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"Excuse me sir," Dean says as he approaches the old man who is busy scribbling away at something, "I hope you don't mind us asking a few questions."
"Just a minute," The man is bowed over a piece of paper, before he straightens up and blows on it, a black cloud rising off the paper and landing on the front of Cas's coat.
The angel looks down at the stain, his face puzzled, before he turns to look at Dean.
The old man seems satisfied with his creation and finally looks up at the Dean and Castiel from his chair. His face is wrinkled with age and a lifetime of sitting in the sun.
Dean clears his throat, "Yeah, I was here earlier today and I was wo-"
"I know, son." The man's attention is back on a fresh sheet of paper and his hands move over it etching out lines cleanly and efficiently.
"Look," Dean says, "we just need a few minutes of your time."
"I'm listening," the man says, glancing between them and his paper every so often, "what do you need?"
Castiel looks a mixture of fed up and stressed, "We need information about this morning. Do you recall seeing any demons?"
Dean whacks Cas on the arm sharply, "Details. He asked if you remembered any details about this morning."
"That I don't," the man says, frowning now and then as he concentrates on his sketch. At the silence he looks up at Castiel contemplatively. "Sorry, son."
Dean crouches on the ground, rummaging through the stacks of paper in various stages of yellowing and crumpling. "Cas. This is it."
He hands a sheet of paper to Castiel which the angel takes and regards curiously. It's a charcoal sketch of a car and three men are standing in front of it. The level of detail embedded into it amazing. One man, standing slightly in front of the others has a heavy forehead, is slightly unshaven and has sideburns that Dean hasn't seen since the 80s. He's absorbed in the tomb he's balancing on his forearms—Dean can tell its heavy because of the way the man is standing and the angle he's holding himself at. There's a symbol on the front of it—maybe he could get Sam to look it up?
The other two men are standing slightly behind him, their postures are stiff and they have an alertness to them that's not natural—they've been trained or they're not human. It's hard to tell if they're demons or just hired men. One of them is carrying a container of a sort.
"Can we have this please?" Dean asks straightening up as he takes another look at it. The expression on the center guy's face is unclear yet still a little haunting.
The man hasn't responded, "We'll pay you," Dean says, digging around his back pocket for his wallet.
"They're not for sale," the man says quickly and quietly enough that Dean barely hears it. Dean can kind of appreciate that—not willing to sell something you deem valuable, but not now, when some demon has fucked off with his soul. "You can have this though." He blows heavily on the piece of paper he was working on and another cloud of dust rises off and settles on Castiel's coat.
Castiel's expression is unreadable.
It's a sketch of him and Castiel. The two of them are standing in front of the Impala, Dean is briefing Cas on how to approach this situation but they just look intimate. It might be the body language or the way that Castiel is looking into Dean's eyes or the way Dean's hand is lingering on Cas's arm.
Dean gulps, does not look at Cas and refocuses his attention on the first sketch.
"Is there anything we can do to persuade you otherwise?" Dean asks, making a mental note of the license plate on the car.
"No," the man says resolutely, watching their expressions.
Castiel reaches out with two fingers before Dean can stop him and presses them to the man's forehead. The man slumps backward in his chair.
"Cas!" Dean hisses in his best authorative tone, "What do you think you're doing? We had the license plate!"
"The man was being unreasonable," Cas shrugs and takes the drawing, "I got the job done, didn't I?"
Hours later when they arrive back at the motel, its night because after they took a couple hours to get lunch, Dean decides to fill out a couple more credit card applications, sort out some supplies and make up for where his future self has already started slacking. When was his gun last cleaned?
Sam doesn't seem worried though, when they get back to the motel, he's got a shit eating grin plastered across his face.
"So I was looking into the gas station," Sam explains as he lays out a map on the table which wobbles precariously. "And I realized that to get to it you have to use the highway."
"As you do to get to most places," Dean interrupts, "spit it out already sasquatch."
Sam frowns, but continues, "Look, you either have to use this highway," he traces a colored line on the map and the table sways at the slight movement, "or this highway and they both have toll booths. I mean, sure, there are other minor intersections off both, but I doubt whoever's done this would be so local. Either way it narrows down the search."
"And the toll booth helps how?"
"Well, dumbass," Sam says with a smile, "they're privately owned; so more than likely to have CCTV. Insurance and all that. We can go through it and match it to your picture."
Dean nods appreciatively, "Nice work, Sammy."
"So what now?" Castiel says.
Sam goes over to the faucet to get a glass of water, "Well we can do this two ways; I can work out where the CCTV feeds to and then we can break in or we can contact them under the pretense of being the FBI and ask them to send us the tapes. Either way there's nothing more we can do tonight."
"Looks like I can hit the bars and get me some action then," Dean says stretching and pulling out his leather (pulling) jacket.
"You will not." Cas says moving too fast for Dean to see and suddenly, their faces are inches away.
"I will do what I want." Dean says resolutely, refusing to back down, but does take a step back away from Castiel and towards the door, "Free will's a bitch, right?"
"That's not your body." Castiel says unwaveringly, "Show some respect."
"Look, it's late." Sam interjects before the inevitable 'Suck my dick' comes out of Dean's mouth and Castiel decides to take it literally, "We're all tired, things are going to get nasty—let's all just go to bed."
"If you have no need for me," Castiel looks hurt, and for a couple of seconds Dean feels bad for being a little callous, "I'll be in our- my room. I can track the progress that the Archangels are making."
Sam and Dean watch him disappear, leaving the bed covers rustling as he mojos out.
"So, where am I sleeping then?" Dean asks yawning, as he looks around the one-bedded room pointedly.
Sam stands up from the miniature table and digs around in his pocket for a moment before throwing a motel key at his brother.
Dean looks at it suspiciously, "Am I seriously bunking with Cas?"
Sam nods, "Yes; and speaking of Cas, the way you just-"
"We are not having this conversation," Dean interrupts holding his head, "I am not talking to you about this… this, thing I have with Cas."
"Oh right," Sam says sarcastically, "because you handled it so well already."
"I'm not gay."
"So? Cas isn't a guy." Sam is quiet for a moment, "I've already watched you have one mini gay crisis – I'll think I'll pass on watching you have another."
Dean can't think of anything to say so he leaves the room, switching the spare key for Castiel's room with the one for Sam's. No way in hell is he going to share a bed with Cas.
Maybe he should have stayed out hustling pool for a little longer, Dean thinks to himself as he pushes Sam off him again for the third time that night. The guy needs to learn boundaries; he needs to learn to stay on his own side of the bed. What happened to putting a chair—one that doesn't try and fall apart when you sit on it— in a room? Sure, it's a cheap motel but there's cheap and then there's we'll-throw-in-cockroaches-for-you-at-no-extra-charge.
Dean sighs, but then he's winded when Sam rolls himself onto Dean again. What the hell have they been feeding him, because fucking hell; he's got to weigh the same as a truck. Not even that, a monster truck.
It's either the bed or the floor, but the floor is sticky with fuck knows what and not to mention cold. Dean doesn't have a problem with getting dirty, but there are some things that just don't classify as dirt, nor should be caked onto the floor of a motel room. There's mud and demon bits and then there's just nasty things that he's not sure he really wants to identify. Nothing is worth this, Dean thinks as he slips on his boots, takes several long swigs of liquid courage from the bottle in his bag and grabs the key for Castiel's room.
Two guys sharing a bed. There's nothing gay about that. Especially if they're wearing clothes and Dean intends to be fully dressed. Even if Cas isn't.
Finding Cas' room isn't the hardest bit; he stands outside with his hand held over the knocker deliberating whether to bang on the door until Castiel opens it or just wander in, using the key. Wandering in seemed like a good idea, but what if Cas was busy- what if he was sleeping? Did angels even sleep?
"We do not." Castiel says opening the door and scaring the shit out of Dean.
"Well, that's, erm, good to know," Dean mutters, looking down at the floor, as he tries to act smooth and not, you know, like Cas made him jump five foot in the air. Damn nerves.
Cas doesn't say anything, just stares at Dean.
The two of them are standing in Cas' doorway staring at each other. The whisky's gone to his head.
"So can I come in then?" asks Dean after he realizes Cas won't invite him and an awkward silence has settled. "I do remember you, you know Cas. We're not two strangers standing in the door of a motel talking."
Cas moves out of the doorway and walks towards the bed where he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
"Whoa!" Dean says alarm bells ringing in his head as he catches sight of Castiel undressing, "Why are you taking clothes off?"
Castiel frowns, "I am merely getting ready for bed." And when did he learn to do that?
Yeah, there's getting ready for bed and then there's getting ready for bed. But Dean doesn't say anything pushing the thoughts that trail into the gutter, or in this case Cas' pants, out of his head.
"Yeah about that," Dean's voice is quiet, "would it be okay if I slept in here tonight?"
Cas looks surprised so Dean babbles quickly, thinking that he's going to be kicked out.
"It's just that Sammy doesn't really understand the rules of sharing a bed with someone and when he rolls on top of you it's kinda hard to breathe, let alone sleep. If you know what I mean."
Cas smiles at him fondly, a little like the way he did earlier and Dean realizes that this must be hard for him. To be with someone who looks like your lover, essentially is your lover, but rejects you repeatedly.
"I'm sorry," Dean says belatedly, rubbing a hand over his face, "this was a mistake. I should go."
"It's okay Dean," Castiel clears his throat and smiles, "you can stay – it's not a problem. Just remain on your side of the bed."
Dean nods gratefully and strips out of his jacket and boots before he climbs into the bed. Castiel joins him a moment later, turning the lamp off and Dean freaks out a little since he's noticed that Cas is only in his underwear.
"Goodnight Dean," Cas murmurs before he rolls onto his side away from Dean, and facing the door.
It takes Dean a while to respond since he's caught up in his thoughts.
"Why are we dating Cas?" Dean asks long after Castiel had given up on a response, "I mean – what do you see in me?"
Cas rolls over to face Dean. "I am unsure as to whether or not I should tell you this now." He says after a minute of silence, "I do not think you are ready to hear what I have to say."
Dean huffs, "Do you think I would have asked you the damn question if I wasn't ready to hear the damn answer?"
"Yes," Castiel chuckles low in his throat; Dean's eyes widen and heat pools low in his stomach—his body's memory response to an auditory stimuli; he'd never heard a sound like that come from the angel before. "Yes, you would ask me. Shall I assume you will not let me rest until you have your answer?"
"Damn straight," Dean tucks his arms under his head and rolls on his back to look at the ceiling. "I'm waiting."
"Well there are a lot of things that I cannot tell you," Cas explains, "But let me make it clear that angels do not experience things the way humans do. We are always rational and well, compared to this world, things up there are so much easier."
"Black and white," Dean interjects, showing that he understands.
"Yes," Castiel frowns as the expression takes a moment to register in his mind before he continues, "but down here, we're subject to temptation. Before, you could have asked me what love was and I could have given you ten different definitions. But none of them would have really defined it.
"It is much easier for me to look back and understand why Jacob worked fourteen years to marry Rachel when he could have married Leah in seven, why Ahasuerus chose Esther, why Samspon revealed his secret to Delilah. I can understand why they acted the way they did. I'm experiencing things which I had thought I understood, but I really didn't. I do love my Father, but it's very different from the love that you inspire in me. "
He loves Dean? He loves Dean. He loves Dean. Everything about him says that he loves Dean: the way his eyes have light up, the way he's become animated. Everything.
He pauses, not aware of the impact he's just had with that simple statement, and rolls onto his stomach and uses his elbows to prop himself up so he can see Dean better or, so Dean can see him better, "I cannot differentiate if it is overwhelming because I am new to this. Or…."
"Or what?" Dean prompts unconsciously shifting closer to Cas, the streetlamp outside is pouring through a crack in the curtains. It's highlighting the angel's face and it's making Dean see Cas differently.
"You have to understand. I am an angel. I've been around since the beginning of Creation and I have seen billions of people. But never anyone like you. This has never happened before."
Dean can hear the implications behind that. This man, angel, has fallen in love. And he feels like he's intruding on a private moment between lovers, that it shouldn't be him here, but this other him who reciprocates Castiel's feelings.
"Thank you for telling me Cas," he says after the silence that has stretched between them has grown old and he vows to do everything he can to get his Dean back to him, because it is the least he deserves.
Dean wakes up with his arms and legs tangled with someone else's. Generally, Dean considers it a good start to the day if he wakes up like this since it means last minute/morning sex before he rushes off to meet Sam to do what they have to do.
Today, though, he's not quite sure how he feels about waking up like this. It feels great to wake up with someone, he couldn't deny that. But he's not quite sure how he feels about the fact that it's Cas. Especially as he has a rather large morning wood.
"Good morning Dean," Castiel murmurs.
Dean looks up to see Castiel's face millimeters away from his. He gulps. "Mornin' Cas."
"Did you sleep well?" Cas's hand is moving under the sheets, under Dean's shirt. Onto Dean's chest, traces his abs, circles his bellybutton, dips lower under his boxers. Down, down, down and-
Dean throws himself off the bed in an effort to get away from Castiel's hand. There's a knock on the door and Dean stays exactly where he is, hiding behind the bed, hating his treacherous dick which was enjoying Cas's ministrations, since he doesn't want Sam to know he's there.
Castiel's lips are pressed into a tight line as he stands up and goes to open the door.
"Good morning Sam."
"Morning." Sam replies, sounding worried, "Is Dean here? I just woke up and he's gone."
Cas opens the door wider to reveal the empty bed. "You do not have to worry Sam – he is safe."
"You know where he is?"
Dean's nervous, since he has no clue as to what Castiel will say.
"Where do you think he is?" Cas shrugs.
Sam sighs with relief, assuming that Castiel is being rhetorical, "He's probably gone to sleep in his baby. You know, if he wasn't so into you so much I'd be worried about how much he fixates on that car."
Dean concentrates on getting rid of his morning wood by thinking about how much he's going to hurt Sam when this is all over.
"Anyway," Sam says, and pats Castiel awkwardly on the shoulder, "I'll catch you later-I'm going to go look for Dean."
Castiel nods, "Yes. I will see you later today also Sam."
Dean peeks over the top of the bed as he laces up his boots and watches Cas shut the door.
"I apologize for my actions earlier Dean," Castiel says, his head bowed with what Dean can only assume is regret.
Dean interrupts from the corner where he's putting on his jacket, "Seriously, dude, don't worry about – it was nothing."
"I am still sorry." Castiel mutters, "I forgot who you were. It was not proper of me."
And sleeping with your charge is? Not that Dean's one to talk since he's never been one to play by the rules.
"S'alright." Dean changes the subject in order to make Castiel feel better. "Anyway, dude, you were awesome back there – lying but not, without the, you know, lying bit."
Castiel smiles and it's suddenly Dean's turn to pat him on the shoulder awkwardly.
"I better catch up with Sam," Dean says in lieu of goodbye and then he sticks his head out the door, peers both ways to make sure his brother isn't lurking around outside, and then heads after him.