Dean was starting to get suspicious of his little brother.
Not only had Sam not only offered, but practically forced the front passenger seat on Castiel, but he hadn't offered to drive once during the long seven hour drive from Spanaway to Whitefish. When they had stopped for gas in Spokane, he had even picked up some of those cheap little pocket pies that Dean loved- one of each flavour, even, suggesting that he could share with Cas and see if the fallen angel liked them as much as he did.
They were now passing through Kalispell and Dean took the exit off of I-2 and onto I-93, less than twenty miles from Rufus's old cabin, which had in the last couple of years become an occasional sanctuary. It wasn't Bobby's house, but it was more permenantly fortified than a hotel room and it beat hanging out in the car forever.
After Inias had left them and Cas had finished putting the sigils on the frame of the car, Cas and Sam had poured over the crusty old parchment. Freakin' nerds. Sam had used the tether on his phone to search the web on his laptop, sending a couple of crappy mobile shots of the sigils to Garth for reference and further research. They didn't find much, but it was something to do.
Cas had nodded off again and Sam's laptop had run out of juice, and so had he had shut it down, now resting his head back against the window sort of half-napping.
Dean didn't want to outright admit that he was thankful to Inias. He was still kind of ticked off about the whole ditching Cas thing and then almost causing him to run Baby off the road when he'd suddenly appeared. But, he figured, they needed the help where they could get it. They didn't really know what they were up against, and he wondered what, other than ditching the rank and file and going AWOL for good, Castiel had done to piss Heaven off so bad.
His thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound from his right. He glanced over to Castiel and saw a troubled look on the sleeping angel's face, eyes still shut, brow furrowed, mouth slack and slightly open. He whimpered softly and Dean saw him jerk a bit, though otherwise Cas didn't stir.
Dean frowned, wondering idly if Inias could visit Castiel in his dreams, if other angels might be able to somehow harm his angel while he slept.
Dean checked the road, then leaned over a bit, brushing his fingers through Castiel's hair lightly as he had done on occasion when Sam had been sick or upset or frightened when his brother was still very young.
He smiled to himself when it seemed to do the trick, and Cas had quieted again- shifting into a more comfortable position and burrowing into his jacket, seeming contented. It had just been a nightmare, nothing to worry about.
Catching himself in the act of another chick-flick moment, his eyes shot to the rear-view mirror, but Sam still seemed to be out of it, so he was good.
Letting out a brief sigh of relief, he put both hands back on the wheel. He was really going to have to knock this shit off. The more he thought about it, the less rational it became. Probably all it was, he figured, was that he just needed to get laid. He hadn't gone out to a bar for anything more than a drink in ages. He liked Cas, sure, and even let himself admit that he thought Cas was kind of hot- for a little nerdy dude. But there was no way it was more than that, right? And besides, Cas used to be an angel. There was no way Cas would ever see their relationship as anything more than just plutonic.
He was so deep in thought he'd almost missed the turn-off for Wisconsin Avenue, barely even having registered they'd already made it into Whitefish. He felt a little guilty as he took the turn a bit too sharply and woke his passengers.
He heard Sam stretch and groan from the back. "There already?"
"Just about," Dean confirmed, shaking off his thoughts. "Should be there in about half an hour. Think we ought to hit the store before we head up? I don't remember what all we had the last time we were up here."
"Probably a good idea," Sam agreed. "It's been a couple months."
Dean nodded, pulling in to the parking lot of the first shopping centre they found that had a grocery store. Dean figured they were going to be in Montana for a week or two at least, provided nothing came up that required them to move on. If they were going to be stationary, it just made more sense to stock up than keep picking up their meals from a diner.
Castiel eyed the market dubiously as they drove down the aisles of the lot. It was only five-thirty local time (even though the clock in the Impala's dash still stubbornly proclaimed that it was six-thirty), and the store was teeming with people. Dean had to stifle a laugh when he had the sudden hilarious image of Castiel as a stereotypical angel, wings and halo and all, looking grumpy with his feathers all ruffled in irritation.
The fallen angel caught the sound, however, and turned over his shoulder, giving the hunter an epic bitch face. Holy crap, he needed to stop letting him spend so much time with Sam- he was getting way too good at that.
Dean just grinned back at him. "Morning, sunshine," he greeted as he pulled the car into a parking spot as near to the door as he could find.
"Is that some sort of 'pet name'," Castiel groused as he pulled himself upright in the seat.
Dean blinked at the the fallen angel, pointedly ignoring his brother's snickering as the moose vacated the back seat. He could never really tell when Cas was exorcizing his limited grasp of sarcasm, but he had a feeling this might be one of those moments. To save face, he decided to ignore it as he got out of the car.
Castiel seemed mortified by the store once they were in it, all the nine-to-fivers doing their shopping on their way home from work. Dean found himself somewhat amused by Castiel's reaction to the crowd. He'd never seemed to mind it so much when he was still an angel, but Dean figured the whole dealing with new emotions and being human thing was probably still overwhelming him. He hadn't exactly been exposed to much beyond the motel room and the every day personal aspects of humanity, and he still didn't have jack for social skills.
He noticed that Cas had fallen back into his human shadow routine, sticking close to Dean's side during the entire shopping adventure, watching the after-work crowd soccer moms and IT guys mill about the aisles while they filled their own cart with the staples that would stock the cabin for a few weeks.
They were on the freezer aisle now, and Sam had gone back to the produce section to retrieve some 'you-know-whats' (they couldn't even say the word 'tomato' around Cas without the fallen angel giving them a disgusted look. Not that Dean didn't do it once in a while, just to pick on him).
Dean was eyeing a box of hot wings when Cas suddenly grabbed his hand.
"Dean!"
Dean tensed, ready for a fight. Was it demons? Had the angels found them? He reached for his knife, but when he turned around, he saw that Cas was just looking at him, a hopeful, longing look of purely childish excitement on his face as he pointed at a box of frozen White Castle burgers.
Dean just stared at him, dumbfounded. So what if he started laughing his ass off, it was freaking hilarious! When the hopeful look melted off Castiel's face, morphing into one of quiet confusion and mayble slightly hurt, Dean lost it completely.
He was in Tears when Sam came back, dropping his items into the basket. The sasquatch was just looking between him and the fallen angel who was, oh my lord, he was pouting. Dean couldn't breathe.
"Wha- Dean?" Sam gave Castiel a questioning look. "What happened to him?"
Castiel looked so lost, appalled really, that when Dean tried to draw a breath he snorted.
Sam gave him a worried look.
"I think he is being attacked," Castiel stated.
Dean finally drew in a breath, resting his hands on his knees for a moment and shaking his head. "No... I'm.. I'm fine..." He grinned as he stood upright, opening the freezer door and grabbing two boxes of the damned burgers because, why the hell not? He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that, and despite his aching sides, it felt good.
Castiel still had a confused look on his face, but he seemed pleased, and that was all Dean needed.
[XXXXXX]
An hour and a half later, they were finally at the cabin, their purchases put away and the new wards put in place. They were now seated at the table, Sam again glued to his laptop as they enjoyed a late dinner.
Castiel still didn't quite understand Dean's outburst in the market, but it had been quite the subject of discussion long after they had left. It seemed that he had been the cause of Dean's laughter, much to his confusion, though Dean had assured him that he was laughing 'with' him and not 'at' him, whatever that meant. He supposed that, in retrospect, Dean's fit of laughter had been quite hilarious in itself.
He found himself impressed with the meal that Dean had prepared. It was quite different from the things they had eaten at the motel and on the road, and he found it satisfying. He didn't understand why Dean had smirked, or the look he exchanged with Sam when he had confirmed that yes, he enjoyed the spaghetti very much.
"You know what goes great with spaghetti, Cas?" Dean had just sat down with his second helping and had brought back with him to the table a bottle of wine.
Sam looked at his brother warily. "Dude, you're not..."
"Come on, Sammy! Lighten up," the elder Winchester said as he filled three glasses. "It's been a long freaking week, we deserve a little real down-time. Besides, Cas is a big boy. It's fine."
Castiel eyed the glass, then the the hunter. "Wine?"
Sam sighed, bearing the expression that Castiel had come to know of as the one he used when he had given up on something Dean was doing that was likely dubious but essentially harmless.
"Merlot. Goes good with pasta," Dean explained.
"When did you become a wine expert," Sam eyed his brother skeptically.
"What? I read," Dean protested. "Besides, sometimes it's beneficial to know these things."
Sam rolled his eyes, taking a drink from his glass. "Only you would memorize wine pairings for that reason."
"What can I say," Dean grinned at his brother. "I'm an expert."
Castiel had no idea what they were referring to, but then again the elder Winchester frequently used pop culture references. He had picked up on some of these in the time he had known the man, but for every one he understood, it seemed there were hundreds more that eluded him.
Castiel lifted his glass and tasted the dark crimson liquid tentatively. It was bitter at first, but as it passed his tongue it became sweet and faintly tart. He found that past the initial bitterness of the wine, he actually rather liked it.
"Not bad, huh?" Dean was watching him. Castiel suspected that the hunter was up to something.
Castiel was on his third glass of wine by the time they had finished dinner, despite Sam's admonishment that he 'slow down'. He didn't think he was consuming it too quickly, and so he ignored the younger Winchester's advice. What did he know, anyway? Castiel was older than dirt. Well, maybe not dirt, but certanily older than Sam.
"Uh, what?" Sam stared, dumbfounded at him when Castiel informed him of this fact.
Dean was snickering at his brother. "Wow, somebody's a surly drunk..."
"Don't call me Shirly, Dean."
Even Sam laughed at that. He sighed, taking his coveted glass with him as he decided suddenly that he did not like the air in the cabin while Sam was breathing it and spitting his words into it. For some reason, he found the sound of Sam's voice to be grating at the moment.
He cursed the floor in Enochian as it continually inched it's way to the left, trying to throw him off balance. He made his way to the door despite the floor's best efforts, and contented himself to sit on the steps in front of the cabin.
After a few minutes of peaceful solitude in which he found that his glass had become empty, he became aware that Dean had joined him on the porch, dropping down beside him on the step. Sam had, bless him, remained indoors.
"So," the elder Winchester said, taking a pull from the bottle of beer he had acquired between the table and the door. "How are you doing, really?"
"I'm fine," Castiel murmured. He didn't really feel like talking about 'feelings' just now. They were troublesome, and he missed not having to deal with the burden of complex emotions.
"Really? Coz, uh," the hunter continued, gazing up into the still evening sky. "You've been moping. Like, a lot."
Castiel frowned. Moping? He searched his new dictionary of emotions and found it listed near 'moody'. Of course he was moping. He had fallen, and now his brethren wanted him and the Winchester brothers dead. He felt as though he had every right to mope, and told Dean so.
Dean smiled, chuckling softly. "Remind me never to give you alcohol again," he said, Castiel thought, rather pointlessly.
The hunter looked to the ground, sighing softly. Castiel turned his head curiously to watch the other man.
"Look, Cas," Dean said. "I know you're dealing with a lot of crap, but you know, you still have us. It's not all that bad, is it?"
"It sucks," Castiel intoned, earning a surprized look of amusement from Dean. "But," he continued. "It is better with you here with me. I don't know if I would be able to handle this without you, Dean. Or without Sam..."
Dean watched him, holding his eyes for a long moment without saying anything. Castiel was suddenly aware it was making him a little uncomfortable, the way the hunter was watching him. There was something stirring that he couldn't put a name to. He had felt similarly since he had known him, over the last week since he had become human especially, only in the presence of Dean. But being alone beneath the stars, the way the light from the window fell and cast shadows across his face...
He felt light headed and his heart seemed to miss a beat every so often as it drummed a staccato in his chest. He frowned as he tried to identify it, to perhaps draw a conclusion from his talks with Sam on the matter, but nothing was coming to him.
He had lost himself trying to define this sudden, confusing new sensation. He decided that it wasn't unwelcome, it felt something not unlike anxiety, but there was something succinctly pleasant about the sensation. He had become so distracted by his thoughts that he was utterly unprepared for what happened next.
Dean had moved closer to him, reaching a hand and turning Castiel's face back to his own. Castiel caught a brief flash of intense gold-flecked green eyes that seemed for an instant to pierce him. He felt his breath catch- an irrational reaction, he pondered briefly- and then he felt the hunter's lips against his own, warm and positively sizzling with an energy that Castiel had never felt.
His eyes went wide in surprize. What just happened? Dean was kissing him. Why was Dean kissing him? I think I like this, very much...
Just as he was beginning to grasp what was happening, he felt Dean slip away. He stared numbly at the hunter, not entirely certain how he should react. Should he do something? Say something?
Dean's expression slowly went from expectant to nervous, and from there declined to outright terror as he looked away, pulling himself up from the step.
"Sorry," he murmured quietly, turning to go back in as his expression darkened.
Castiel reacted purely instinctively, the effects of the wine blown away by the brief, chaste kiss. He was vaguely aware that if Dean walked away, he would never experience that again, and he decided that he was fairly sure that he wanted to.
He stood, grabbing Dean by the front of his jacket as the hunter ascended the stairs. He had to be certain his hunter wasn't going anywhere, and that he would get the message very clear. He knew that Dean often did not take things well or as intended unless he was told in blunt terms.
Castiel pushed Dean against the frame of the door, gripping the lapels of his flannel shirt and, employing what he had learned from the Pizza Man years before, he returned Dean's gesture of affection.
He felt the hunter tense at the sudden assault. Castiel wondered for a moment if he had miscalculated, but his fears were assuaged a moment later when he felt the other man relax, reciprocating the kiss. It was warm and wet and tasted of wine, spaghetti and beer- and something uniquely Dean that sent a wonderful shiver over his skin.
When they finally broke away, Dean was staring at him. Castiel was irritated that he found he had difficulty catching his breath, until he noticed that Dean seemed to have the same problem.
Castiel was beginning to think once again that he had made a mistake, but then Dean simply stepped forward, putting his arms around him. He found that he enjoyed the warmth, much as he had come to enjoy sleeping beside the hunter, though (and he hadn't found it in himself to admit this) he no longer really felt he needed Dean in order to sleep.
"Wow," was all Dean said.
Castiel smiled to himself as he rested his head against Dean's shoulder.
For the first time since falling, his heart felt light, and he rejoiced that he had found this in his favourite human.
.
(A/N: Aaah all that fluff! I was going to save the last bit for a while, but it was so coming. Dean was getting impatient lol. Drunk!Cas is so surly it's adorable. Also, the joke about spaghetti- Cas apparently hates tomatoes. What is spaghetti sauce made from? :P Hope ya'll enjoyed the bounty of squish :P until next chapter!)
(2nd A/N: idk what's up with the site not showing this chapter... usually it links right away, so I'm hoping that deleting/reposting the chapter fixes the problem. It was weird, I couldn't even get to the link from email. Disconcerting, to say the least.)
