime this morning. She wags her tail at Gabriel but heads to Cas, flopping contentedly down at his feet and worrying the towel with her sharp little teeth.

"You know," Gabriel says thoughtfully, "I was worried I was gonna find myself telling Kali that you killed this poor little thing. But now I'm not. This girl is kicking your ass, isn't she?"

"She is going back when the week is over," Cas tells him. His cell phone starts ringing as he says it. He fishes it out of his pocket, glances at the screen and blinks at the unfamiliar number.

"Yeah, I believe that," Gabriel drawls. Cas ignores it for now and answers the phone.

"Yes?" he asks, a touch warily.

"Hey, Cas, it's Dean."

Cas would give his left arm to not have this conversation with Gabriel sitting right there. The best he can do is turn pointedly away, putting his back to his brother.

"Hello, Dean," he says carefully. He can literally hear Gabriel perk up behind him. He waits a moment, shoots a glance over his shoulder and catches his brother climbing to his feet.

"Bobby got your car this morning," Dean says.

"I still need a new one?" Cas asks, watching as Gabriel makes a production out of heading into the kitchen and getting a glass of water.

Dean gives an amused little snort. "Yeah, sorry. We're not miracle workers."

Gabriel is wandering over casually, as if he thinks he's actually fooling anybody. Cas wonders how immature it would be to lock himself in the bathroom.

"There's paperwork to fill out, so you need to come out to the garage," Dean is saying. Gabriel gives him an innocent look, goes over and sits back down on the couch as he realizes there's no chance in hell he's getting close enough to listen in.

"So, do you need a ride?" Dean finishes.

"No, my brother is here," Cas says, and Gabriel raises his eyebrows in question. Cas moves the phone away for a moment. "I need a ride."

For all of Gabriel's faults, stupidity is not one of them. His gaze goes from Cas, to the phone, to Cas again, and he smiles. "Nope. Sorry. Got a shift starting in twenty."

Which is a blatant lie and Cas knows it- his schedule hasn't changed in three years- and Gabriel knows he knows, and the smug bastard just sits there smirking at him.

"You do not," Cas hisses.

"Do so."

This is in the process of devolving into an argument worthy of the second grade. Cas puts the brakes on this now, giving his brother a dirty look, and brings the phone back up.

"Actually, he's going to work soon, so I do need a ride."

"Cool. Well, I'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Thank you," Cas says. Dean makes a sound that might be in farewell and hangs up.

"How long 'til he gets here?" Gabriel asks, cheerful and far too interested.

"Half an hour," Cas lies smoothly, because if he hadn't learned how to lie to this brother with a straight face, he wouldn't have made it to his seventh birthday. "And if you want to make it to… work," this said with a venomous glare, "you need to leave about five minutes ago."

"Ah, that's right, I just remembered," Gabriel says, shifting his gaze to the ceiling and scratching idly at his chin. "I called in sick today."

"Go. Away." Cas says, enunciating slowly. If anything, his brother's uncharacteristic agitation seems to only amuse Gabriel further.

"Sure thing, kid. I'll accidentally run into him some other time, then." And Gabriel sits up properly and reaches for his shoes.

"You're not going to do the protective big brother thing," Cas says, aghast at the very prospect, and Gabriel scoffs.

"Hell yeah, I am," he says, tone and expression suggesting Cas is a fool for even thinking it might be otherwise. "Are you kidding? I've never gotten to do this before. It'll be fun."

"Gabriel-"

"Gotta run," his brother says as he stands up. "Lift that barge, tote that bale, and whatnot."

"Tote the barge," Cas corrects half-heartedly. "At least take Lady for a while. She's eating my home piece by piece."

"Lady?" Gabriel glances at the puppy, then shoots his brother a knowing grin. "Oh yeah, she's not making any impression at all."

"Just-" Cas begins, pointing to the door.

"Going, Cas. I'm going." He grabs a leash from the dog bag and scoops up Lady. Then he heads out without another word, thus proving that, contrary to popular opinion, he does indeed possess an ounce of both self-preservation and common sense.

Cas just sits on the couch and wonders why he always feels like he's always missing something whenever he has these conversations with his brother.


The knock on his door comes ten minutes later- right on time. Cas opens it and blinks down at Sheila the shop girl.

"That man is here," she tells him. He says nothing, having no idea what she's talking about. "The one with the car," she adds, and it clicks.

She'd been there, that day Cas and Dean had met, and something had changed. Before that she had refused to look Cas in the eye and blushed furiously whenever he spoke directly to her, but now she's friendly. She almost sounds protective, as if she's offering to throw Dean out should Cas ask her to.

Cas will freely admit he's not the most socially graceful, or even observant, person in the world, but he has no idea what he did that day to get her to warm up to him so fast.

He closes and locks the door behind him and heads down the stairs after Sheila. She takes up position behind the counter and gives Dean what could only be described as the stink-eye. Dean ignores her, catches Cas' eye and jerks his head in a come on then gesture. Cas follows him out and in turning to catch the door so it doesn't swing closed on him, notices movement out of the corner of his eye and turns back. Sheila is blushing again.

"Something wrong?" Dean asks, standing next to his car, and Cas starts moving again.

"People confuse me," he admits freely. They both look back, and Sheila gives Cas a self-conscious smile and an odd little wave.

"Seriously?" Dean asks on a laugh, and Cas looks at him questioningly. Dean looks back at Sheila, then at Cas, and gives him an oddly fond smile. "I've seen this before," he says, tone gently mocking. "Those of us who live on planet Earth call it a 'crush'."

Cas moves over to the Impala's passenger door, because they can't just stand there and keep looking at the poor girl. "A week ago she wouldn't even speak to me."

"That was then. Things change." Suddenly, Dean looks almost uncomfortable with the conversation. He opens the car door and gets in and the sound of a heavy metal band- Cas has no idea which one- fills the air.

He isn't quite brave enough to actually turn the music down, once he's in his seat, but he does give Dean a pained look. Dean turns the volume down in concession. Then a new song starts, and he immediately starts singing.

Cas has no idea where Bobby's garage is, but he hopes it's somewhere very close.


Bobby Singer in his natural element is a completely different man than the one Cas had met at the wedding. He's wearing a shirt that might have once been grey under a ratty old plaid thing and jeans that are probably older than Cas. And the hat, of course. He hears the Impala coming, apparently, and is waiting for them in front of a run-down looking old mechanic shop.

"Don't judge," Dean says, clearly seeing the look on Cas' face. "Best mechanic in the Midwest."

"Of course," Cas replies, toneless as always, deciding the least he can do is reserve judgment.

"You were at Sam's wedding," Bobby says to him as he gets out of the car, looking surprised, like perhaps Dean hadn't bothered to tell him anything about who Cas is. "One of the angels, right?"

"What?" Dean does the meerkat thing, poking his head up over the roof of his car and looking back and forth with wide eyes. "What angels?"

"Yes, I am," Cas says to Bobby, then turns to Dean. "My brothers and I were all named after angels."

"An angel named Cas?" Dean asks, confused.

"Castiel." At the continuing silence, Cas squares his shoulders and lifts his chin in a semi-challenge. "The angel of Thursday."

Dean snickers. Bobby rolls his eyes and gestures for Cas to follow him as he turns and heads inside.

"The angel of Thursday? Are you kidding me?" Dean's still laughing. Cas ignores him, heads after Bobby. He hears Dean following, his humor dying away as he realizes Cas doesn't find it nearly so funny.

"At least tell me you were born on a Thursday," he says, once they're inside, and Cas feels the familiar old resignation, knows he looks pained.

"Sunday."

"If you're done…" Bobby says to Dean, who looks about ready to start laughing again. Once it's apparent Dean will contain himself, Bobby turns back to Cas and hands him a couple of papers. "Fill this out. It'll transfer the title over to me. You'll need to deal with your insurance and registration yourself. You got any questions, ask Chuckles over there."

"Thank you," Cas says, but Bobby is already leaving. He looks over at Dean, who shrugs a little.

"He's family," he says, in a what can ya do sort of way. Cas has never known anyone as family who isn't actually related, and so says nothing. He goes over to the counter instead, finds a pen leashed to the Formica surface by a beadshot chain. There are no chairs, so he leans on his elbow as he writes, shifting constantly to keep his arm from falling asleep.

The second page goes from standard questions in perfectly understandable English to complete gibberish within the space of three lines. Cas frowns down at it for a long moment, tilting his head as if a new angle will give him better insight, then sighs.

"Dean?" he calls out, thinking Dean has gotten bored and wandered off. Instead, there's the sound of a clatter and a muffled crash and Cas starts at the noise, peering over his shoulder.

Several shelves full of what Cas can only assume is a mechanic's tools line one wall. Dean is standing near one that is swaying ever so slightly, his hand on it to steady it, several of its items scattered across the floor.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Cas says.

"You didn't, I was just…" He stops, coughs a little, says in a deeper and calmer voice, "You need something?"

"I have no idea what any of this means," Cas says, after a moment, and as Dean moves forward he steps away. While Dean's looking at the papers, Cas glances over at the doorway and sees Bobby standing there, frowning at both of them.

Then Dean asks him a question about his car and Cas is distracted for a few minutes. When he looks up again, Bobby is gone.


Bobby gives him fifteen hundred for his car, which is honestly more than he'd thought he'd get. Cas thanks him for his help and gets a grunt that manages to combine you're welcome and goodbye into one sound.

As they head out to the Impala, Bobby calls Dean back. Cas stays by the car, close enough to feel the warmth radiating of its black body, and watches as Dean and Bobby discuss something apparently very important, voices kept low. After only a minute or two Dean gestures to Cas and Bobby gives him a look, and suddenly Cas can see the whole family thing- that is the glare of a highly annoyed father.

"We'll talk later," he says ominously, loudly enough that Cas can hear it, and Dean flinches just the tiniest bit.

"What was that about?" Cas asks as Dean reaches the car.

"Ah, he thinks I'm being an idiot." He smiles as he says it, like there's nothing new there, like it's almost endearing.

"For helping me?"

"No," Dean says, a little too sharply, then shakes it off. "Look, don't worry about it."

"Family thing?" Cas asks as he gets in the car. Dean snorts.

"Yeah, something like that." Dean starts the car, leans back in the seat and glances over at Cas. "So you need a new car, then."

It doesn't really sound like a question, so Cas doesn't answer it. After a moment Dean continues, warily, as if unsure of his reception.

"Can you afford a new car?"

"Yes," Cas says, without even considering it, because it's true. After a good month, he could afford three.

"Huh," Dean muses, glancing at him. When Cas frowns, he explains. "It's nothing, just… you were kinda quick, there. Exactly how much do you make, anyways?"

"It varies," Cas replies. "Enough."

"And you really are a…" Dean pauses there, sliding quick little glances over at Cas.

"Nude photographer. Yes."

"I thought you were making that up," Dean says, after a long moment or two. "I mean, no offense, but you're not exactly-"

"I know," Cas interrupts. He's heard this before.

Dean lets out a disbelieving little laugh. "How'd you even get into that?" he asks, and Cas gives a little shake of his head. The story is too long and too involved to get into. After a moment Dean blows out his breath. "Career day at your high school must've been a lot more interesting than the one at mine."

Cas smiles, just a little bit.

"Wait a minute," Dean says suddenly, alarmed, and looks at Cas with wide eyes. "Anna, she's your friend, she isn't-?"

"One of my models, yes," Cas finishes for him. "I've worked with her for three years."

"Wow." Dean looks out the window, back over at Cas. His expression is similar to that of a gaffed trout. "Just… wow. Did not see that one coming."

Cas doesn't say anything to that, remembering once again how Anna and Dean had been cuddled together at the rehearsal.

"So are you always this chatty, or is today just special?" Dean asks.

"Today is special," Cas says, all seriousness, since he's talked more in the past hour than he normally does in a forty-eight hour period. Gabriel's right, he really does need to get out more.

"You're not joking, are you," Dean mutters, shooting him another look.

"My brother thinks I'm closing myself off," Cas says, and immediately wonders why he said it.

"Well, you're a photographer," Dean replies. "Isn't that kinda the point?"

Cas looks at him, stares at him really, until Dean is looking uncomfortable. He forces himself to look away, not liking how much Dean's opinion means to him. It's one thing to appreciate a pretty face, a well-built body. It's another thing entirely to start admiring the whole package.

Then the Impala is making the turn into the store parking lot, and the conversation, awkward and meandering and revealing as it was, is over. Cas shifts forward a little bit.

"There's a lot around back, and a door to the stairs," he says. "You don't have to come in through the store."

"Sure," Dean says, and Cas realizes it doesn't matter. Dean won't be dropping by here again.

"Thank you, again," Cas mutters, almost to himself, oddly reluctant to get out of the car.

"Anytime. Good luck with the car shopping."

It seems like he's always watching that big old car drive away. So Cas goes through the door before Dean can shift it into reverse, and is halfway up the stairs when the behemoth makes the turn out of the parking lot.

It doesn't really help. He can still hear the throaty engine fading away.