Dean would never admit it out loud but writing letters to Cas was kind of…fun. Sure, he had to be careful not to leave them too often or Cas would think someone was stalking him, and he was constantly worried Sam was going to find out. But it was worth it to see Cas smile every time he found a note taped to the mirror or tucked between the pages of his book.
So far he'd written seven notes:
I like your eyes
Your smile is awesome
I like it when you're around
Your hair is sexy
I really want to kiss you
I'm thinking about you
I miss you
He wrote the last one when Cas went M.I.A for a week and only managed to send Dean one text message. One fucking message! One! Did heaven not have wi-fi or something?
Dean didn't realize how much that pissed him off until Sam casually mentioned Cas's name, and he threw a screwdriver at his stupid face. Then, he realized he needed to stop because he was acting like a needy teenager. Cas was an adult, and an angel; he was perfectly capable of making his own decisions.
Except what if something happened to him, and Dean didn't know!
Thankfully, his note seemed to do the trick, and Cas only left for at most 13 hours. Yes, he counted.
As far as Dean was concerned, his plan was moving along perfectly. Sure, he lied to Cas about writing the letters, but he figured sooner or later everything would fall into place. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
A soft ding broke Dean out of his thoughts. He took the coffee pot and poured a slightly unreasonable amount into his mug. It was 3:07 AM, so Dean figured he needed to extra energy. Sam would probably complain about cold coffee in the morning, but Dean frankly didn't care.
His sleep schedule had always been wonky (chasing demonic monsters did that to a person), but only recently had he begun to enjoy it. He used the extra time to write to Cas, plan hiding letters to Cas, and...well, there was a lot of Cas involved. What could he say? Cas was sort of on his mind lately.
Dean placed his mug on the table, and stared at the blank page in front of him. I could talk about his badass angel mojo, but then he'd probably know it was me. Maybe I'll just write about smiling again.
Dean was too preoccupied to notice his elbow was slowly pushing the mug away until it shattered on the floor. Dean jumped up. Fuck, fuck, that's definitely going to wake Sam up. He quickly grabbed a broom and tried to sweep the evidence into the trash, but it was too late.
"Dean," Sam called, "Is that you?"
The Samsquatch waltzed into the kitchen, clearly wide awake. Dean hoped he would simply asked what broke, maybe scold him for making coffee so early, and then go back to bed. He didn't know what he was going to say if Sam asked why he was writing something down.
"Sorry I woke you. Just go back to bed."
Please, go away, Dean prayed.
"That's okay, I was actually researching. There's a case in Kentucky that I think might be interesting. "
For fucks sake, why?
"Alright, I'll take a look in the morning."
When Sam didn't move, Dean cleared his throat and glared at him. For all his intelligence, Sam seemed to be terrible at picking up on social cues. Did they not teach 'leave your older brother alone while he's brooding' at Stanford?
Finally, Sam turned to leave. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."
Dean grunted and reached for the paper towels to wipe the coffee off the floor. Next time he vowed to be more careful.
Sam nearly disappeared around the corner, but suddenly stopped. Dean tried not to groan. What could you possibly want?
"So," Sam said, "Cas left one of his books out, and there were these...love notes inside."
No, no, no ,fuck, fuck, fuck, motherfucking hell.
"And?" Dean demanded.
"And, did you write them, Dean?"
"No! Why would you assume that?"
"It looked like your handwriting."
Why the fuck does everyone know what my handwriting looks like?
"I. Did. Not. Write. Them. Is it so hard to believe Cas knows people besides us?"
"I guess not. But you know, if you were interested in Cas, that's ok-"
"God damnit, Sam! I didn't write it."
"Okay, okay. Good night."
Finally, Sam ducked out of the kitchen. Dean sighed. He needed to form the next phase of his plan.
Somewhere around 5:02 AM Dean realized what he needed to do. Get rid of Sam. Not like kill him or anything, but it was impossible to flirt or make a move on Cas with his brother always lurking next to him. He needed one on one time to show Cas he wanted to be more than friends.
Luckily, ditching Sam was pretty easy. The "case" in Kentucky turned out to just be extremely clever teenagers and a prank gone wrong. Sam wanted to leave that night, but Dean recognized his opportunity. He told Sam he wasn't in the mood to drive back, and left him in the motel room.
Once in the safety of the Impala. Dean sent a quick prayer to Cas. He saw a bowling alley on the edge of town, which was the perfect place to start Phase III.
"Hello, Dean," Cas said from the passenger seat.
Dean smiled. "Have you ever been bowling Cas?"
"No."
"Well, we're going to fix that."
Dean backed the Impala out of the motel parking lot. An entire night alone with Cas. He tried not to grin like an idiot, but still ended up tapping his fingers on the wheel.
"Where's Sam?" Cas asked
"He's staying home tonight. It's just you and me."
Dean wanted to believe he saw Cas smile, but it was hard to tell in the dark. Either way, he drove well over the speed limit the entire time. This was going to be perfect.
The bowling alley was a large building with bright yellow and blue lights across the top. The outside looked a little run down and the W in Bowling Alley was burned out, but Dean was too excited to care.
Cas followed him inside, where Dean rented two pairs of shoes that reeked of disinfectant. Cas wrinkled his nose, but Dean managed to convince him to wear them. He even got Cas to take off his trenchcoat, which was a mistake because that shirt and tie looked way hotter on Cas than should be allowed.
When Dean handed Cas a bright blue bowling ball, he stared at it for a moment, then looked back up at Dean.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Cas asked
"Do you see those pins over there? You roll the ball down this lane and try to knock over as many as you can."
Cas paused. "Why?"
"It's a game. Whoever gets the most points wins. Watch me."
Dean plugged their names into the machine, then rolled the ball down the lane. He couldn't remember the last time he went bowling, and it showed. The ball barely hit two pins.
"You are not very good at this, Dean."
"I'd like to see you try, Mr. Angel of the Lord."
Cas was about to roll the ball when Dean realized he was holding it with two hands.
"No, Cas you can't do that. Hold it like this."
Dean took one of Cas's hands and guided it over the three holes. Cas's hands were so soft and warm, yet also tough. He imagined those hands running up his chest and weaving through his hair. It took all of Dean's willpower to make himself let go.
Unfortunately, Cas's first try resulted in the bowling ball rolling into an alley. Dean briefly thought he might have made a mistake because Cas sure as hell didn't look like he was having fun. But then he smiled, and Dean felt pretty damn good.
"You're going to have to try a lot harder than that to beat me," Dean said.
"We will see," Cas smirked.
Thirty minutes later, Dean was sort of regretting challenging Cas. For an angel, the guy was surprisingly competitive. At one point, Dean suspected he was using his angel mojo to improve his game. But when he brought it up, Cas just innocently smiled.
"Swing your arm higher " Cas said.
He stepped next to Dean and gently raised Dean's arm until it was even with his shoulder.
"Got it, Cas," Dean squeaked.
He threw the ball as fast as he could, but didn't pay attention to how many pins were knocked down.
"I'm going to go get us some beers," Dean said.
He rushed to the good counter as fast as possible without looking suspicious. He ordered three beers from the woman with blue hair, but regretted it when she kept smiling at him funny.
"Are you on a date?" She finally said.
Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out. This is not a date We're just hanging out; two friends…
"Cause you two are really cute together. The way you keep looking at him is adorable," She continued
"We're not-I'm not-umm-you see-" Dean stuttered.
The woman laughed. "Don't get so flustered. It's a compliment."
Dean muttered something that sounded like thank you, took the beers, and went back over to Cas. Except Cas was busy. A woman from the lane next to them was busy flirting with him. She kept twirling her hair and laughing.
It made Dean's blood boil. Cas wasn't even trying to push her away. He was just politely smiling and nodding his head every once in awhile. Dean refused to let it bug him; Cas probably didn't even know what she was doing. He was never good with people skills.
Then Cas genuinely smiled and touched her shoulder. In that moment all the hope Dean had built up collapsed on itself and withered away. Cas would never want to date him. Dean was a broken fucked up mess and Cas was an angel with some heavenly duty way more important than Dean.
Cas could essentially have any person he wanted. He could find the purest, most perfect human on the planet, and that definitely wasn't Dean. He was just wasting his time pining for something he could never have.
Dean put the beers bottles on the closest table and reached for his jacket. Cas must have seen him because he stopped talking to the woman and stalked towards Dean.
"Where are you going?" He demanded.
"Back to the motel."
Cas frowned. "We haven't finished our game, Dean."
"You can play without me. I'm sure your friend over there would love to take my spot."
"I don't want to play with her."
"I'll just see you tomorrow or whatever."
"Dean, wait."
Cas reached for his hand, but Dean shrugged it off. He tucked his hands in his pockets and headed for the exit. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid.
The cold air bit at him in the parking lot, and he wondered how even the weather had turned to shit so quickly. He wrenched the Impala door open and silently sat in the seat. The sign across the building seemed to be mocking him with its' bright happy lights, reminding him how perfect everything was. Dean leaned his head against the steering wheel.
Stupid Dean.
