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The dawn seemed to be delayed by a grim and persistent layer of fog and clouds. After a weird case (weirder even than what they were used to), a long drive and a short night’s rest, Dean had given up quickly and let Sam steer them to the first place selling coffee that they could find. Sam, being Sam, had taken advantage of Dean’s lack of protest and dragged him into a fancy coffee shop.
“Just a coffee, Sam,” had been Dean’s only complaint, but then he sat down into a surprisingly comfortable armchair and just let the world go on a couple of seconds without him. Sam volunteered to get their coffees and breakfast, looking very excited for some reason. Even though the sun wouldn’t come up, the queue seemed an endless line of students and the one or the other smartly dressed woman or man, and Dean had yesterday’s musical numbers stuck in his head on a loop.
His phone vibrated and he tiredly pulled it out of his pocket.
DirectorMarie has mentioned you in a tweet.
Hey @DeanWinchester We recorded the songs. I’m sending you the link. #SPNmusical #lotsofBM
Dean caught himself smiling, reminding himself to check out the link once he was back at the Bunker.
“I’m not even trying to reply to that,” he told the phone with the open twitter app. He had downloaded it to follow some Doctor Sexy news but had no idea how to manage it. He saw some of the other kids from the play comment and he shook his head, amused. This had definitely been one of the weirder, but oddly rewarding cases. Dean looked up, still finding Sam somewhere in the middle of the queue. Dean looked at him for a while, going through an internal conflict but in the end chose to dial Cas’ number before he could change his mind.
“Dean?” Cas’s voice sounded alert, worried and so very, very welcome. Dean slumped slightly in his chair, some of the tension melting out of him. “Dean are you alright?”
“Yes, Cas. Sorry. Just a bit tired. We wrapped up a case yesterday, and it was… I don’t know. Not quite awesome, but it was… Okay. A little bit awesome,” he said, chuckling slightly.
“I don’t think I understand,” Castiel said and Dean tried to listen to the background noises to try to figure out where he might be. He didn’t seem to be driving.
“You remember the books Chuck wrote?”
“The Winchester Gospels, yes of course,” Castiel replied promptly.
“Well, some kids made a school musical based on it,” Dean continued, but was interrupted by Cas:
“That is well deserved, the books were very good, my favorite work produced by a prophet to date.” Dean rolled his eyes and then checked for Sam, who was currently ordering.
“Yeah okay, you like trashy novels.” Castiel huffed. “Anyway, there was a pagan goddess, we took her out. Nobody died – apart from the goddess of course – and the show was a great success.”
“That is good to hear. I had hoped you would give yourself more time to recover, but I see now that you do best when you work and do good,” Castiel said and Dean squirmed slightly at that, uneasy all of a sudden. Trust Cas to say awkward things. “Anyway, was this why you called me?”
“Uh, no. At least not quite. The girls made a joke, putting Adam on stage. My half-brother Adam. And they said… Well, that he’s still in the Cage with Lucifer and I…” Dean took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I was so ashamed, you know? Shocked at first at the absurdity, but then… He’s still our brother and I don’t even dare to ask but-“
“Adam isn’t in the cage,” Castiel told him and Dean held his breath. He heard Castiel sigh deeply. “I didn't manage to pull out Sam’s soul because Lucifer resisted. Michael wasn’t nearly as vindictive.” Dean took a moment to find his voice again.
“So he’s not down there?”
“No. I asked him what he wanted and returned him to his home. His mother too. He is safe. If you’re worried about him, I can go check on him.”
“Don’t you have important angel business to do?” Dean asked and it came out a bit harsher, a bit more disappointed than intended. He wanted to apologize, especially since Cas had just shared such good news with him, but the words felt too heavy on his tongue and before he could Castiel answered:
“No. I am shopping.”
“Shopping.”
“It’s getting closer to winter, Dean. I don’t have my own Grace and it’s uncomfortable. I can feel the cold now.” He sounded so irritated that Dean had to laugh. He looked up and caught Sam grinning at him. He snapped his mouth shut at once because that grin meant trouble. Sam was casually leaning against the counter, waiting for his fancy drinks (and hopefully his normal coffee) to be prepared. The fucker had the audacity to look so damn pleased with himself and Dean didn’t even know why. Sam mouthed “Cas” at him, raising his eyebrow in question and Dean nodded, absently listening to Cas telling him about warm underwear or something. (Wait what? Underwear? Probably something boring, prudish. Nothing for Dean to get worked up over. Just that the thought of Cas and underwear was suddenly so very interesting.)
“Just subtext,” he muttered to himself, watching Sam borrow a pen from a barista and scribbling something on a napkin. Dean frowned.
“What did you say, Dean?”
“Nothing important,” Dean muttered and observed Sam lifting the napkin.
ASK HIM OUT!!!!
Dean could feel his entire face heat up and he fought the urge to jump over the tables and wrestle the napkin out of his grasp. Sam’s display had already drawn some amused looks and Dean sunk down in his armchair, hiding his face with his free hand even though he knew it made him more suspicious.
And Sam was writing again. Hell, why couldn’t the baristas just hurry up and give him his orders?!
FOR DESTIEL!!
“You asshole,” he growled and Castiel snorted into the phone.
“Are you talking to your brother?”
“I am indeed talking to my brother,” Dean said, trying to block him out and focus on the stains on the table before him. “Sorry, Cas.”
“You sound troubled. Are you okay, Dean?”
“Yeah… It’s nothing big,” he said, wincing at the lie. This was enormous. Maybe not as enormous as some other, less pleasant problems he’d had to deal with eventually. But still intimidating.
“Something tells me that is a Winchester understatement,” Castiel replied, the smile audible in his voice. Unbidden, Dean recalled how the girl playing Cas had smiled yesterday. He wished he could put that kind of excited, adoring smile on Cas’ face too. “Is this about the play yesterday? I assure you, Adam is fine.”
“It’s not about Adam…,” he blurted out and now he had started and Sammy was stalling at the counter even though he had his drinks now there was no turning back. This was the moment and Dean felt his hands starting to sweat. “It’s about Destiel.”
“What’s Destiel?”
“That’s… Our couple portmanteau name. Like Brangelina or… I don’t know what else. All the cool kids apparently do it.” There was a moment of silence and Dean already made his peace with the situation not changing. It was subtext, book stuff. Fan stuff. He and Cas were not relationship material.
“Oh, I see. But why are you worried about that?”
“Because I don’t know if it’s real okay? I don’t know what’s going to happen if I ask you out on a date. I don’t know if we can or even should go from Dean and Cas to… DeanCas. Which sounds a lot cooler than CasDean by the way!” The last part was added loudly because Sam was coming towards him, a big grin on his face. Dean was sure that his face was red and not very charming to look at. Dean sighed when Castiel took his sweet time to answer. He wiped his palm over his face, rubbing at his eyes and too warm cheeks. “Sorry, that wasn’t really a good way to do it.”
“Maybe not,” Castiel said but he sounded amused and that was… good? Right? That was good. Sam was still smiling and drawing on his napkins again like an overgrown pre-school kid.
“So… uh… Will you let me take you out on a date?”
“Of course, Dean,” Castiel replied.
“Awesome,” Dean answered, a little breathless and dizzy. “So let’s just meet at the Bunker in two days? I’ll figure something out by then.”
“Good. I’ll see you there, Dean.”
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it,” he said and pulled the phone away from his face when the call was over. “Dude,” he said, too surprised and overwhelmed by how simple it had been to say much more.
Sam was laughing and turned the napkin around.
DEAN AND CAS WINCHESTER surrounded by a big, wobbly heart. Dean kicked Sam’s legs under the table, but then he leant back, grabbed his (mostly normal) coffee and sighed happily. He had a date.
“Though if you’re going to put the sex in subtext please wait until I’m out of the Bunker,” Sam teased and Dean grinned into his coffee, silently vowing to not spare Sam any details about the progression of DeanCas.