Chapter 21

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe. – Albert Einstein.

S-S-S-S-S-S

Sam choked back a laugh as Dean's face turned red.

"Excuse me?" his brother managed to say as he blinked at the angel sitting next to him.

"I asked if you would pass a napkin huggy bear," Cas repeated looking confused. "I decided that would be an appropriate dear of endearment. Is there a problem?"

"Dude, I'm not a huggy bear. I'm a manly man with nothing huggy about me!"

"I enjoy hugging you," Cas pointed out. Sam bit the inside of his mouth to not laugh.

"Well, that's awesome, but you can't call me anything huggy. You gotta think of another one," Dean frowned. "Both people have to agree to the nickname Cas."

"You never asked me if it was okay to call me baby or babe when we are intimate," Cas said.

"Just did not need to know that!" Sam finally let out a huge laugh. "Could have gone my whole life without knowing what Dean calls out in the middle of sex!"

"Sam, we have not-"

"Cas!" Dean stopped the angel from completing his sentence. He then turned and said, "Sam, we're trying out nicknames."

"Cas," the eldest hunter turned back to his boyfriend, "this is a private discussion. We don't talk about sex when other people are around man," Dean was actually blushing. Sam wished he had a picture or something of this moment.

"I understand Dean. Apologies Sam. Dean does not call me baby during his orgasm. I was joking."

"Dude!" Dean shook his head as he buried his face in his hands. They were so damn funny.

Sam checked his phone again. It was well past lunch time, and she should have texted by now.

"Bitch, what the hell's up with you and that phone today?" Dean asked before shoving a fork full of pie into his mouth. Cas sat next to him snuck a bite himself once in a while after refusing to order; seemed like he was getting hungrier these days.

"Nothing," Sam shoved it in his back pocket so he wouldn't be tempted. The silence went on just a beat too long, so Sam filled it with a random, "Jerk."

"He is waiting for the person who texts him every Tuesday at lunch time. They have not texted today, and I assume he is a little distressed given the increased frequency of checking," Cas responded as he grabbed yet another bite of crust. It astounded Sam that Dean hadn't stabbed Cas yet.

"Oh, Sammy's got a girlfriend!" his big brother crowed. "Is she a hottie? Where did you meet her?"

"Not a girlfriend Dean," Sam sighed.

"It could be a boyfriend. Studies have shown that more people lean to the middle of the Kinsey scale; just look at Dean for example," the angel mentioned off handedly before giving up all pretense and just moving Dean's plate in front of himself. Dean smiled at his angel, and Sam wished like hell he had a video of this shit. Dean didn't share food in general. He REALLY didn't share pie, but he would share anything and everything with Cas. It was better than a huge banner that said I love you.

"Whoa – didn't know you could swing. Congrats I guess?" Wow, Dean actually looked more uncomfortable talking about homosexuality than you would think. He currently had his male lover sitting right next to him, and he still looked like he would run from the table if this conversation continued. That was about the funniest thing ever, and since Sam was such an excellent brother, he couldn't let that moment go to waste.

"What do you mean congrats you guess? Isn't there some secret handshake you're going to teach me now? Didn't you go to the 'New Gay Orientation' class when you turned into a big ol' gay boyfriend?"

"Shut up bitch," Dean glared across the table.

"There was a class on gay etiquette? That would have been interesting; do you think we could do to the next one? It might help us resolve what to call each other," the angel pondered.

In hindsight, Sam should have noticed how Cas tracked Dean's movements. As a hunter, details were very important, but he had missed this one. The angel waited until the moment his brother had taken a huge sip of coffee and… Damn. Sam needed to get some sort of wearable video camera to just record his life for moments like this. Dean did the picture perfect spit take. Just let out the finest spray of brown coffee all over the table, plates, and into the empty seat next to Sam.

"Okay, Sam – you shut up. Cas? You gotta' learn sarcasm man," Dean said as he walked off to the bathroom with a napkin trying to clean his shirt.

"That was a good one Sam," Cas said quietly. When Sam looked up he saw the slightest hint of a devious smile on the angel's face.

"You really are getting good at this whole humor thing aren't you?" Sam asked with wonder in his voice.

"It helps that your brother is such an excellent mark. Also, smack talking has been entertaining to study. Your Mom jokes do not interest me though. I suppose if they were Your Dad jokes I might be able to connect more," the angel looked a little put out about that.

"No, not really Cas – they really just suck. So, tell me more about the smack talk. Dean needs to get smacked down," Sam felt it was his job as a younger brother to torture his sibling as often as possible. And Cas was the perfect tool.

S-S-S-S-S

It came out of nowhere really. They were spending lazy Sunday afternoon out in the neighboring pasture target shooting. Cas had never shown any interest in guns, but when he asked to go, Dean was all over it. They'd grown up taking pot shots at cans in that pasture; good times and good memories of the few times he had been able to impress his father, brother, Bobby, and himself all at the same time.

Dean had grabbed a couple of double barrel shotguns, a few boxes of ammo, and Cas. They started small. Twenty yards, huge paper target. Cas wasn't great, but he wasn't hopeless either.

In hind sight, Dean wasn't sure when the betting had begun. For every yard added in distance for Cas, he would add two for himself with a twenty yard head start. By the time they had emptied three boxes of ammo Cas owed him dinner, a make out session, and four pictures of Dean's choosing.

Unfortunately, by the time they had gone through the fourth box, Dean owed Cas everything up to his first born and Baby.

"You hussled me," Dean grinned.

"I believe that is the correct term, yes," Cas nodded looking entirely too smug. It shouldn't be possible to look smug while having such a direct stare, but the angel pulled it off.

"I can't believe you did that," the hunter was stuck between amusement and disbelief.

"I remember when you took me to play pool you said people will bet on anything, and if they think you were unskilled they will bet big," the angel replied.

"Yeah, they will. But you have to give me a chance to win it back. That's part of the deal. Now that I know you've been practicing shooting, it's got to be something else," Dean looked thoughtful. This might be an excellent chance to get his hot piece of angel ass back on track with his work in Heaven.

"I do not think I like that arrangement. Why would I agree to do anything that would cost me my winnings? I am quite looking forward to your increased vegetable intake," he said shaking his head.

"Ok – we can bet for something new then," Dean suddenly knew exactly what he wanted his angel to do.

"Like what?"

"Let's see," Dean pretended to think about it. No need to tip Cas off about how much he wanted this – "If I win, you to go Heaven for two solid days and get caught up on your work."

"That is not fun Dean," Cas made a prissy face. Dean made a mental note to try and cut down on Cas' time with Sam. That was dangerously close to a bitchface.

"I know, but that's the bet. What about if you win?" he tried to get Cas to see the upside. Come on babe – you use to work all the time in Heaven, Dean mentally pleaded even though he knew Cas wasn't in his head anymore.

"Then, I accept. My prize will be one month of picking all music that can be played in the Impala at all times, no matter who is in it," he said with a completely blank face.

"Whoa – no. Just not happening. Dude, that's not worth two days in heaven. Seriously?" Dean took a deep breath. He was pretty sure he wouldn't lose, but not that sure.

"You can, of course, decline if you suddenly realize the futility in trying to best an Angel of the Lord. I understand completely how fragile the human psyche can be," Cas shot him a look of pure understanding laced with a touch of pity.

"Two weeks of music in the Impala in exchange for four days in Heaven, and bite me angel boy." Dean shot back. Fragile his ass.

"Deal," Cas nodded in agreement.

"Really? No argument?" Dean felt a little off balance. He had been expecting way more of a fight.

"I would have agreed to one day of picking the music, so yes. Your suggestion was more than acceptable. The number of days in Heaven does not matter, because I will not lose," the angel shot him a bright smile as if it really was a foregone conclusion he would win. Jackass.

"Won't matter? I'm about to smoke your ass," Dean taunted getting a little worked up. He always did better when he was pissed off.

"I cannot decide if that sounds unappealing or somewhat sexual," Cas tilted he head as he studied his hunter. Dean was suddenly aware of every inch between them. No houses in view, alone in the middle of nowhere with pretty much no chance of getting caught. And just like that, the thought of getting Cas naked in the middle of mother nature and going down on him became all consuming.

"Knifes," Cas said. It took Dean a moment of trying to figure out where knives fit in with an afternoon of outdoor naked sexy time before he remembered what they were talking about.

"Knifes? You want a knife fight?" Dean was still trying to get the picture of a naked Cas moaning Dean's name loudly under that perfect blue sky out of his head.

"I think we should practice our knife throwing. Accuracy and distance. First one to fail to hit the target, in any zone, looses. No best two out of three either, Dean. I win when you miss." Cas was nodding to himself. Fine, after Dean won, then they could have nature inspired sexy times.

"You seem very confidant feather face!" he grinned. Dean had been throwing knifes longer than he'd been shooting. A gun made noise, and noises gave away your position to the enemy. A knife was smaller, lighter, and quieter. Also, it was more difficult to pinpoint where a knife came from because when you hit a target, they tended to stumble around before falling.

"I am. Wait, was that smack talk? I read about talking smack as a way of throwing an opponent off," Cas smiled happily and looked proudly at Dean. "That was very good Dean!"

"Kinda', but if you talk about it like that, it sort of loses something," Oh shut up Cas, Dean finished in his head.

"Do not worry Dean. I am sure your knife throwing skills will be better than your bedroom skills. They could hardly be worse after all," Cas said with complete sincerity.

Dean stared at Cas in complete shock. The hunter could feel the conflicting thoughts fighting for his attention. Cas thought he was bad in bed? Cas was that pissed off they hadn't had sex yet? Dean was pretty damn good in bed and screw Cas if he thought otherwise! Damn it, Cas seemed to always enjoy their time together.

Holy shit – was Cas faking?!

"Was that adequate smack talk? I read it did not have to be based on any truth. Much like 'Your Mom' jokes have no reference to actual mothers," Cas looked at him with concern.

"Oh, yeah – that was a pretty good example of smack talk," Dean felt the air rush in his lungs with relief coursing through his body. Right, smack talk.

"So, let's get started. Five warm up throws then we begin, fair enough?" Dean drew his knife from the sheath on his belt. He hefted the weight in his hands before bringing it up and testing the balance in a slow motion throwing motion.

"If you feel you need that much to warm up, I am certain it reflects nothing of your actual skill," Cas said, nodding as if it made complete sense.

Dean lowered the knife and turned his entire body around to look at his completely sincere angel. What the hell?

"I am getting very good at smack talking. It will be entertaining to talk smack to Sam tonight. I am trying to think of something cutting to say about his salads," Cas was all but bouncing on the tips of his toes at the thought. Man, the weirdest things could make that angel happy.

"That was great Cas. Why don't you take a throw first?" Dean was pretty sure he only said that to be polite. He wasn't actually put off his game by his boyfriend's two cutting remarks.

"Of course. Skill before beauty," Cas stepped up to the stick on the ground marking twenty yards.

"Wait, what? You know what Cas – never mind. No more smack talking. Put up or shut up." Dean wasn't sure how he felt about Cas calling him was beautiful. He did know he was pissed that the angel assumed he was better at throwing.

"You wanna' borrow my knife?" Dean asked while offering the blade handle first.

"No, thank you. I will use mine," Before the hunter could point out the lack of any weapons, a small silver knife appeared in Cas' hand.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're using your angel blade?" No fucking way. What a damn show off.

"Not the sword. Simply a small portion fashioned into a knife. It has been my weapon of choice for millenniums," Cas gave him a look which said You're welcome to ask me to use a regular knife. I promise I never let you forget this moment either. And I will happily tell Sam, any hunter we meet, and every ghost, creature, demon, and stranger you were a baby about my choice of weapon. Ask away.

"Right, just throw," Dean groused. He occurred to him he didn't even know what shit music Cas liked. It was possible Dean could just no go anywhere until the two weeks ran out. That might actually work. He could fix the motorcycle Bobby had in one of the bays and just drive that. Cas did say the car.

Cas drew his arm back and snapped forward in a powerful throw that was almost artistic in its grace. Dean's eyes followed the knife before a bright pop of light almost blinded him.

"Cas!" Dean called out, fear lacing the single word.

"I am fine Dean," Cas' voice seemed a little put out.

"What just happened?" the hunter looked at the pristine target.

"My Grace was not strong enough to keep the blade solid after it left direct contact with my hand," Cas spoke quietly while turning his hand over and looking at his palm. He materialized another blade and just dropped it this time. Sure enough, a bright light flashed and the ground was empty. No knife resting on the grass.

"You're really losing your power aren't you? This isn't just some 'maybe I might sort of be experiencing a slight interruption which will soon be cleared up, no worries' is it?" Dean felt his heart drop.

"Actually, I believe it may be more about the amount of power and concentration required to make an angel blade separate from my grace to spin through the air," Cas looked at his hand and the angel blade sword sat bright and solid nestled in him palm.

"Have you ever been able to throw it?" Dean asked, not quite convinced.

"A few times. It is not very common to need to attack from a distance. It was foolish to try such a difficult maneuver when I was thinking about other things."

"What other things?" Dean asked reaching out and touching the blade. He had always wondered if it would be hot or cold. Would there be an electric tingle or shock? Disappointingly, it just felt like smooth metal.

"I was thinking about trying to convince you to have sex with me soon, and if I could use that as my price when I showed you were vastly inferior when it came to physical combat skills," Cas said without a change in his tone. Dean was pretty sure he would always be thrown by the causal way his angel could just say stuff like that without any embarrassment. "It was a very detailed plan."

"Wow – that's pretty damn distracting alright. And I'm not 'vastly inferior' you dork!" Dean said with a laugh.

They packed the target practice gear up and put it in the trunk. Dean managed to tease Cas and stole a kiss before sliding into the car, but his thoughts were anything but lighthearted. He had to do something about this thing with Cas. He wasn't sure what yet, but he was damn sure it was going to suck.

S-S-S-S-S

AN –So Sammy. I was playing around with this and decided to give Sam a little taste of what-if. I'm not going to tag it yet because it's a tiny little arc. Also, I don't think many people ship it (I certainly haven't as of this point), but I was wondering if I could write it convincingly.