Archive of Our Own ^beta

It comes out of the blue one day. They've just arrived back to the bunker after yet another case, one Claire had the common sense to call them on. "Just because Sam's the best at research I know," her words, and she's smart enough by now to realize that you don't half-hassle hunting. They had to swear that they won't tell Jody, of course, and since everything's gone smoothly, they won't. Unless they have to prove to her (honestly, their) adoptive mom that yes, Claire is finally developing wisdom in her choices.

Dean is already anticipating a shower and then finding again his memory foam mattress, when Sam says, "I keep expecting you to book us two rooms, and you never do – you know it's okay now, don't you?"

It stops Dean in his tracks, a vaguely sick feeling in his stomach. Sure, they have their own rooms at the bunker, and nobody was more thrilled than him with the opportunity to nest, and spread his wings a little, and he has to stop the birds comparison, he's not a fucking quail.

But they've shared a room on the road for...it must be upwards of two decades, now. Dean in the bed by the door, since they've outgrown the chance of sharing one (not-Charlie-supplied scammed credit cards only lasted so long, they were practical about these things), to make sure anything stupid enough to break in would have to go through him – and his gun – first.

In fact, as happy with their new digs as he was, there's been an adjustment period (not that he'd confess it, not even under duress) where his brain had to figure out that the lack of Sam's soft snoring in the room didn't mean that he had to panic, or let old abandonment issues flare up. And uh, yeah, he knows Cas popped in at least a few times, hopefully only the ones he caught him at it, another presence in the room easing his nightmares. Cas might not be Sam, but he knows the angel, even asleep; knows it means they're safe.

But – what's Sam's problem, exactly? "Why?" he asks, and it is a bit sharper than he meant it to be.

His brother shrugs. "I just thought it'd be easier for you – sleeping with Cas."

Dean walks back to him, actually touching his forehead. Nope, the kid doesn't have a fever to justify his brain being messed up, and shifters download the knowledge of people whose form they steal, so – it wasn't even a shifter's case, but assuming one was loitering around, he still should know better. Then what? He reminds Sam, anyway. "Dude, Cas doesn't sleep."

Now his brother is looking at him as if he's the one who's not making sense. "Ok, yeah, but nothing should stop him from cuddling you through the night. And if I won't join you in the room, you don't have to rush the – not unconscious part of 'sleeping with'." He actually snorts a little laugh, at his own awkwardness.

Oh. Wait, what? Sammy thinks Cas and he are – "We don't!"

"Why the fuck not?" That's not the reaction he expected from Sammy. "I mean, it can't be the angel thing, you had a fling with – Anna, was it? - before she went crazy, so."

"Because Cas isn't like that. He doesn't want -" Why would Sam make him say it? That's just cruel. It's not for lack of trying that they're not involved. Dean's made a few (or more) passes at his favorite angel. Tried his best lines. That went nowhere, so he's contenting himself with as much of the angel's company as he's allowed. It wouldn't do to drive him away, too. Dean...kinda has that effect on people. Can't even blame them.

"He doesn't -" Sam echoes, incredulous, "Seriously Dean, if I didn't know more about your exploits than I ever wanted to, I'd assume you'd never hooked up; that you couldn't have, oblivious as you are."

"Hey! I resent that!" He's not oblivious. Especially not oblivious to when someone is into him. If anyone is, it's Sammy. Fuck, he's used his charm for more than finding a partner for the night; smiled himself into more discounts, little extras and info he technically shouldn't be allowed to know, since he hit puberty, than he can even remember.

"Oh well. If you're so sure about your judgment, you won't mind if I ask Cas on a date, will you?"

What? Since when does Sam even...ok, yes, he was an angel fanboy since way before they were sure they actually existed, but Dean thought actually meeting them had cured his brother of that particular fancy. Cas aside, most of them are winged assholes.Never meet your idols and all that.

"I promise, I'm not going to make him uncomfortable," Sam adds, hands up in a placating gesture. A contemplating look points out that he hasn't given him an answer yet.

There's no way he can say no without admitting he's totally gone on the angel himself, and then Sam will start his awkward attempts at comfort, insist that bottling everything up isn't healthy and that he can...what? Vent about pining? So he nods, perhaps more jerky than he'd like, shrugs, and goes for that shower. Hopefully Sam will have forgotten his plan by the next time Cas comes around. (As if. But hey, one can hope.)

Because fate has it out for Dean, obviously, Cas visits that same evening. He's heard from Claire (apparently they're in surprisingly good terms now) and he wants to know a little more about the case. And ask why nobody bothered to call him until after its end.

"We could deal with it on our own, and well. You do have your own things to deal with, I assume. Besides, sending more cavalry than the kid had requested could put her off doing it again, maybe?" Teenagers are like that. Not that Cas would know a lot about them, but Dean knows something about people being contrarian for the sake of it. There's no need to explain all that, luckily, because Cas nods pensively (which shouldn't be adorable, dammit) and looks around. Checking if everything is fine? Looking for something? Who knows?

Not Dean, who's busy trying not to choke on his pizza slice – after that bomb he didn't feel like cooking, and his brother best not for everyone's sake; sue him – when Sam sees the silence as the opening it is and blurts out, "Cas, do you know what dating is?"

"My vessel was married," the angel points out, snappy. "I do know that courting someone involves joint outings."

He really really should run. To the toilet, maybe? That's, like, a legit excuse unlike locking himself in his room and turning the headphones loud enough he can't ear his own thoughts, much less what's going to happen, no matter how tempting it is. Still, a part of him is stuck there. Like watching a train wreck. Besides, Cas is going to rebuff Sam, and then he might have to handle the fallout, and then –

He's managed to think all this while Sam says, "Sorry, I should have known," with that contrite look of his that nobody can stay mad at, because his brain at the moment feels like a hamster on cocaine, trapped in his wheel..

Then his brother pushes on, "Would you mind, then, going on a date" and that was supposed to be all, but Sam adds, "with Dean?" and he's pretty sure he's stopped breathing and the hamster's dead of a heart attack and he'll follow it in moments.

Cas turns towards him, befuddled, or unreadable, or both, and damn, he's still as stunning as ever, and asks, "Shouldn't the person involved propose?"

Sammy, the little shit, replies, "Actually, historically –"

Dean waves his hand wildly to stop him, "Nobody wants a lesson in the history of matchmaking, you nerd," and it's sharper than he meant to with rising panic, so he smiles at his brother to offset it. Sam shrugs and leaves the room, bringing along a last slice.

But he can't think about his brother because, hey. Cas hasn't actually answered yet, hasn't growled, "No," or, "Are you insane?" Thrown off the deep end is how Dean's learned most of his skills – he'll cope with whatever the result of Sam's fucking stunt is. He swallows down the anxiety and manages not to mumble, "Well, the plan was different," which is honest. The plan was to never ever mention any of this. Still, it doesn't retract Sam's question. Now Cas can let him down and they can all move on and forget this ever happened. But if he doesn't.

"Oh, I see," the angel says, and he's smiling, sun-bright, "I would love to go on a date with you."
Ok, maybe Dean did have a heart attack a minute ago, because he's pretty sure this is his heaven. If anyone tries to revive him, though, he's gonna kick their asses. Might as well run with it, then.

"Uh...tomorrow?" and damn, he's not been this awkward in ages, but he's also not been this invested, so. It's not exactly surprising.

"Sure. Just let me know, whenever you want," and Cas is still grinning and acting as if this is a perfectly normal situation and wait, on second thought maybe he's not dead, maybe they've stumbled on a djinn on the way back from Claire's case, one who's much more skilled than the ones they've met before, and Dean got himself caught. Let's see, maybe if he closes his eyes and wishes really hard... Instead of time skipping ahead, there are suddenly lips on his.

Dean's eyes snap back open, and he gasps in surprise. Yup, it's Cas, and there's a tongue enticing his to play right now, and suddenly reality is just Cas, deep blue eyes meeting his, a taste that...um, electric is probably the wrong word, but – Dean might have found the words if he'd been a school nerd too, or maybe not, it's unlikely that even Shakespeare or whoever went around snogging angels anyway. They're both startled into separating when the kitchen's lights explode, and suddenly Cas looks bashful, and Dean's laughing among literal sparks all over again.

"I'm sorry," the angel mumbles.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna stab you for that."

Dean grins, feeling a little high, but Cas vanishes all the same, with a last "Call me," overshadowed by the flutter of wings.

OK. God, he has a date. With Cas. For all his hook-ups, Dean's track record in the long-term dating game is abysmal, never really bothering to when he was going to be out of town in a month max anyway. But Cas has to stick around. Preferably forever. What if he makes a mess of this? Dammit. He needs an idea. He needs research. Can't really bring him to the movies and snog him in the seat; not with the chance the whole electrical system will be fucked for it, and Cas will disappear in another awkward quiver. In fact, maybe it's best to keep things outside. Less for him to make explode.

If he confiscates his brother's laptop to search for the perfect spot, well. He wouldn't be in this situation if not for Sam. And if somehow he manages to muck this up bad enough that Cas won't want anything to do with him anymore...ok, no, he probably won't, but he'll consider fratricide for at least a good couple hours.

It's not a surprise that he doesn't find anything for a good four hours. He doesn't even know what he's looking for, which never makes things easier. But then he follows a link to something that seems promising, and even if it's so not (the last thing he needs is a ton of other people around, not when they're still trying to find their own footing), there's another link in that website, and then another, and finally he stumbles on something that...is probably the worst date idea ever if you're just trying to score with the average person. But Cas is anything but average, and Dean has a feeling he might enjoy this.

Besides, this isn't really about scoring. This is courting, in the angel's own words, and – oh god, are they gonna get married? No, stop, that's going way too far too soon. He just... he needs sleep. Yeah. He's not going to be charming if he can't catch at least a few hours of shut-eye. He has a plan now (sorta). He'll sleep, even if he needs to knock himself out for it, and tomorrow go on his date, and then. One day at a time.

Dean's awakened by the smell of coffee, and pads quietly into the kitchen. Sam's there, munching on some fruit, like the disgustingly healthy sibling he is. Without the many supernatural confirmations he's had – the fact that they're siblings a major plot point – Dean would have wondered all too often if there was some sort of swap at the hospital.But it's all so normal that...it wouldn't even be the first time he had such a dream, even though usually there's way less Sam and way more...development in them.

"Did you, yesterday –"

"Ask Cas out for you? Yeah." Sam shrugs, as if it's nothing. "It was either that or voodoo. There's only so much unresolved sexual tension a man can witness on the daily before taking drastic measures."

Dean automatically opens his mouth to protest, then snaps it shut. He'll find a way to use this against his brother someday, but – priorities. Coffee, bacon – he's gonna need the energy – getting ready (he needs to look awesome), and then... Cas. Date. Actually. No, he's not going to panic again. He has a plan, dammit. He just needs to follow it, and everything will be just peachy.

He even manages to stick to it, up to the longest and most accurate shower of his life. (Not that Cas is the type to jump someone at the first date..probably... but always best to be prepared.)

Then he's back to trying to tame a whole swarm of meat-eating butterflies he must have accidentally swallowed. It's just a thought that saves him – Cas will wear the usual. At least he hopes, he'd seriously be weirded out if suddenly the angel decided for a full restyling. And it's not like they're going somewhere that's sophisticated anyway. In the end, he's wearing he tightest pair of jeans he owns (keeping one's style doesn't mean not showing off a bit), a green t-shirt that complements his eyes, and his leather jacket (no, it's not a security blanket thing, he just looks dashing in it, okay?).

Another quick preparation and a swift call, to ensure that they won't be turned away from the place because it's fully booked – and that the website isn't outdated or something – and...Well, it's not like he has a time set, but the longer he waits, the longer he has to tell himself all the reasons this is a bad idea, and chickening out is not an option right now. Prayer it is. "Cas, if it's a good time, I'd like to show you a good time," and oh fuck, he didn't mean it like that – ok he absolutely did, but not first thing, it's just his brain has no control on his mouth.

Before he can kick himself over it (probably the angel won't even realize anyway, despite Dean's falling into habitual – sentimentally disastrous – patterns), Cas is in front of him. Dressed as always, too, just a few buttons undone at the top of his shirt, and Dean has to stop staring and salivating, it's just a few inches of skin and this is completely out of line. Whatever they might eventually get to, welcoming your date by lapping at their throat is not good form – or what devout Jimmy Novak would have left behind in his memories for Cas to compare and see how this is going. Even if it's exactly what Dean craves at the moment.

So he bites his lips, says, "Unless you want to do something specific, I kinda had an idea," and at Cas' smiling acquiescence, leads him to the Impala, with a yelled, "We're out!" for his brother. The trip isn't too long, and as ever, driving manages to relax him. Cas asks where they're going, but settles easily when promised a surprise, and doesn't protest when Dean turns his Led Zeppelin tape on. It's just – he's much more a doer than a talker, when it really matters. And if it worked for dad. Maybe.

Soon they're there, and Cas actually looks at him, expectant and a bit confused. Of course "Petting Zoo" doesn't mean a thing to him. But he follows, because Cas will tag along no matter how insane Dean's projects are. Or ill-thought, he realizes, sneezing loudly. Why had he not expected cats here? Instead of being chided like he deserves, suddenly one of Cas' hands is cradling his face, and he thinks for a second he's about to be kissed again, and as much as he'd love to, the timing is so so off, but then Cas' other hand comes to brush against the top of his nose, and he murmurs, "Your allergy has been quenched for the day, sorry I never thought to fix it, but that requires more concentration, so later, if you wish?"
Dean nods dumbly and looks down to the responsible – an orange cat rubbing against his legs. It lets Cas pick it up, purring loudly, and the grin on the angel's face tells him he's chosen right after all.

"Hope your car is locked," one of the place's employees mentions, coming their way.

"Course. Why?" Dean hates the interruption, but if there are dangers for Baby, he has to know.

"That's our best hunter. She's known to leave the clients she likes better some gift to remember her by. Not everyone appreciates half-dead lizards or, in one occasion for the books, a murdered little bird." The man grimaces at the memory.

"Just packing people a little snack for the road. She means well," Cas says, in a soft rumble.

"Anyway, unless she knows how to pick locks too, we're safe," Dean says, and the employee leaves them to their own devices. Dean hesitantly tries to scratch behind her ears – or are these dogs? - and smiles when the purr seems to double. It doesn't take long, though, for her to jump from Cas' arms, a purposeful stride in her paws.

He was right. Cas revels in this place. He wanders from one area to another, chatting up with sheeps and alpacas and chickens and other breeds, hugging anything that will let him, and Dean follows, swallows more than a few giggles, and wonders how he's earned to see this. This unguarded softness. It hits him deep, and the way Cas keeps turning around, involving him in – it should be silly, feel silly, but the only word that really seems to fit is utter adorableness.

He doesn't even care if Cas actually understands any and all creatures, or is just pretending to. A serious conversation with a hen on how hard parenting is? With Cas somehow pointing him out as a model? He tries, and then huffs a laugh, because – it's not like he really has that good a track, mostly he's cared for Sam, and his brother can and will get himself into the most royal messes. But the angel insists, "Don't listen to her, Katy, he's great," sounding all earnest and – he's not going to argue with his angel today.

When they've wandered to their hearts' content, they get back to the car, Cas offering a soft thanks and an almost-casual kiss, as if this is something they do, just...kiss each other, all the time, and Dean has to stop himself from moaning, loud enough for all their new friends to hear. Much later, he'll wonder idly how long it'll take him to stop wondering if he's slipped into an alternate reality of some sort every time it happens.

"I – understand that each person goes home after a date, but." That's Cas, looking at him for guidance in human-related matter, not for the first time.

" Not if the date goes really, really well. Besides, you are home at the bunker. If you want, I mean."

"Let's go home, then."