#dean is so damn smitten for cas he’d do anything for him

[deancaskiss]

dean overhears cas and jack talking about how certain molecules in specific foods are unpleasant to experience, and dean quickly starts adjusting food he cooks to something cas might like. “how’s it taste?” dean asks a few days later, watching cas’ expression as cas takes another bite of the pasta. “it’s good,” cas replies on instinct. but dean shakes his head, hand reaching out so his fingertips graze against cas’ knuckles. “no, I mean, you know- the molecules. is it- okay? not too unpleasant?” dean stumbles over the words, darting his gaze anywhere except for cas. something in cas’ expression softens as he realizes what dean has done, just for him, and he flips his hand over so that dean’s fingertips trace over his palm. “it’s perfect, thank you, dean,” cas murmurs with a tender smile, and dean swears he’s committing that beautiful smile to his memory for the rest of time

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Smith & Smith

There are a few things everyone knows at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc.

The coffee bagels are inedible, Adler will fake-fire someone on your first day, and you do not hit on Dean Smith, Senior VP.

(Not that Sam wants to - gross. But apparently it's salient information, because it's the third ever text message Gabriel Milton (HR) sends him. Maybe because he'd just joined as Smith's intern, Sam reasons. Well, to hell with stereotypes. Smith is going to be nothing more than a boss - or mentor, if he'd so be willing; Sam's heard of him, and he's kind of a genius after all. That's it.

Plus, Sam's in love with, and engaged to a nurse thankyouverymuch.)

And in any case, it's not like he'd needed a memo.

Smith is obvious enough.

Obvious, with his packed lunches and secretive screensavers. Obvious, in the way he unfailingly redoes his hair before leaving, cause he's "picking Cas up first" - and with his bright smile on Mondays, because "Cas only has Sundays off".

He grins non-stop, the half hour before lunch, and then spends it holed up in his office entirely - and if Sam returns early from his own break, he can't not catch the unicorn laughs emerging from there, glass walls be damned.

Once, in fact, a package got misdelivered, and Sam returned from lunch to a bouquet on his desk, labelled on a recycled paper card with a pickup line so ridiculous - wordplay on 'honey', in fact - that it almost verified the domesticity singlehandedly.

Dean Smith is married.

There can be absolutely no other explanation.

*

As days pass, Sam's workload increases, but he's learning what he's here to learn and is grateful for it.

He also notices him and Dean grow into a friendship of sorts - finding common ground in football, not liking pineapples on pizza, and having a Navy dad - and just like that, mentions of the latter's wife start coming up more casually.

Nothing unprofessional, or overshared - just a, "you know who eats burgers like no one's business? Cas." When he brings Sam a couple of burgers back after an assignment runs late into his lunch break - or even a, "Cas's brothers are dicks," when Sam goes into his office to submit a report from Sales, and finds him, as he rarely does, texting.

As long as Dean isn't dismissive of the work Sam puts in, and he never is, Sam's fine with it. To be honest, it's kind of refreshing to see a guy be a total goner for his wife. And he is - Sam can tell from his heart eyes, if not the fondness that envelopes his voice whenever he speaks of her.

It makes him happy as well, cause he's worked here about five weeks now, and it's enough to see that Dean deserves to be as happy as 'Cas' makes him.

All things considered, Sam's definitely getting used to it.

Until one friday, when Dean shows up at nine am and declares that Cas will be picking him up today.

"There's a strike at the library."

"I see." Sam returns, eyebrows raised.

"Isn't that ridiculous? Libraries going on a strike?" Dean grins. "It's like, you know, a book-march."

Sam fights the whelming urge to bitchface.

"Stop that." Dean swats at the air. Sam hasn't said anything, so he bites his cheek. "You're basically dying to roll your eyes. Friggin' take my jokes for granted." Sam shakes his head, suppressing a smile. "No, seriously. Go on, do it. Didn't stop Cas either."

At that, Sam breaks.

Mirrors Dean's grin from before he'd put on the mock-offended glare, and Dean soon joins in.

"I'll just save my fantastic sense of humor for later."

"For Cas?"

"Nah, someone who can appreciate it -" Dean cuts himself short. "Hell, who am I kidding? Yeah, for Cas."

Sam grins wider.

"I'll be leaving at five today." Dean informs him, before disappearing into his office. Seeing as the office hours are nine to five in the first place, that isn't off the norm, but since Dean finishes late almost regularly, it's probably worth pointing out.

This way or that - Sam knows he's going to be waiting for it to be five almost as eagerly as Dean.

He's heard so much about this woman. There's almost an air of mystery surrounding her at this point. All the facts Dean's ever dropped are cloaked with something close to fictional, because Sam doesn't know her at all.

And now he's finally going to meet her.

It's not like all he does, the entire day, is think about it. But it does make writing the reports for, and inputting April 2020's data into the server that much more of a fast process - since time flies until it's five.

And then, relatively, decides to stop.

Sam stares at the elevator.

He's done with his day - prepared to leave after Dean does, though definitely not before.

Waiting, he realizes, that he's formed something of a mental image. She's blonde in his imagination - probably a generic 5'5 or 6. Blue-eyed, cause Dean's mentioned that at least twice. And not to be creepy, but he assumes she'd be pretty too, cause his boss isn't exactly what he'd describe ugly.

So without meaning to, Sam's got an eye out for someone who fits the mold.

First man in, at two past five, is short and stocky. Second is Mrs. D'souza, a receptionist on the seventh floor.

Third and fourth are interns.

Fifth is a trenchcoated guy, squarer than Sam, with a wonky tie.

Sam sighs.

It's almost ten past five - and tardiness really isn’t his thing. Or Dean’s, for that matter. Staring intently in the direction of his elevator, he’s about to start getting righteously annoyed on Dean’s behalf when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

Sam swivels in his chair, taken by surprise - and slowly, his eyes widen.

Dean’s arm is slung about the fifth guy’s shoulders, grin directed entirely towards him. And he - Jesus, he - is six feet tall, trenchcoated, and wearing a tentative smile as he looks down at Sam.

Blue eyes complete the picture - plus a five o’clock shadow which never came up - and Sam’s head reels as he finally pieces everything together.

“Dean!” He exclaims, and it must count as a greeting, because it can’t really count as oh-my-god-Cas-is-a-man.

“Hey!” Dean beams. “Figured you should meet Cas.” And turning to Cas, “That’s Sam. My prodigy, basically.”

The heart-eyes have never been more obvious. 

Sam’s an idiot.

He can’t even grin like he’s supposed to - earning himself half an eyeroll form Dean - because he’s trying to figure out how he hadn’t figured it out yet.

“It’s good to meet you, Sam.” Cas says - and the fact that it’s the lowest he’s ever heard a voice go, makes him refocus enough that he can respond.

“You too, Cas.”

Dean’s still beaming, and finally, finally caught up with himself, Sam grins back.

He’s an idiot.

Cas just smiles wider.

(Well, one thing he got right. He’s definitely pretty. But measured against a scale of everything else he got wrong - there’s a long way to go.)

“Okay so,” Dean declares, far more chipper than usual. Someone could just’ve painted smitten across his face, really. “We should go. You probably guessed this but Cas isn’t the biggest fan of where I work.”

“You have a treadmill desk, Dean.”

“And I don't see you complaining about my stamina.” Dean throws back, and their eyes lock in a silent stare - heavy enough, that neither notices Sam looking away as subtly as he can. He’s not really supposed to witness them flirting - misdelivered packages asides.

Thankfully, the stare-off breaks when Cas points out that they were leaving.

And to the backdrop of Dean grumbling about Cas’s hatred for his job, Dean puts on his overcoat - well, he hands Cas his briefcase so he can properly do so, and then Cas just holds onto it - and they say their goodbyes to Sam and take off, walking close enough to brush arms all the way to the elevator.

Once they’re out of sight, Sam slumps in his chair, scrubbing his face with an incredulous laugh. 

Of course Dean Smith is married. And of course, Cas is his husband.

[jesswaywardangel]

A Christmas Miracle

There was a well-known secret: Dean Winchester loved to read. He’d deny it if you asked him and maybe some people would believe him, except for Cas. See, Cas had seen Dean’s soul, cradled it in his arms as he raised him from Perdition and with that came certain perks. Those perks included knowing Dean inside and out. And no matter how many times Dean brushed it off, he knew Dean loved to read and he knew his favorite author was Kurt Vonnegut.

It was two days before Christmas and Cas was on a mission. He was going to make sure Dean had the best Christmas present ever. The Winchesters were having a much needed break on Christmas, Sam and Dean both agreeing that they would take the day off. Buying Sam a gift had been easy but for Dean, Cas agonized about it for days. Sam had suggested that Cas give him something from the heart(Sam had to quickly explain that no, this didn’t mean that he should give Dean a piece of his vessel’s heart. Nine years on Earth and still, Cas took certain things literally).

Though Dean would not be pleased to hear about this, Cas had searched through Dean’s memories to find out what Kurt Vonnegut book he’d never read. Slaughterhouse-Five? That was his favorite. Cat’s Cradle? He’d read that, too. As well as Mother Night, Slapstick, Galapagos, and his other nine novels. He’d considered traveling back in time and stealing the original manuscript of Slaughterhouse-Five before Sam reminded him that if he did, it would be like the book had never existed. He was reluctant to say that Sam was right. What could he give someone who had done so much for him? Someone who forgave him again and again even as he messed up again and again? Someone who showed him what to live for? Someone who showed him what humanity was and the beauty in it? Cas was beginning to loathe the Christmas tradition that included buying a material thing that wouldn’t mean anything. He was on a hunt for something that would mean the world to Dean besides pie, his baby, and Sam.

It was days before it came, in the form of a simple internet search. He’d found it. The perfect gift for Dean Winchester. Something he could treasure forever.

+++

He flew to a small town in Williamsport, Indiana, where they were holding an auction for the first edition of Slaughterhouse-Five. Dean would love it. It held something of sentimental value. Through combing through Dean’s memories, he found that this was the first book Dean ever read, the one that made him think that reading wasn’t so bad at all. He was fifteen and waiting for Sam to get out of school. He waited in the library to find refuge from the rain and picked a random book to pretend to read so he didn’t look out of place. That book had been Slaughterhouse-Five and he read it in the three hours it took for Sam to get out of school. He ended up checking out a few more books by the same author. Kurt Vonnegut, in Dean’s opinion, was a badass.

People are known to seek refuge in literature and that’s exactly what Dean did. “And so it goes” became Dean’s mantra when things felt too hard to deal with. It was a comforting thing he would whisper to himself when his father would leave him and Sam alone to fend for themselves, when his father would punish him and when his father would hit him in drunken rage for letting Sam run away. And so it goes.

He had brought a thousand dollars, confident that no one would bid as high as him. Sam said that it was reported that the average price range would be around eight hundred so the book should be Cas’s to take.

That is, until a middle-aged woman with bright blue eyeliner and blonde, bouncing curls, bid higher than him.

“One thousand and five hundred!,” she said, a smug smile on her face as she glanced at Cas.

“One thousand and five hundred going once, going twice, and sold-”

“No!,” Cas growled, anger bubbling in his chest. He wished he could smite this woman and get away with it.

The auctioneer halted and blinked at Cas. “Do you have a bigger deal?”

But Cas wasn’t listening to the man in the flashy purple suit as he stalked towards the woman, thunder in his eyes. She eyed him with trepidation.

“You will not accept this book. It is mine.”

She blinked, her mouth hanging open as if ready to catch flies. She took a moment to compose herself before crossing her arms across her chest and raising her chin at him. “Excuse me but this is-”

“I don’t care,” Cas said. “This book is very important to someone I care deeply about and you will not take this away from him.”

“Well,” the woman tuted. “This book is very important to me and it is mine to take since I outbid you.”

“No,” Cas said as he moved closer into the woman’s personal space, his teeth gritted. “You do not understand how important this is. This is the first christmas where he will be at peace and nothing can go wrong. I will not let a bad present ruin it.”

“Well, sir-”

“I’m not finished. I met Dean when he was broken beyond repair, in hell, and I helped raised him from it. This man has taught me the value of life and humanity. He has taught me love. I rebelled against my family for him. Through everything he has stuck with me. From me betraying him, to not trusting him, he has never betrayed me nor not trusted me. He has always had my back. He has saved me time and time again. I have been told that I have fallen in every way imaginable for this man but I do not regret it.

Though I rescued him first, he has rescued me in more ways than one, in many times over. He is kind, selfless. He loves his family more than himself. He has an unhealthy relationship to his vehicle. He does not see the good that he is and how important and loved he is and I just want this gift to show him-”

The woman’s expression softened. “Sir-”

“I need that book. This was the first book he ever loved. It has meaning to him. After everything that this man has done for me, this is the little I could do.” He looks at the woman with a desperate expression. “Please, help me with this one small deed. I have known humans to be kind and selfless. I need this book.”

“Damn,” the woman mutters. “I wish I could find a man like you.”

Cas squints at her. “I’m sorry. Is that a flirtation?”

She smiles at him. “Please, honey, I can see you’re taken and pretty smitten about this boy of yours. Dean is one lucky man.” She glances at the book, resting on the display in all it's glory and sighs. “I withdraw my bid. Give it to this cutie. It obviously means more to him,” she announces to the auctioneer.

Cas’s eyes widens. It never ceases to amaze him how capable humans are of kindness. “Thank you. What you have done means a great deal to me.”

She waves him off. “I just wanted to resell it for a higher pay. It seems you needed it more.” She pats him on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas, sir.”

“Thank you.”

She smiles. “I hope that boy of yours likes it. You two have a good Christmas. And my name’s Elena if you want to invite me to your wedding.”

Cas tilts his head in confusion. “We’re not-”

Elena shakes her head. “Don’t worry, I’m not against gay relationships. Don’t feel the need to hide it from me.” She picks up her purse and coat.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Cas said, a small smile tugging on his lips as he watches her walk away.

“Sir,” the auctioneer says. “Here’s your book.”

As Cas hold the book gingerly, he revels in the fact that Christmas miracles do come true.

[vampamber]

“When a Trickster Comes Knocking” (Inktober Day 4: Mythology)

Title: When A Trickster Comes Knocking

Author: VampAmber

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Summary: “Hide me!” The stranger shouted the moment Dean opened his door. The man had been banging on it for well over a minute, waking Dean up out of a deep sleep filled with dreams of a certain someone that he knew he could never have.

“What, why?” Dean mumbled, still not entirely awake yet. It was late at night, after all, the moon only starting to go back down before the sun came to take its place.

“Because I need hidden, obviously,” the stranger replied snarkily, looking like he was about to start pushing his way into Dean’s hut at any moment. Dean rolled his eyes, but moved aside to let the stranger in. He was obviously not going to get anything out of the man until he did as he was asked.

“Okay, now you’re hidden,” Dean said as he closed his door. “Why exactly do you need to be hidden?”

Word Count:  1999

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12266442

“Hide me!” The stranger shouted the moment Dean opened his door. The man had been banging on it for well over a minute, waking Dean up out of a deep sleep filled with dreams of a certain someone that he knew he could never have.

“What, why?” Dean mumbled, still not entirely awake yet. It was late at night, after all, the moon only starting to go back down before the sun came to take its place.

“Because I need hidden, obviously,” the stranger replied snarkily, looking like he was about to start pushing his way into Dean’s hut at any moment. Dean rolled his eyes, but moved aside to let the stranger in. He was obviously not going to get anything out of the man until he did as he was asked.

“Okay, now you’re hidden,” Dean said as he closed his door. “Why exactly do you need to be hidden?”

“Freyja’s on the warpath again, and right now I’m her only target,” the man admitted, though he didn’t look near as terrified as a statement like that would normally warrant.

“What in Odin’s name did you do to anger a goddess?” Dean asked, plenty terrified for the both of them. Freyja was known for having a temper, especially whenever people such as Loki did something to earn her ire. Whatever this guy had done to set her off must have been quite horrible.

“Well, she’s pretty much always angry at me anyway, so I’m not sure which thing it was this time,” the stranger said, causing Dean to get a sudden sinking feeling. It couldn’t be…

“Loki?” Dean asked anyway, not sure if he believed it himself.

“One and the same,” the trickster god said with a grin. The grin was replaced quickly with one of dread when, outside of Dean’s hut, the sounds of an obviously displeased goddess started getting closer. “I think she followed me, where’s a place I can hide?”

“Oh no, no way am I getting in between two battling gods, especially when one of them is you,” Dean said, heading back to the doorway. “Out, get out now before you bring her wrath down on me too, for protecting you.”

“Please, don’t make me leave?” Loki begged. He even went so far as to get down on his knees, much to the amazement of the very mortal Dean. “Keep me hidden until she’s gone, and I’ll… I’ll give you a boon! Whatever your heart desires, I promise. Just don’t make me face her when she’s in the middle of a tantrum.”

Dean wasn’t a greedy man, not by a long shot, but a boon from a god was not something you passed up, no matter the god. “Fine, I have a trunk you can hide in.” He led the god into his bedroom and emptied out the trunk he kept at the foot of his bed. He’d never fit in it, because he was too tall and wide, but hopefully Loki would.

“Thanks, Dean-o,” the trickster god said before hopping in and closing the lid himself. Dean bristled, not liking that nickname at all, but the lid was already closed so there was no point in complaining now.

He went and poured himself a cup of mead, sitting down in his most comfortable chair to wait out the angry storm of noise outside. He probably should have gone back to sleep so that he wouldn’t be exhausted in the morning, but he knew there was no way he’d get any rest with Loki hiding only a few feet away. It took Freyja over an hour before she finally gave up and left the village, but when Dean checked the trunk to let Loki know that he was safe to come out, it was empty. The god had left him a pile of money, though, so at least it had been somewhat worth his efforts.

As Dean fell back to sleep, he wondered what it would have been like, had the boon been of his choosing instead of the pile of coins. While he knew that he probably would have asked for health for his family, mainly his brother Sam and his wife and children, Dean knew what his heart would have wished for. The man who lived across the courtyard from him was named Castiel. It was an odd name for an odd fellow, but it seemed to fit him perfectly. He collected books and gave sweets to the children, and took care of the elders without asking, and while Dean would never admit it out loud, he was completely smitten with the man. He often caught himself staring at that mop of messy, dark hair, and whenever those blue eyes were turned on him he would blush and look away immediately. It was with thoughts of Castiel floating through his head that Dean fell back into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke the next morning, the emptied out trunk with the pile of coins still in it let him know that all of the previous night’s events had actually happened. He took them to the lady Moseley’s hut to get them blessed, just in case. It was well known that bad luck tended to follow those that were unfortunate enough to have dealings with the trickster god. On his way back, he stopped at his brother’s hut to leave most of the coins with him. His sister by marriage, Eileen, was to give birth to his third niece or nephew soon, and everybody knew that children were expensive. Especially considering the two boys that Sam already had ate more than the horses their family took care of. Dean had to lie about where the money had come from, though he kept somewhat close to the truth by saying it was a boon from a god for doing them a favor. He was just conveniently vague on which god.

After many thanks and hugs and a much heartier breakfast than he ever would have made for himself, Dean finally headed home. And as was just his luck lately, Castiel was outside his own hut, tending to his garden. The other man smiled widely and waved, as was his habit. But he was friendly like that with everybody, so Dean tried to not get his hopes up.

“Ahh, so that's what your heart desires,” said a voice from behind him. Dean jumped, he was so startled.

He whipped around to face Loki. “Don't do that, you freaked me out,” he scolded, before he remembered he was scolding a deity. How had this become his life? “Wait, how did you do that? You weren't there a moment ago.”

“Hello, trickster,” the shorter man drawled out. Dean was really starting to understand why Freyja and the rest of the gods were so often annoyed by him. “I can pop in and out whenever and wherever I want.”

“Then why did you need me to hide you last night?” Dean asked, trying to not show his annoyance. He mostly succeeded. “Why not find a mountaintop or an island far away from here instead? Somewhere less obvious than an empty storage trunk.”

“Because, Dean-o,” Loki started to say, before vanishing. “She could've tracked me if I had,” he continued, now once again behind Dean.

“Fine, whatever,” Dean huffed as he turned around once again to face the annoying little god. “Thank you for the coins, it was very helpful. I appreciate your boon,” he said, his voice dull.

“The coins weren't your boon, they were just to make up for the mess you had to clean up,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. “I said 'whatever your heart desires’ and I meant it. And from the looks of it, your heart’s desiring that handsome gardener across the lane.”

Dean started choking on air. “No,” he sputtered out, probably looking as stupid as he felt right now. “I have no idea what you’re even talking about. Why would you say something so crazy?” Hearing the truth, as much as he was currently denying it, come from another person’s mouth was just too much. Especially since that other person was technically a god.

Loki just laughed mockingly, the jerk. It took him a few minutes to finish, all the while Dean burned bright red from embarrassment as he prayed to literally any other god that wasn’t the one in front of him that Castiel wasn’t paying attention to the spectacle currently going on. “Sorry Dean-o, that was just way too hilarious,” the trickster god said, when he was finally able to speak again. “But extreme denial or not, I can feel your longing from Valhalla. He’s your heart’s desire, so he’s what you’re gonna get.”

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a tortured sigh. “Fine, you’re right, I have a… thing for him. But I would never have you force him to be with me with some love spell or whatever. It’d be fake then, and I know damn well my heart doesn’t desire that.”

“Who said I’d have to force him?” Loki asked, giving Dean a look that showed just how stupid he thought the mortal was. “You think your longing is big? I could probably hear his from the farthest reaches of Asgard, the kid’s heart is screaming so loudly for you. No clue what he sees in you, because you’re obviously a clueless idiot, but at least the pining is mutual. Makes my job a lot easier.”

Dean felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop, but his brain was too busy imploding in on itself for him to truly care. It wasn’t one-sided? “He… he likes me?”

Loki snorted. “Your mom dropped you on your head as a kid pretty often, didn’t she? Yes, dumb ass, he likes you too. Now go over there and start courting or whatever it is you kids do these days.”

Dean felt dazed by this news. “Yes, of course. Thank you Loki,” he mumbled as he headed over to Castiel’s hut to speak with him, not even paying attention when Loki disappeared from sight.

Gabriel watched on from above as his little brother opened the door for Dean, and smiled as they started talking. This happened every single time with those two. Lots of staring and mutual pining, but they were always too afraid to make the first move until he intervened somehow. At least this time he didn’t have to be as subtle, since Loki was well known for showing up randomly and doing whatever he felt like.

He sensed his Father appear beside him when the two currently-human idiots shared their first kiss. “He always does end up with the Righteous Man, doesn’t he?” God said fondly as He began watching as well.

“That one’s more on you than me, Dad,” Gabriel responded, and God just shrugged. “Aren’t you supposed to be off winning absentee father of the year or something?” He teased. The archangel smiled as his Father chuckled.

“I like keeping an eye on your little ‘experiment’,” He admitted. “Having the seraph live mortal lives, even if he doesn’t remember them afterwards, is definitely changing him for the better. It’s teaching him to love humanity, the way I wanted you all to.”

“If by ‘humanity’ you mean ‘the Righteous Man’, then yeah, it’s definitely teaching him that, Dad,” Gabriel joked back.

“You know exactly what I meant,” God scolded, though Gabriel could tell He didn’t really mean it. Whenever He popped in to see how His youngest son was doing, they always bantered like this. They were quickly becoming some of Gabriel’s favorite moments. “They have a lot of difficult times ahead of them, quite a few centuries from now. I’m glad they can have these moments before then.”

“Yeah, me too,” Gabriel agreed. The two stopped watching once Dean and Castiel started towards things no family member should ever witness, and Gabriel grinned as he started to wonder when they would show up next.

[deancaskiss]

Tinsel and Tourists - Chapter Ten

Word Count: 1,811 (another long chapter, I’m sorry)

Dean’s POV

Link to ao3 / Link to masterpost

“For God’s sake, Dean. Snap out of it, lover boy. We’ve got a real case here that’s far more complicated than a salt-n-burn. Could you quit staring at your phone with heart-eyes for five freaking seconds so we can actually do our jobs,” Sam said, crossing his arms and snapping his computer open with a poignant look thrown Dean’s way.

“You’re the one who set me up with him in the first place,” Dean shot back. “You’ve been deliberately pushing us together, and just when I’m about to kiss him, you had to interrupt.”

“Dead body showed up and we needed to check it out. Pretty damn important if you ask me,” Sam said.

“You couldn’t have waited one extra minute? You clearly saw I was milliseconds away from finally kissing him-”

Sam loudly slammed a book down onto the table, effectively cutting Dean off. “Five times, Dean. Five times tonight so far you’ve given me crap for interrupting. I’m sick of hearing about it. Go out there and find Cas and kiss him right now or shut the hell up and get to work, unless you want whatever this is to take Cas and kill him, too.”

Damn. That was a sobering thought. If any monster even so much as looked at Cas, Dean swore he was going to lose it. He couldn’t stop his mind from screaming mine; a protective streak burning inside his gut and wrapping up into his chest.

Placing his phone back down on the table, Dean opened his own laptop and sighed. “How do we even begin to start narrowing down what this thing is? Is there any connection between Callie and Oliver?”

Sam pushed both of the files across the table towards Dean. “Other than the fact they were roughly around the same age, 28 and 29, that’s all I’ve got. Callie worked at the local theater. Oliver was a second grade teacher. They live in different neighborhoods and run in completely different social circles. Oliver is well known in town and is one of the most popular teachers at the elementary school. Callie was quieter. Both of them have helped out with work around the town in different ways- Oliver volunteers at the local animal shelter and Callie helped out at the elderly home. As far as I can tell, both of them are pictures of model citizens, just in different ways.”

Flipping open the files, Dean scanned the contents as he listened to Sam rattle off the big details. “So either they’re both hiding something and that’s why they were targeted, or they both really were squeaky clean and that’s why they were taken.”

“This whole town is filled with good people, Dean. That doesn’t exactly narrow it down for who could potentially be taken next. And we can’t exactly protect an entire town,” Sam said. “Something about it still feels sacrificial.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head down to the table before muttering, “We’ve talked about this, though. No signs of a God in town. No happy success stories or flourishing town.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, and all Dean could hear was the clacking of Sam’s keys as he typed. He let his eyes close, mind wandering back to Cas and their date tomorrow night. God, he was so freaking whipped it was unbelievable. How was he even supposed to tell Cas he’d never been ice skating in his entire life? He was going to look like a complete idiot falling on his ass on the ice tomorrow. And yet, despite the impending humiliation, Dean’s heart was hammering against his chest just at the mere thought of seeing Cas again.

He replayed the almost-kiss over again for probably the hundredth time that night, and he felt himself flush. Cas’ lips… God, even just the briefest brush had been enough to have Dean breathless. He’d been half tempted to walk out of the motel and find Cas when Sam suggested it, merely because he could barely get his brain to focus on anything except kissing Cas and how damn good those chapped lips would feel sliding against his own.

When his phone buzzed on the table, breaking his wandering thoughts, Dean all but hurled himself to pick it up, hoping it was another text from Cas. When he saw Bobby’s name, he scoffed and dropped the phone back down again; trying desperately to tamper down the disappointment that it wasn’t Cas.

“You’re like a lovesick teenager,” Sam muttered from the other side of the table.

“Shut up, no I’m not,” Dean snapped back instantly.

“Sure you’re not. That wasn’t a predictable reaction to thinking your crush has texted you only to find out it wasn’t him,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

“Go screw yourself. I don’t have a crush. I’m not twelve.”

Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You’re so transparent you might as well be translucent, Dean.”

Pushing his chair back, Dean stood up. “I’m done having this conversation.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get a beer from the fridge because I’m way too sober to be dealing with your crap right now,” Dean muttered, storming off to the small fridge in the room.

Just as Dean got the cap off the beer, a thought flittered into his head. “You keep saying it feels sacrificial, right?”

Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean approached, taking the beer that Dean held out to him as a peace offering. “Yeah, but as you keep pointing out, there’s no signs of a God.”

“Right, but what if the sacrifices aren’t being done by a God, but being done to appease a God? Something that was protecting and serving the Gods. Almost a middle man between the Gods and the people.”

Sam thought about it for a second before nodding. “We are days away from the winter solstice. And all the patterning shows the sacrifices leading right up to that time frame. And you said it when we left the scene, the way her body was cut up, it was precise; extremely ritualistic.”

“No blood left in her, either. And no obvious signs of vamps draining people around here. A blood offering?”

Sam hummed, before he started typing with renewed interest. “You might be onto something. I’ve got a couple theories. Why don’t you put a call out to Bobby to see if he knows anything, and I’ll hit the lore.”

“Got it,” Dean said, grabbing his phone and taking his beer with him as he stepped outside to call Bobby. After explaining everything that was happening with the case and the details they’d picked up so far, Bobby promised he’d do some research of his own and call if he found anything useful.

By the time he’d finished his call with Bobby, Dean had finished his beer and he was pleasantly warm inside despite the cold wind.

In the morning, he’d blame it on the alcohol, which was a weak excuse when he’d only had the one beer. And yet, after he hung up with Bobby, his finger moved to hover over Cas’ contact. And before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed call.

The second the dialing tone rang in his ear, Dean panicked and went to hang up, but Cas answered on the second ring.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart instantly kicked up in his chest, and he felt the air in his lungs stutter at just hearing Cas’ voice through the phone.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said.

“Did something happen? Is there- has there been another death?”

Dean shook his head, kicking a small bank of snow as he began to walk around the motel. “No. No, I just- I uh, I missed you.”

Shit. As soon as the words came out, Dean winced. What was wrong with him? He really was a lovesick teenager. One date and a botched first kiss and Dean was so smitten he could barely go five seconds without thinking about Cas. Just hearing Cas’ voice made Dean yearn, and the words had slipped out without his control. And yet, he meant them. Even the case was barely keeping his attention right now. He’d already began an internal countdown to their date tomorrow night, which was pathetic and desperate and yet he couldn’t stop himself.

“I’ve kept my phone with me all night since you texted me,” Cas said quietly, before he laughed softly.

Oh God. Was Cas waiting by the phone for him? Jesus. Why was that so cute that it made Dean’s chest ache?

“My witty humor just so good that you were waiting for more?” Dean said, automatically switching to teasing.

“Something like that,” Cas replied, and Dean could almost feel his smile through the phone.

“I um- I have absolutely no idea how to ice skate, by the way,” Dean admitted, reaching up to snap an icicle off the roof just to keep his hands busy.

“You’ve never ice skated before?” Cas asked, shock bouncing down the phone.

“Nope, never.”

“I’ll teach you,” Cas said earnestly.

“Only if you promise not to let me fall on my ass,” Dean said with a laugh.

“I promise I won’t take my hands off of you,” Cas replied instantly, before the weight of his words seemed to settle in the air. Dean swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting on itself at the thought of Cas’ hands lingering on him.

“And what if I can’t keep my hands to myself?” Dean said, words raw and yet filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite name.

“Is that a promise, Dean?” Cas asked, voice slipping an octave lower; sending a thrill down Dean’s spine.

“God, yes,” Dean found himself saying, words ripped from his throat as he was overcome with the urge to grab Cas right now and kiss him. “Swear to God, if you don’t bring mistletoe-”

Cas laughed and the sound made Dean’s chest feel tight. “As long as you don’t leave me standing underneath it alone again.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Dean said. Just as he was about to say something else, his phone buzzed in his hand and a text from Sam flickered across the screen. Time to get back to work. “Listen, Cas, I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“7 o’clock, Dean. Don’t you dare be late,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dean replied, before handing up; heart racing from the call and his hands sweaty just from flirting with Cas again.

As he made his way back to the room, his eyes flickered to an oak tree near the motel; a clump of mistletoe hanging from one of the branches. Reaching up, Dean snagged a few pieces, smiling to himself as he slipped them into his pocket. Just a little bit of extra insurance to make sure he got that kiss with Cas tomorrow.