As they pulled into the small and ill kept parking lot, Castiel mused over the nature of hotels in America. They were all the same. Rather than boring, Castiel found it fascinating. Large buildings with minor variations in décor all housing a honey comb of private spaces perfectly suited to dining, recreation, and enjoying physical intimacies. Castiel imagined if you were to bisect some of the larger establishments it would be like revealing the inner workings of a termite nest. This building was smaller; closer to what he supposed in human terms would be called a bed and breakfast. Castiel felt somewhat exposed as they exited their vehicle, given that the hotel was situated along an otherwise empty stretch of highway. The last town had been a good hour behind them. Dean, more accustomed to life on the road, seemed unperturbed, and instead was focused on his small mobile phone. Castiel waited patiently while Dean finished his message.
"Just lettin' Sam know that we're stopping off," he mumbled before stowing the device in his back pocket. Castiel walked slightly behind him as they approached the mission style building. He usually preferred to let Dean take the lead when it came to human interactions. Also, walking a step or two behind Dean offered a very agreeable view of the hunter's ass, which, Castiel had learned from experience, was a fine specimen to behold.
Castiel felt a bizarre shiver as they passed through the glass double doors, as if he had accidentally walked through a spider's web. He paused, resting a hand on the aluminum doorframe. Despite his Grace flickering through the metal, he could sense nothing paranormal about the building, or the entranceway. Dean turned when he noticed Castiel was no longer following.
"Come on, slowpoke," Dean chided, "Let's get checked in before they run out of tacos. They smell damn good from here."
Maybe it was Dean's reassuring grin, but an inner voice told Castiel that everything was just fine, and that he need not investigate further. He withdrew his Grace from the walls and followed the hunter to the check in desk, where a young woman waited with a welcoming smile. Castiel decided he would not disturb Dean with his brief sense of unease. Despite his own impatience, Dean did look tired from the long drive, and Castiel still considered it his responsibility to ensure Dean was taking care of himself. Castiel was more than capable of protecting them both if the need were to arise, and in the meantime there was no reason for Dean to be distressed. When Dean jingled their room keys in front of Castiel with a smile, Castiel returned it easily, shaking off his reverie and following Dean down the hallway.
Dean inspected the room, just a standard check for hex bags or sigils carved into furniture. It was a typical hotel set up, with a half-hearted attempt at Southwestern flair. Mass produced photos of the Grand Canyon hung framed on the wall, and the walls themselves were a sandy marbled pattern. The single queen bed, which Dean had practically dared the hostess to comment on when he'd rented the room for the both of them, had a dark red coverlet to match the thick curtains that were open to let in the sun, which was just beginning to set despite it being almost eight. Dean stashed his handgun under one of the too fluffy pillows on the bed, and left a bottle of holy water in the desk drawer, right next to the complimentary Gideon bible. Just in case.
When Dean had finished his routine, Castiel was considering the large bed as a scientist analyzes a big batch of data. As Dean wrapped his arms around the angel, planting a kiss on his shoulder, Cas turned his head to examine Dean with the same brow furrowed concentration.
"Thinking dirty thoughts?" Dean kept his lips moving, scooting closer to the sensitive skin of Cas' neck. They'd have plenty of time later, but there was nothing wrong with a little heavy petting before dinner.
"I would like to have intercourse with you, Dean." Dean stilled against the fabric of Castiel's trench coat, then resumed his ministrations, keeping his voice even.
"Uh, I don't know where you've been for the last couple of months Cas, but we've had sex plenty-"
"That's not my meaning, which I know you're already aware of."
Dean ceased his kissing with a sigh, nuzzling into Cas' hair instead. They'd been dancing around this issue for almost a week now. It wasn't a fight, no one was angry, but it wasn't going away either. "I know."
"Three months. Three. I'm willing to be the submissive partner, if that is your concern-"
"First of all, I don't think that word means what you think it means-"
"Fine. I am willing to be penetra-"
"Ok! I got it! I get it Cas, but that's not the issue here, ok?" Dean stepped away from the angel, pretending to be busy hanging up his jacket to hide his discomfort with the topic of conversation. It's not like he didn't want to go all the way with Cas. He did. Just…you know…someday.
"Is this about your preoccupation with gender norms? Because, as I have established to you repeatedly, I am not male."
"Not to you maybe. Anyways, that's not it. I like your maleness. …Never thought I'd hear myself say that."
"Then what? My feelings for you are not trivial, and I wish to consummate them."
"Hey." Dean turned Cas around to kiss him long and slow. "Nobody's feeling anything trivial here, ok?"
Castiel's eyes fluttered shut, even after Dean pulled away again. "Ok."
"We'll get to the consumating," Dean said quietly, flicking an unruly strand of hair off of Cas' forehead, "I just…need a little more time to adjust is all."
"I understand," Castiel rumbled, eyes warm, if somewhat frustrated, "Despite humans' relatively short life spans, it's still very difficult for you to adapt to new revelations concerning relationships and sexual preferences."
Dean laughed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I forget what a sweet talker you are." Cas continued to squint at him in what Dean hoped was fond confusion. Dean gave him a light peck before encouraging him to shed his heavy trench coat.
"If we're gonna eat tacos in a non-air conditioned hotel in the middle of California summer, the coat stays here," Dean said firmly, hanging the somewhat threadbare garment beside his own jacket, "We don't need people looking at us funny anymore than they already do."
Castiel looked momentarily disconcerted, but after a short while he also shrugged off his suit coat, remaining only in his white shirt and tie as they headed back to the hotel's connected restaurant. Dean did his best to keep his focus on where his feet were going, and not on the shape of Cas' torso, no longer hidden by so many layers.
As they approached the dining room, where the same woman who had checked them in turned out to be the waitress as well, Dean had to marvel at the fact that the biggest problems they seemed to be having right now were whether him and Cas were ready to have sex and Sam deciding if he was gonna reorganize the Men of Letters library by genre or author's last name. Ever since Gabriel had blown back into town things on the Heaven and Hell fronts had cooled down until Team Free Will was basically back to hunting poltergeists and skinwalkers. From what the archangel was saying, it looked like God was taking more of an interest in his creations, and Gabe was back to being his number one messenger boy, which meant Crowley was lying low and the angels weren't being a big a bunch of dicks as usual. Cas was off the hook apparently, after Gabriel told him that he was going to have a nice long chat with Heaven's personnel management. Dean knew that Castiel's guilt still weighed on him, but he didn't plan on letting the angel carry it by himself anymore. They seemed to have come to an understanding, as Cas had become prone to staying in the bunker with Dean and Sam, and more often than not accompanying them on their hunts.
They were seated at a corner table with the sort of strange wicker chairs that tourists would think of as authentic. Cas sat across from Dean, examining the plastic coated menu with a slightly overwhelmed expression, while the waitress waited to take down their order.
"…I believe I'll just have a soda," the angel concluded at last, closing the extensive menu with a slight frown. The young woman looked slightly concerned, but Dean just gave her the trademark Winchester smile.
"He's a light eater," Dean assured her, "I'm gonna have Combination three, no sour cream."
"That'll be right up," she said, still eyeing Cas strangely. The waitress left them to their conversation and the complimentary chips and salsa that adorned the table. Dean munched his way through most of the bowl, Castiel satisfied to keep watch over the empty dining room. With he and Cas being the sole occupants of the room, Dean couldn't help but feel the lack of Sam sharply.
"It almost feels as if we ought to pull up a third chair," Castiel said abruptly, "Just in case."
"What?" Did Cas just read his mind? The angel huffed a laugh.
"You were lost in thought," Cas continued, "I only assumed you were thinking of Sam's absence on this case."
"Oh," Dean said, "Yeah, I guess I was. You know me pretty well."
"I try." Castiel only looked a little bit smug.
"It's not that I'm not happy to be here with you," Dean assured the angel, "And I'm sure Sam's glad for a few nights in the library without listening to us do the dirty two rooms down-" Cas had the decency to blush slightly at that thought- "It's just…"
"He usually fills up much of my field of vision," Castiel finished the sentence for him, "Without him there is a lot more empty space."
"Was that a joke?" Dean asked incredulously.
"Yes. I was referring to your brother's above average size," Cas said, considering, "I found it to be humorous." Dean's witty commentary on the angel's comedic abilities was cut short by the return of the waitress with their food. She was distantly friendly, though Dean noticed her eyes flicking over to Cas more than once. A small and jealous part of Dean thought maybe she was checking him out, though she definitely didn't have the usual waitress set of flirting skills.
"It's not very busy, huh?" Dean noted, "Where's the dinner rush?" The waitress seemed momentarily uncomfortable, but smiled again quickly.
"Well it is the off season," she said, "We're a little out of the way to get many dinner visitors. It's usually just guests and you two are the only ones here tonight." Dean noticed that Castiel was staring, and for once not at him. The angel appeared to be trying to read the waitress like a cheap novel, eyes tight with laser focus.
"Lucky us," Dean flirted, kicking the angel under the table, "Looks like we've got the whole place to ourselves, Cas." Castiel jumped, shaking his head like he was waking up from a daydream, and tried to give the waitress a charming smile, which of course made him look like he was in some kind of pain. It was a handy thing Cas was so good lookin', not to mention a total bamf, because his human interactions still left something to be desired. If the waitress noticed Cas' odd behavior she didn't comment, and after a few niceties she left the pair to their dinner.
Cas watched the waitress return to the kitchen with a bizarre fascination.
"See something you like?" Dean asked him pointedly. The angel broke his stare to give Dean a dry glance before answering.
"That server's mind," Castiel informed him, "It's unusually placid."
"You mean like peaceful?" Dean inquired, curious at Cas' observation.
"Perhaps," Cas agreed, "Usually emotions are strong enough in a human that I can glean at least their disposition without reaching too far into their thoughts. However I received no information from her."
"Brings a whole new meaning to 'mind blank', huh?" Dean quipped, chuckling at his own joke. Castiel was less amused.
"I'll assume that was some kind of pun," he said, looking towards the kitchen again.
"Well do you think it's our kind of thing?" Dean asked. Castiel tilted his head, pursing his lips uncertainly.
"There appears to be nothing…malevolent about her," Cas said at last, "I will try to be more careful in my observations as the evening continues."
Dean nodded, digging into his platter as Cas sipped on his soda, playing the human role just enough. The tacos were good, though Dean was more focused on his angel than what he was eating. Dean didn't take it lightly when Castiel mentioned something that was bothering him. He was a man of few words, Cas, so if he brought it up it meant Dean should pay attention. Castiel already seemed relaxed again though, no trace of his suspicion from just moments ago. That seemed a bit weird to Dean; once Cas was in vigilance mode it usually took a while for him to loosen up again. Castiel looked at him as if to ask "What?" and Dean just shrugged, working his way through the hot rice and beans on his plate. If Cas said everything was good then Dean believed him. It's not like there were many things out there that would take on an angel without thinking twice.
Dean offered Castiel one of his tacos, which he politely declined. He did ask for a refill on his soda when the waitress came around to check on them, though Dean thought that was more of an attempt to examine her mind again than any real thirst on Cas' part. Fortunately Cas didn't discover anything sinister beneath the waitress's friendly exterior and Dean wrote her off as just content. Dean ate at a soldier's pace, and in a few minutes his plate was mostly cleaned, which Castiel had watched with his usual morbid fascination. The dining room remained empty, so Dean didn't feel the need to rush out that he sometimes did in more crowded restaurants. Instead he reclined in the slightly awkward wicker seat, elbows propped as he examined the angel that he had lately begun to think of as his. Cas was tracing patterns in the condensation on his glass, nothing special just the unconscious movement of his index finger and thumb across the cool surface but it had Dean a little mesmerized. He knew what those hands felt like against his skin, and it'd been a while now since he and Cas started up this thing they're in, but sometimes for Dean it was still a little surreal.
"You have good hands," Dean commented absently, drawing one of Castiel's limber mitts into his own, tracing the knuckles with his thumb. "Big and strong. They're good…y'know, for smiting."
"And for touching," Cas added, blue eyes soft as he covered their joined hands with his wide palm, enclosing Dean's fingers in a warm and sheltering grip. Dean brushed his fingers against the soft skin of Castiel's wrist, nodding. He still got a bit of a rush from touching Cas in public. They weren't big on PDA, him and Cas. Dean had a feeling even Sam hadn't seen much more than the occasional brush of fingers or a casual arm thrown across the back of a chair. Of course Castiel was a demon in the sack, no pun intended, so Dean didn't mind keeping it cool outside the bedroom if that was how the angel liked it. But it was nice, even in an empty restaurant, to make this little claim on each other. Dean laughed despite himself, squeezing Castiel's hand.
"You know what they say about big hands," Dean quipped with a lewd wink, dispersing some of the tension of the moment.
"No, I don't, but I assume the answer is an innuendo," Cas said plainly, his eyes tracing contours of Dean's face. Dean grinned as the angel's pulse fluttered under his fingertips.
"You wanna head upstairs?" Dean asked, Castiel looking away with a secret smile.
"I think that would be a good idea," Cas answered him, hand flexing in Dean's grip as the angel's eyes twinkled. Christ almighty, Dean hoped nobody ever found out he had thought the word twinkled. Castiel vanished with the sound of fluttering wings, only to reappear before Dean had time to be startled.
"I'm betting our bill is all taken care of," Dean guessed, going by the preening Cas always did when he showed off his angel mojo.
"Yes," Cas agreed, "We left a very generous gratuity. Shall we?"
"Yeah," Dean said, standing, "I wanna see if Sam's sent us that research for the case yet. And…you know…other stuff." Castiel nodded with a half smile and they made their way to their room. Dean figured if Cas brushed their hands together, well it was just 'cause the hallway was a little narrow.