Chapter Text
Dean fidgets while lounging in his bed, attempting to focus his eyes back onto the page in front of him with no luck. He knows that the research needs to get finished but he's just so fucking tired. He and Sam have been on the road with no break for too damn long and both of them looked a bit worse for the wear. Dean shifts his gaze from the paragraph he had been attempting, and failing, to decipher over to where Sam was sitting at the rickety hotel table.
Sam's typing intermittently at the keyboard, his eyes focused on the page in front of him, only glancing away every few minutes to jot a note down on the notebook next to him. Sam's knuckles are scabbed over, similarly to Dean's, as the vamp nest they had taken out in the last town wasn't as small as they had anticipated. His eyes have bags under them from staying up late the night before trying to track the whatever the hell it was away from its last feast. Even
Sam's hair seems a little less shiny than normal, which makes Dean snort under his breath.
"You know, Dean, if you aren't going to help me finish this research, you might as well go get us some food," Sam smirks, making Dean scramble to look like he was actually reading. Sam chuckles at that, not a full-out laugh like he would have given in years past, just flash of teeth and a hint of a smile. Dean wishes he could bring those laughs back, the regret of forcing this unhappiness on his brother thrumming in the back of his head as he grins back at Sam.
"Yeah, alright," Dean replies eventually, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off of the sagging bed, "been sitting here for hours anyway, I need some new scenery." He grabs Ruby's demon-killing knife from his side table and double checking to make sure his 1911 is loaded and tucked safely into the holster in the small of his back before grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door. "I'll be back in a few!" Dean calls over his shoulder and Sam smiles and turns back to his computer.
The Impala sits underneath the streetlight, her rims a little muddy but overall just as fabulous as always. Dean grins as he slides behind the wheel, debating whether to go to the nearest diner (it had looked more dingy than normal) or to drive a couple extra miles to go to the nicer looking one they had passed earlier. While pondering, Dean starts up the Impala, letting her warm up in the cold winter air. It's definitely colder than normal this year, but Dean doesn't know whether to attribute that to climate change or the shit that he and Sam are dealing with around here. Dean shakes his head and pushes the meat of his palms into his eyes until he can see stars. Come on, man, he says to himself, sighing deeply, focus.
Cas chooses that moment (of course) to pop into being in the passenger's seat. "Hello, Dean," he murmurs, the streetlight causing his eyes to look nearly ice blue as he stares at Dean.
Dean jumps, nearly hitting his head on his headrest, before turning to glare at the scruffy angel. "Seriously, man," Dean growls, his eyes flicking over Cas's face and clothes before looking back up into his eyes, "how many times are we gonna have to go over this? You can't just pop in like that, it freaks out us mere mortals."
The corner of Cas's mouth tips up in a tiny smile at that, and he looks down at his hands folded in his lap. "I apologize, Dean. I will try to be less sudden when I "pop in"," he murmurs.
Dean shakes his head and goes to start up his baby. "Well, if you're staying, I got to go pick up some grub for Sam an me."
Cas nods and settles in, turning to stare out the front windshield. Dean pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards where he remembers the less sketchy of the two diners being. Every so often Dean glances over at Cas, mentally cataloguing the differences from the last time they were able to see one another. Cas looks just as unflappable as always, his hair windblown and his suit a bit rumpled and disheveled. Dean's eyes unwittingly zoom in on Cas's tie, pulled loosely around his neck and backward. Dean's fingers itch to fix it, but he pushes the thought from his mind before turning back towards the road.
"So, man, what's goin on?" inquires Dean, "What brought you down here to slum it with Sam an me?" Cas frowns at the self-deprecating remark and turns to look at Dean, his fingers tightening in his lap.
"I am not "slumming it", as you say," Cas responds, the annoyance from Dean's offhand remark bleeding into his voice, "You know that most of the time I would rather be here with you two. When I have a break, such as now, I prefer to be in your company."
A blush spreads over Dean's cheeks as he glares daggers through the windshield and into the road ahead of them. The silence between them expands until Dean pushes the blush off his face and steadies his voice, "Well thanks, man. That's nice of ya. Sam and I enjoy having you around." Cas smiles at his response and watches the terrain pass by through the passenger side window while fiddling with the tie hanging loosely around his neck.
The movement of Cas's hand pulls Dean's attention away from the road and he does a double take when he sees Cas's fingers curl around the deep blue tie. The itching-burning feeling in Dean's fingers from earlier returns tenfold and he has to grip the steering wheel until his knuckles blanch to keep from reaching over and pulling Cas's tie back to the proper position. Dean rips his eyes away from Cas and back to the road, resolutely ignoring the tingling of constricted blood vessels in his fingers.
Cas watches Dean out of the corner of his eyes. Not staring like he used to because "all that staring is just creepy, man". He wonders what is making Dean so tense, his fingers look as though they could break the steering wheel. As much as he wants to know, Cas will never ask because he knows Dean, knows the look on his face, and knows he would never answer, not truthfully at least.
It takes them about ten minutes to get to the diner and by then the silence in the car is nearly palpable even if it isn't the awkward type of silence. They pull into the small parking lot and Dean grabs a spot as close to the door as possible, but makes sure the people next to him parked properly (don't want any dings or scratches on Baby). Cas has already popped back outside the car when Dean slams his door and they both head inside.
Dean forces his eyes not to stray to the scrap of fabric around the angel's neck, but he can still see the slight swinging of it in his periphery. Before heading up to the bar to order, Dean grabs Cas's shoulder. "I know you don't have to eat, but you want anything?" Dean asks, grabbing a menu from an empty table and pushing it into Cas's hands. Cas considers turning Dean down, but when he looks at Dean he can't find the will to say no. Instead he flips open the menu and takes a look.
While Cas is distracted, trying to find something to order, Dean lets his eyes stray below the angel's shoulders. The dark blue of Cas's tie contrasts starkly with the white cotton of his dress shirt. The tie isn't completely backwards, Dean observes. The Winsor knot has moved around and the broader section is turned sideways. The first section of the tie rests sideways on Cas's chest while the rest lies completely backwards, showing the small white tag and tip lining, which is a couple shades lighter than the deep blue of the front. Dean is focused on staring at the mussed tie but not touching that he forgets to pull his eyes away before Cas decides what he'd like to order.
Cas looks up from the menu having decided to go with a burger and fries (he remembers Famine and that burgers were fairly satisfying until he had begun his 408th) and notices Dean's intense staring contest with his chest. Dean must not have realized quite how fiercely he was staring because not only did he not notice Cas looking up from the page, but his hands were clenched by his side again, his knuckles white enough that Cas could see some small scars marking the skin.
"Dean?" Cas questions in an attempt to pull Dean's attention from his thoughts. Dean startles, bumping back against the wall and looks up towards Cas.
"Yeah, you ready?" Dean asks a couple seconds later once he pulls his thoughts away from Cas's fucking tie.
Cas nods, "Yes. I would like to try a cheeseburger and fries." Dean takes the menu and puts it away, nodding, then heads up towards the bar to catch the server's attention. Still puzzled by Dean's behavior, Cas follows. What was causing Dean to act so oddly? Cas positions himself so he can see Dean's face while he orders, smiling and flirting a little with the waitress. He doesn't seem angry; was he still upset that Cas has appeared so suddenly? Cas decided to apologize again once the two of them were back in the car.
Dean is running on autopilot, ordering a double bacon cheeseburger for himself along with Cas's order and a Caesar salad with grilled chicken for Sam with a few flirtatious words thrown in. He notices Cas sliding up next to him and glancing at his face in the corner of his eye. Dean resolutely looks away and back at the cute waitress in front of him before he catches a glimpse of that infuriating ocean blue fabric. Even still, just the thought of Cas's tie made his fingers tighten and itch ever so slightly. Dean pushes the thoughts of pushing Cas against the wall and fixing that fucking tie out of his mind, forcing himself to refocus on paying for their food.
It takes about ten to twelve minutes to cook up their meal, so Dean and Cas sit up at the bar and make some small talk. Dean tells Cas about the vamps that he and Sam took out a few days ago, and Cas tells Dean about the different missions Heaven has been sending him on lately. Cas asks what Dean and Sam are hunting around here, and when Dean describes the attacks Cas looks intrigued. "You say it's eating the entire family in just one night?"
"I mean, not everything, just the skin," Dean says, keeping quiet so that the waitress doesn't hear, "Sam and I've been researching all day trying to figure out what it is."
"Have you considered a Rakshasa?" asks Cas, absentmindedly fiddling with the end of his tie. Dean has to clench his hands to keep from batting Cas's away.
"No, but that's a good idea. Lemme text Sam," Dean distracts his hands with pulling out his phone and tapping out a quick message, but that doesn't mean Cas doesn't notice the tightness of his hands.
"Alright boys, here you go," chirps the waitress, setting a couple plastic bags full of food down in front of them, "Come around again sometime!" She winks quickly and walks away to take the order of a new customer. Cas grabs the bags off the counter and follows Dean back out to the car, watching as Dean shoves his phone back in his pocket and unlocks the Impala. Cas places the bags behind his seat, taking care so that they won't tip over during the trip, and actually climbs into the car without using his "angel mojo" as Dean calls it.
Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise but doesn't make fun, maybe all those talks about how mojo-ing around scares the shit out of people were actually soaking in. Dean couldn't complain about that, not after bitching about it every time it happened. Once he's slid into the driver's seat and started his baby up, they peel out of the parking lot and head back towards the motel.
It's a quiet drive, at least for the first few minutes, before Dean catches a bit of blue in the corner of his eye, and drums his fingers on the steering wheel as a distraction. Cas frowns and looks at Dean, attempting to judge his mood. "Dean, are you still angry at me from earlier?" asks Cas, the crease between his eyebrows deepening, "For "poofing" in unannounced?"
Dean turns to Cas with a look of surprise, before turning his eyes back to the road "No, man! Why would you think that?"
"Because every time you look at me, you get tense. Your fingers tighten." Cas replies, confusion evident in his voice.
"Oh, dude," Dean says, a blush dusting over his cheeks, "That is totally not cause of you, man."
"No? What is the cause then Dean? Is something upsetting you?"
"Nothing, man, I guess I'm just more tired than I thought."
Cas, as much as humanity was a new thing for him, could tell when someone was lying, but he didn't push. Dean would just get defensive and they would end up in a disagreement. Instead, Castiel stays quiet as Dean leans forward and turns up the radio.