tracy_loo_who | Fic: And I Will Walk On Water (7/18)

Might not be online much in the next few days, since I'm leaving soon and will be at

ibroketuesday's house later today, wheeee! And then Vancouver con! \o/ Will tweet if possible, but it's unlikely since my phone doesn't work in Toronto, so I don't have high hopes for Vancouver, either.

Title: And I Will Walk On Water (7/18)
Characters: Dean and Castiel, Sam, Bobby, Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~6,600
Notes: There is a coffee scene in here that was totally

strangeandcharm's idea. XD
Summary: Lucifer and Castiel have a pissing contest in Dean's head, and Dean gets an angel drunk.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Dean was standing on the edge of a cliff, and from this far up, the city below looked deceptively unlike Hell. Buildings stood tall and proud, their lights bright and steady while traffic bustled around them from thousands of people driving thousands of cars to where they needed to be, each with their own lives and their own agendas. It didn't look like a city in which hundreds of demons were shedding the blood and tears of innocents and tearing families apart in shadowed corners, but Dean knew better. He knew they were there even though he couldn't see them in the blackness of the night, and he knew people were suffering even though he couldn't hear their cries.

"I can still hear their prayers," a smooth voice said behind him, and Dean started, whirling around to see who it was even though he already knew. Even if he might have eventually been able to forget Lucifer's voice, Dean would never mistake the chill it sent through his body for anything else. Lucifer stood a few feet away wearing the same vessel Dean had seen him in last time, but his gaze was sharper than Dean remembered because no memory could reproduce their terrifying intensity. Lucifer went on calmly, "You can't hear them, but so many are praying to God right in this very instant."

It was as if he knew exactly what Dean had been thinking, but then again, that was probably true. "This is a dream, isn't it?" he asked suspiciously, trying to push down his instinct to back away because the edge of the cliff was behind him. Dean was terrified of heights in his sleep, too.

"Yes," Lucifer conceded. "But the city is real. The people are real. And their prayers are real."

"Why are you telling me this?" Dean asked warily, feeling alone and exposed like this with Lucifer in his head and no Sam or Castiel by his side.

"Because you can save them," Lucifer replied as if this was obvious. "Remember my offer?"

Dean gritted his teeth. He'd been waiting for this with a certain sense of dread for a couple of weeks now, although he was no more prepared to deal with the consequences now than he had been the last time they'd spoken. He decided it probably didn't matter. "You can take your offer and shove it--"

The ground beneath Dean's feet crumbled suddenly, and he pitched backwards with a yell of alarm. There was nothing there to catch him, and his alarmed yell turned into a panicked scream as he fell through empty air, away from the cliff and hurtling down toward the lights below. It didn't matter that this was a dream, because it felt too real -- everything from the sickening weightlessness in his stomach to the wind stinging his skin and drowning out even the sound of his own scream as it whipped around him -- and Dean was too far gone in his sheer, paralyzing terror to remember logic.

He might have screamed for Castiel, or it might have been just a wordless scream, Dean had no idea, but a moment later he was no longer falling but already on the ground, standing on his own two feet, intact and unhurt. There was a moment of blind shock before it registered, and then Dean's relief was so great he might have collapsed to his knees with a grateful sob if a strong hand hadn't gripped him by the arm to keep him upright. Dean turned his head to see Castiel beside him, and his relief doubled at the familiar sight of the angel in his stupid trench coat because his first thought was, I'm saved.

But Castiel shook his head slightly, and then Lucifer was there again, in front of them and eyeing them with amusement. Dean unconsciously leaned into Castiel's touch, pressing closer. "Nice trick, Castiel," Lucifer said, drawing out Castiel's name on his tongue like he was savoring it, "but what will you do now that you've lost the element of surprise?"

Castiel stared him down without even the slightest flicker of fear, and that reassured Dean even though he knew Castiel wouldn't stand a chance against the devil. He just hoped Lucifer couldn't hurt Castiel since they were inside his head. "Get out of his head, Lucifer," Castiel ordered, voice deeper than usual and impressively threatening.

"Hmm," Lucifer said thoughtfully, and paused to pretend to consider it. Then he smirked, playfully. "Nah." The empty landscape Castiel had conjured for Dean suddenly turned red and hot, and hundreds of souls chained to hundreds of racks screamed in agony. The smell of blood was overpowering, but the memories of Hell even moreso.

"Dean," Castiel said urgently when Dean's mouth went dry and he began to tremble, "I can't override what he chooses to make you see again, but you must remember it's not real."

Dean couldn't remember it, though, because this wasn't like the times he'd dreamed of Hell before. Now, all five of his senses were telling him with excruciating clarity that it was real, and that he was back in Hell, and only Castiel tightening his grip on Dean's arm kept him from panicking again, but only barely. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the pleading screams around him and focus only on Castiel's voice in his ear, telling him over and over again that it wasn't real, but it wasn't working, it was all too much, and then Lucifer murmured in his other ear, "You can save them, Dean. You can stop this."

And he whispered brokenly, "How?"

"By joining me, of course," Lucifer replied, his voice full of hope and the promise of good things.

Dean only hesitated because a child nearby gave a particularly bloodcurdling scream that made his eyes prickle in sympathy, but then Castiel's fingers dug almost painfully into his arm and he spat, "No."

Hell disappeared, and Dean gasped awake in his bed, soaked in a cold sweat. It was dark but his eyes immediately found Castiel, sitting on the edge of his bed but not touching him, and then Dean looked beyond him to see Sam in the other bed, still asleep. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, feeling weak with relief and trying to calm himself, and then whispered, "Thanks."

Castiel didn't reply, but he didn't leave, either, and after a minute or two, when Dean's heart rate had eased, he opened his eyes again, trying to get them to adjust to the dark. When they did, he could see the faint lines of worry on Castiel's face as he stared down at him, and Dean gave him a small, crooked smile. It was easy to be distracted from Lucifer's dream and lulled into a perhaps false sense of security now that all was quiet and Castiel sat watching over him, and Dean quipped, "Read me a bedtime story?"

Castiel sighed a little, but he looked less worried, and that was good enough for Dean. "Go back to sleep, Dean," Castiel said softly, and Dean tensed because that was the last thing he wanted to do, but then he relaxed again when he saw Castiel bring two fingers toward his forehead. It was a mark of how frayed he was feeling that he was actually grateful for the mind-whammy, and Dean slipped into a much more peaceful sleep this time.

***

When Dean and Sam walked into the diner across the street the next morning, Castiel was already there, sitting alone in a booth and studying his hands, which were folded on the table. "Hey, Cas," Dean said with an easy smile as he and Sam slid into the seat across from him.

Castiel glanced up and asked, without preamble, "Are you okay?"

Dean sighed. He'd been hoping to get a cup of coffee in him before having this discussion, but apparently that wasn't going to happen because Sam's eyes darted between him and Castiel and he asked, "What's going on?"

"I'm fine," Dean told both of them, throwing a brief glare in Castiel's direction.

But before he could say more, the waitress came over to take their order and he got distracted for a moment by her generous bosom. Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean saw Sam roll his, but Castiel only stared thoughtfully at him. He ignored them both and gave the waitress a charming smile as he ordered his coffee, strong and black. Sam ordered something girly, probably with whipped cream in it, and when the waitress got to Castiel, he finally took his eyes off of Dean to glance up at her in faint surprise, as if he wasn't used to being asked what he wanted. Which, Dean supposed, only made sense. Castiel may have been spending more time with them lately, but he didn't often accompany them to diners.

Dean was about to order a white chocolate mocha for him, but then Castiel said, "I'll have what he's having," with a nod at Dean. Dean snorted and doubted very much that Castiel would like it, but he didn't get a chance to educate him in the ways of coffee because then the waitress left and Sam returned to staring at him expectantly.

So he told his brother about Lucifer's dream, Castiel intercepting it, and the offer. Sam listened with a frown and asked, "You told him no, right?"

Dean glared, feeling affronted. "Of course I told him no, was that even a question?" He hadn't thought so, but it niggled at him that Sam might have.

"Sorry," Sam replied, glancing away and at least having the decency to look embarrassed.

The waitress came back with their coffees then, and the tension broke because Dean noticed that Sam's did, in fact, have whipped cream on it. He smirked and muttered, "Girl," under his breath as he cupped his hands around his own coffee cup and reveled in the warmth that emanated from it.

"He's not just gonna give up, Dean," Sam said as soon as the waitress was out of earshot again.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean replied, sulking a little in his irritation. He knew he should've made them put this off until after his coffee, and now he took a small sip of it to make himself feel better. It was gratuitously bitter and strong, just the way he liked it.

Sam wasn't fazed. "And it sounds like he's getting more impatient. I think we're gonna have to be prepared for more than just a dream next time."

Dean knew he was right, but he asked, a touch snidely, "And how do you propose we do that?" He was looking at Sam, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel sip experimentally at his coffee and grimace. Dean could have told him he'd hate it, poor bastard. He automatically peeled opened a cup of creamer, poured it into Castiel's coffee, and gave it a couple of stirs.

Sam's eyes tracked his movements distractedly but he shrugged and said, "Maybe we should go to Bobby's and lie low for a bit? Figure out where to go from there."

It had been Dean's first thought too, to be honest, but this was Lucifer they were talking about. Bobby would take offense at being treated like a stranger, but still, Dean couldn't help but be uncomfortable with the idea of drawing the devil to his doorstep. While he turned the thought over in his head a few more times, he saw Castiel take another sip of his coffee. It didn't get a grimace this time, but Castiel was still frowning down at it, and Dean sighed. "I dunno, Sam, even Bobby might not be able to help us this time." He tore open two packets of sugar at the same time and reached across the table to dump them in Castiel's coffee as he talked. Then he stirred it again and continued, "I mean, I doubt the panic room can keep Lucifer out, so what happens when he comes knocking?"

"It's not like we'd be better off anywhere else," Sam pointed out, sitting back with his lips pursed and running a frustrated hand through his hair. "He might have something useful in his library, who knows? It's worth a shot, and anyway I'm not seeing a whole lot of other options here, Dean."

It was as good an argument as any, Dean supposed, and when Castiel took a third sip of his coffee and finally seemed satisfied with it, Dean nodded reluctantly and took a long drink from his own cup. "Fine," he agreed, "but I'd rather not stay longer than we have to."

None of them had any idea how long that would turn out to be, though, so all three of them drank their coffees in relative silence, until Dean made an appreciative comment about the waitress's backside and Sam blew whipped cream at him through a straw. Then there was a small scuffle, which made Castiel sigh and drink more coffee. Apart from that, though, he seemed content to stare thoughtfully either at Dean or at the coffee.

***

"You brought an angel with you this time?" Bobby asked gruffly as he opened his door some hours later. Sam and Dean passed him on their way in, and Castiel brought up the rear. Bobby glared at him as he came through the doorway, and Castiel looked faintly awkward as he stared back.

Dean watched them with some amusement and remembered that the last time they'd met, Castiel had spared Bobby only a briefly annoyed look before putting him to sleep and out of the way within seconds. "Go easy on him, Bobby," he chuckled. "He's a delicate angel." The comment earned him a glare from Castiel, but he only winked in response.

"So," Bobby said, leading them to the kitchen to grab some beers, "You boys gonna fill me in or what?" He took four beers out of the refrigerator, but Castiel declined politely with a shake of his head, so Bobby shrugged and put one back in.

While Dean and Sam talked (or, rather, while Dean talked and Sam occasionally interjected with phrases like "blah blah blah" that Dean knew were meant to convey concern for him), Castiel wandered off by himself. Bobby watched him closely until he was out of sight but didn't comment.

Later, Dean found Castiel in the library, surrounded by open books. He snorted softly and said, "So it's gonna be all three of you nerds against me, eh? I see how it is."

Castiel looked up and tilted his head and said, quite earnestly, "I'm on your side."

Even though he'd missed the point entirely, the sentiment was at least a little bit endearing, and it made Dean smirk. "I was just teasing, Cas. What're you up to?"

Castiel's gaze swept over a few of the yellowed, crinkled pages in front of him and he replied, "I was able to study Lucifer more closely last night, and I think I may be able to devise a script to keep him out of this house."

Dean couldn't deny feeling a rush of hope at his words, but he was also skeptical. "You're going to make something up?"

He got quite the condescending look, and Dean was suddenly reminded of Sam. He had to try not to smile. "I'm going to arrange aspects of various scripts known to be effective against angels or demons into a design that I hope will prove impenetrable to Lucifer's Grace," Castiel explained, a bit stuffily.

"Huh." It sounded pretty impressive to Dean, even if it was stuffy. "You can do that?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed slightly and he pointed out with a hint of peevishness, "Fighting is not my strength."

Dean laughed and raised his hands briefly to let Castiel know he'd won. "Okay, Cas, I believe you." And it was true, too, he realized. If Castiel said he could do it, well, Dean had no reason to doubt him.

"I believe it will also be effective against Zachariah and the other angels," Castiel continued, sounding about as pleased with himself as he ever managed to sound.

At first Dean was about to nod in grateful approval, but then something occurred to him and made him pause. "What about you, then?"

"I shouldn't be able to penetrate it either," Castiel confirmed. "It will serve as a good test."

Dean didn't like the sound of that, and he frowned and asked, "So what are you gonna do while the rest of us sit in here, all cozy and safe?"

Castiel hesitated, like he hadn't thought that far ahead yet, and some of his old uncertainty came back as he asked, "What should I do?"

Dean sighed and shook his head slightly. And here he'd been hoping they'd gotten over this particular hurdle. "Not your God replacement, remember?" he reminded him. "I don't know what you should do, Cas, but it seems unfair for you to turn this house into a safe haven for us and then leave yourself out, don't you think?"

Castiel seemed to recover from his moment of uncertainty because he said, quite assuredly, "You deserve to have a safe haven."

"I do, do I?" Dean arched his eyebrows, not believing him for a moment. He nodded a couple of times and pursed his lips, saying, "Tell me something, then. What do you deserve?"

Now Castiel looked more confused than ever, and he frowned intently at Dean. "I'm an angel," he said slowly, as if this ought to be a satisfactory answer.

"So?" Dean prompted when he didn't continue.

Castiel's eyes narrowed in thought. "I deserve your respect," he said finally.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because you dragged me out of Hell and you can throw me back in, right?" The memory of his threat made Castiel look incredibly uncomfortable, and Dean softened his tone a little as he said, "Look, Cas, that's not what I meant. What I'm trying to get at is, I don't see how you can say I deserve nice things but you don't."

Castiel tilted his head. "You're my charge, Dean."

"Your charge?" Dean echoed, and was actually a little stung. He hadn't thought Castiel considered him a duty for some time now, what with the beer and the chocolates and the hug and everything else. "And here I thought we were friends," he said, with only a tiny hint of bitterness.

"We are," Castiel assured him, "but I'm an angel." Again, he seemed to think this was all the explanation needed.

Dean snorted and repeated, "So?"

"So it's not my place to deserve 'nice things', as you say," Castiel explained as if this was obvious. "I don't need them. It is enough if you can have them."

Dean shook his head incredulously. This shit was beginning to give him a headache. "If this is how God wants you to think, I don't blame Lucifer for falling," he muttered.

Castiel's expression hardened, and so did his voice. "You're siding with Lucifer?"

"No, you ass," Dean snapped with a roll of his eyes. "I'm just saying he had a point, is all. What with the whole 'not wanting to spend his entire existence in endless servitude' thing."

"Being a good servant to God is an admirable thing," Castiel insisted.

"I thought you said God was done with you."

Castiel hesitated and said haltingly, "Perhaps not. Fortune has been kind to me lately."

Dean kind of wanted to smack him and tell him that no, it was Dean who had been trying so hard to be kind to him lately, but that sounded far too self-absorbed and like he was fishing for thanks, which wasn't the case at all. So what he said instead was, "Fortune didn't give you chocolate, Cas. And don't you dare say God made me do it, because He didn't." Castiel's eyes widened a fraction before he dropped his gaze to stare down at a page in one of the books, though he obviously wasn't focusing on it. He didn't give any indication that he was going to say anything, so Dean sighed in frustration and continued, "Look, Cas, you clearly do have needs." Castiel gave a small, embarrassed frown, and Dean knew he was thinking of the hug. "But it's okay to. And you might as well indulge them, since you can."

For awhile Castiel simply continued to frown intently at the book, but then he looked up and said, "Then let me do this. I need to keep you safe."

Dean gave up. He was done with this conversation, his patience had run out and so had his words, and he wasn't going to change Castiel's mind. "Whatever," he muttered, ignoring the way Castiel's expression fell a notch and turning to leave him to whatever the hell it was he wanted to do. What irked him most was actually that he could understand exactly where Castiel was coming from, because if it had been Sam, Dean would be doing the same thing right now. The thought that he could be Castiel's Sam scared him, though, so he pushed it away and went to see what his brother and Bobby were up to.

***

"Your angel is turning my house into an art project," Bobby growled at him a few hours later. Sam looked up curiously.

Dean wasn't surprised Castiel had decided to go through with it, and he sighed, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. "He says it'll keep Lucifer out," he said, not even bothering to try to convince Bobby that Castiel wasn't 'his angel'.

It seemed to appease the old man, and he said, "Well, I hope it works, boy," before heading to his desk.

Dean was about to turn back to his own research, but he'd been staring at books for hours now and hadn't found a damned thing that might be useful. He also figured that since Castiel wouldn't be able to come back in when he was done, it would be ungrateful and unfair of himself to stay here and just leave Castiel out there by himself. "You got anything out back you want me to work on, Bobby?" he asked as he stood up.

Bobby shrugged and replied, "There's an old Ford with a waterlogged engine near the shed. It's blue." That was good enough for Dean, and he nodded and headed out.

Castiel was probably working on the front of the house, since Dean didn't see him and the back of the house was already covered in strange symbols. Dean studied them for a moment, but then shook his head to himself and went to fetch the tools he'd need.

An hour later, Dean looked up from his work at the sound of a rustle behind him. He turned to see Castiel standing there, and Castiel said, "I deserve a beer." He didn't smile, but Dean did, a little bit.

"Thought you hated beer," he pointed out. "You didn't want one from Bobby earlier."

Castiel's eyes flickered downward for a moment and he bit his lip before confessing, "I like it better when you give it to me," which Dean figured was about as close as he would come to admitting he wanted a friend. All of Dean's residual irritation from earlier melted away.

His smile widened. "Nah. We're gonna fill you up with the hard stuff this time." Then Dean realized how that sounded, and because Castiel was an angel, he was embarrassed enough to add hastily, "There's a bar not too far from here. We can walk." It was getting dark anyway, and people would start trickling in soon.

Castiel's head tilted and his expression turned dubious. "You're going to get me drunk?" he asked uncertainly.

Dean's face split into an all-out grin. "Yeah, Cas. I'm gonna get you drunk."

***

There were more people at the bar than Dean had been expecting, but then he remembered that it was a Saturday night. At first he was a little concerned because Castiel seemed out of his element and kind of nervous about people pressing in so close to him and even eyeing him up, in a few cases, so Dean took him to a booth. He sat beside Castiel instead of just across from him because this way Dean was between him and the rest of the bar's patrons, and Castiel relaxed visibly. He relaxed even more after a shot of vodka and tequila each, even though he'd pulled unpleasant faces as they'd gone down. (Dean had tried to get him to down the shots like shots were meant to be downed, but to no avail; Castiel had drunk them slowly, like he'd wanted to taste them.)

"Maybe you'll like rum better," Dean told him brightly. Castiel looked very much like he doubted it, but Dean went and fetched them shots of rum anyway.

True to his suspicions, Castiel grimaced as he drank his rum. "I don't understand why you consider this an enjoyable pastime, Dean," he said, his cadence already a little slower than normal.

Dean smirked and downed his own shot. "Come on, Cas, it's rum. Everybody loves rum. Why is the rum gone?" he asked, doing his best Captain Jack Sparrow impression.

Poor angel probably thought he was mad. "Because we drank it," he said, sounding puzzled. And tipsy.

"No, I mean." Dean waved vaguely. "Man, I'm gonna have to introduce you to movies next, I think. James Bond! You have to watch the Bond movies, Cas." Then it occurred to him that Castiel couldn't even enter the house, and he frowned a little. But no matter, surely Bobby wouldn't mind if they dragged his TV outside?

"I would rather watch you," Castiel said seriously. Dean arched his eyebrows, and Castiel added helpfully by way of explanation, "Alcohol blocks receptors for various neurotransmitters in the brain and lowers inhibitions." Dean snorted and left to get them whiskey.

He slid Castiel's shot in front of him when he got back and asked, "So, what other repressed angelic urges are you hiding from me?"

Castiel picked up his shot of whiskey and seemed to think very deep thoughts as he stared at it. "I think I would like to try chocolate ice cream sometime," he confessed finally.

Dean laughed and clinked his glass against Castiel's, saying, "Now there's something worth toasting to." After they both finished their shots, he added, "There's a twenty-four hour convenience store on our way back, we can stop there and get some."

After a pause, Castiel said, "Let's do it tomorrow." For a moment Dean was about to be pleased because he thought it must be a good sign that Castiel was counting on there being a tomorrow when he'd seemed so unsure about it before, but then Castiel added, "It's more fun when the sun is out to make it melt, because you always try so hard not to make a mess but you never succeed."

Dean glared. "Do you actually want the damned ice cream or do you just want to point and laugh?"

Castiel seemed to consider this, and then he pointed imperiously at Dean, but with a smile. It was a strange combination, and pretty ridiculous, but Dean had to admit he was impressed it could even be done. Castiel shook his head and lowered his hand back to the table, saying, "No pointing and laughing, the ice cream will suffice."

Dean snorted in amusement. "You are really something else, you know that, Cas?"

"I am an angel," Castiel replied, and from anyone else it would be feigned innocence, but from Castiel, well. It was true. (Obviously.)

"A weird one."

Castiel narrowed his eyes and said, "You are a weird human."

"Nah, just unusually good-looking," Dean smirked.

"It's true," Castiel nodded in earnest agreement. "Your soul is the most beautiful I've seen."

Dean coughed. "Cas," he said, pained. "Don't say stuff like that in public. In fact, don't say stuff like that at all."

"But it's true," Castiel insisted, eyes wide. "Your soul--"

"Cas!" Dean hissed, because an absolutely lovely redhead had caught his eye and was coming over from the bar and the last thing Dean wanted was to have her overhear Castiel composing odes to his soul. Castiel thankfully shut up, and Dean turned to give the girl his most charming smile as he said, "Hi there."

When she smiled, it was slow and sultry, to match her voice. "Buy you a drink?"

If he'd come here with Sam, Dean would have ditched him in a heartbeat, because even with his devastating good looks it wasn't every day that such a foxy lady approached him and offered to buy him a drink. But he hesitated because he didn't know how Castiel would react to being left alone, and he glanced over at his companion.

Castiel's eyes slid from Dean to the girl and then back to Dean, and he smiled a little, which Dean assumed meant he was alright with it even if the smile hadn't reached his eyes. "I'll be back," he promised, and got up to follow the redhead back to the bar.

He angled himself so that he could keep a loose eye on Castiel while he chatted up -- he was mostly sure her name began with a 'K', anyway -- but after a few minutes he stopped worrying about Castiel because he felt silly doing it. Castiel could level the whole bar if he wanted to, drunk as he was, he didn't need Dean to keep an eye on him. And anyway, he seemed content to people-watch for now, which was what Dean suspected he did with most of his time anyway. Actually, he suspected Castiel spent most of his time Dean-watching, but he shook the thought from his head and tried to pay attention to what probably-K-something was saying.

The next time he happened to glance over at Castiel, though, Castiel wasn't alone anymore. A slim blonde had taken Dean's spot next to him in the booth, and she was obviously trying to chat him up. Dean had had a couple more drinks by that point, and his eyes narrowed automatically at the back of the girl's head, when in any other situation he would've been trying to look lower. He even forgot to be interested in the sultry redhead as he concentrated on trying to see if the girl was making Castiel uncomfortable, but she kept her distance and Castiel merely looked awkward, which Dean supposed was to be expected. The only human Dean had ever seen Castiel talk to other than himself and Sam had been that waitress this morning, and the extent of that conversation had been ordering some coffee, so it was hardly surprising that Castiel might be awkward about being hit on.

Dean resumed watching him more closely now, and wondered what he would do. Castiel was obviously starting to get over his hangups regarding being touched, if their hug was anything to go by, so maybe he was ready for more, now. Dean realized suddenly with an unpleasant shock that while he'd been all about Castiel getting himself and Jimmy laid before, the thought of it now -- of this hot young blonde putting her hands and mouth and other body parts all over Castiel -- well, it didn't sit so well with Dean anymore. It was utterly selfish and even more stupid, but somehow, at some point, Dean had begun to think of Castiel as his angel (even Bobby had said so, earlier). He was the one who'd held him and stroked his back and showed him that being touched could be a good thing, and obviously Dean didn't want to show him the glories of having orgasms, but suddenly he didn't want this random girl to show Castiel, either. He didn't want Castiel to let her in and lay himself bare and moaning before her, but mostly Dean just didn't want her to have Castiel. It was so stupid, and petty, and selfish, and a hundred other things Dean hated about himself, but he couldn't help it and the alcohol only amplified those feelings. Still, he gritted his teeth and stayed where he was, determined not to cockblock Castiel (and Jimmy too, he assumed) if they were actually interested.

Castiel wasn't interested, though, as it turned out, because when the girl scooted closer to him, he backed up until he was pressed against the wall and began looking legitimately uncomfortable, and like he was holding himself back from accidentally hurting her. It was all Dean needed, and he was relieved that the tiny part of him that was gratified that Castiel didn't want her couldn't hold a candle against the rest of him, which felt only protective concern, mostly for Castiel but also for the girl, too, because she had no idea how close she was to someone who could kill her in a heartbeat if she startled him too much. Dean made his lame excuses to the redhead and went back over to their table. "Cas, let's go," he said firmly, holding his hand out to him.

Castiel looked up at Dean with something like relief and gratitude and took his hand without hesitation, which forced the blonde to slide out of the booth with a glare and get out of his way. Now that Dean could see her face, he saw that she was actually quite attractive, but it didn't stop him from glaring back as Castiel slid out after her and came to stand next to him. Dean led him through the crowd by the hand, knowing what it must look like to everyone else but not caring because the strength of Castiel's grip told him everything he needed to know about how uncomfortable Castiel had been. Besides, he was used to it, what with years spent checking into seedy motels with Sam at his side and all.

He didn't let go of Castiel's hand until they were outside in the cool night air and walking back toward Bobby's house, and then Dean said, "Sorry about that." What he'd hoped would be a fun night out on the town had turned into something Castiel had probably hated, and it was Dean's fault.

Castiel shook his head, but he looked subdued as he walked next to Dean. "No, I should have left you to your female," he said.

Dean snorted a bit. Maybe he still didn't know what probably-K-something's actual name was, but Castiel made it sound like he'd interrupted their mating ritual or something. "Cas, we were just chatting, it's not like I was actually angling to take her home tonight, you know that, right?" He didn't mention that a quickie in the bathroom had crossed his mind more than a couple of times. "I wasn't gonna ditch you on your first night out."

Castiel glanced over at him with a small frown and said, "You shouldn't limit your own enjoyment on my account, Dean."

"Cas," Dean chided with a roll of his eyes. "It's not like that. I came out to get drinks with you, I didn't come out to chase tail. She was just a temporary bonus."

"Still--"

"Also," Dean said, a little louder now, "you deserve better than that."

Castiel looked dubious, but he fell silent beside Dean, a look of puzzled concentration on his face as he stared at the sidewalk. Dean couldn't tell if he was trying to walk straight or come to terms with the idea that he deserved things or both, but he didn't ask.

"Sure you don't want that chocolate ice cream now?" Dean asked as they passed the convenience store. "We can always come back tomorrow so you can watch me make a mess."

Castiel finally looked up and cracked a smile, and Dean relaxed and smiled back. "It's enough that you're here," Castiel said quietly.

Dean glanced away quickly, suddenly too embarrassed to look Castiel in the eye, because this was exactly why he'd suddenly become so inappropriately possessive, probably, because Castiel went and said stupid shit like this that made Dean feel like maybe he could actually be that important to someone. Like someone could want him around for no other reason than because they liked being in his presence. Like someone might actually choose him over all the better things in this world, like romances and schools and normal lives. Castiel had given him a taste of that, and now that Dean could recognize it, he began to worry that he wouldn't be able to let it go. Or that he would have to.

They didn't say anything more until they reached Bobby's house, and Castiel stopped as Dean stepped up onto the porch and said, "Sleep well, Dean."

"Wait." Dean turned around and remembered that Castiel couldn't come into the house, and frowned. "You can come up here, at least, right?" he asked.

Castiel nodded but didn't make any move to do so.

For some reason he couldn't quite put a finger on himself, Dean wasn't quite ready to go in yet, so he sat on the porch and leaned his back against the house. "Sit with me for a bit?"

Without a word, Castiel came to sit beside him, their shoulders not quite touching but close enough.

"So," Dean couldn't resist saying after awhile, with a slight quirk of his lips, "Miss Blondie not your type, eh?"

Castiel snorted softly. "I told you, I'm not interested in sex."

"You said you weren't interested in physical intimacy." Buzzed as he was, Dean still remembered that quite well.

Castiel leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, looking weary enough to make Dean regret bringing it up. But there was something so unguarded about this moment, too, in the way Castiel's throat was exposed, in the way he finally gave those ever-vigilant eyes a chance to rest, in the way his shoulders were relaxed and still. Dean couldn't help but revel in being able to see all this when the Castiel everyone else saw was always so carefully composed and occasionally even terrifying, and he was especially glad Miss Blondie wasn't here trying to get her paws all over him. Castiel wasn't meant to be touched. Except then he said, "The hug was nice."

"Girl," Dean returned softly, more out of embarrassment than a wish to tease.

It made Castiel smile faintly, and he turned his head and opened his eyes to look at Dean as he said, "I've seen you have a fair share of what I believe you might call 'chick flick moments', Dean."

Dean looked away, feeling his cheeks warm. "Shut up," he said gruffly. "And get your vision checked."

Castiel huffed in amusement and even though his tone betrayed nothing, Dean knew he was doing it on purpose when he said, "Even a blind angel could see the beauty of your soul."

Dean groaned and threw his head back against the wall with a soft thud. "You're fired," he declared. "Forever. I'm leaving."

"Okay," Castiel replied, sounding annoyingly unfazed.

Bastard must have known Dean was too comfortable and pleasantly drowsy to have any intention of moving, and after a few minutes, right before the heaviness of boozed-up sleep settled in completely, he even shifted so that he was leaning against Castiel's warm side, with his head lolling on Castiel's shoulder. "I'm going to kill you if you tell anyone about this," he mumbled in his most threatening voice, which was probably about as threatening as -- well, Dean didn't really want to come up with any embarrassing similes here, actually. Besides, he was drunk.

But in any case, Castiel didn't seem overly concerned about his safety when he repeated, "Okay."

Dean nodded, satisfied, and let himself drift off.

Part 8