Summary: Dean considers himself a laid back guy, but he can get pretty damn possessive when it comes to anyone else hitting on his boyfriend. A diner and a flirty waitress compel Dean to show everyone who Castiel belongs to.
Dean Winchester was by no means a possessive man. Of course, it was no secret he’d been with quite a few partners, and he’d never had problems with any of them flirting with other people. Hell, he’d even been in a few open relationships, and found them downright liberating.
But this…this was Cas. And though it was impossible to articulate why, that simple fact made it a different manner entirely.
Dean watched as the buxom, blond waitress buzzed around his oblivious boyfriend like a honeybee, voice sickly sweet and thick with Southern accent.
In the past, Dean might have been jealous that she wasn’t flirting with him instead, but he couldn’t blame her for digging Cas: he knew from experience that there was some serious seductive power in those puppydog eyes.
No, Dean didn’t care that sometimes the ladies favored Cas. He just wanted them to get the hell away from his boyfriend.
“Alright, folks, lemme get this straight,” said the woman, finally straightening up. Becky, her name tag read. Of course it was Becky: it seemed to Dean that all irksome blond women in this world were named Becky. “So nachos and milkshake and a large caeser salad for the boys here, and a triple cheeseburger for you, sugar?”
Cas nodded, evidently oblivious. “Yes, please.”
“And steak with mushrooms,” added Mary. “Bloody.”
“You got it, ma’am,” said Becky, not appearing to notice the venom in Mary’s tone: she was, it would appear, just as possessive as Dean was when it came to her angelic in-law. “You’re orders should be comin’ right up before you can say Jack Robinson!”
Dean glowered after Becky as the woman bounced away, the curly blond locks he sourly presumed to be hair extensions jiggling with every step. He was just glad he was finally out with his family, so that he no longer had to hide this specific brand of loathing.
Peripherally, he was aware of Sam’s awkward attempts to initiate small-talk, to which he responded with unintelligible grunting noises. It was soon clear to everyone involved that Dean was in no mood for idle chitchat.
Soon, Becky returned with their orders, still oblivious to Dean giving her the stink eye. It was all he could do not to flip over the table in a fit of rage when she bent over to put Cas’s burgers in front of him, putting her cleavage directly in his face.
Sam watched his brother in concern as he sulkily watched her leave.
“WHAT,” Dean demanded, mouth full of nachos.
“I think you should talk to Cas, man,” Sam suggested discretely.
Cas, eyebrows rumpled, watched the scene in confusion.
“What? What for?” Dean scoffed, a stray chunk of tortilla chip flying from his mouth and landing on the table cloth. Dignity, it would seem, was not his virtue today.
“We came here to relax, in case you’ve forgotten,” said Mary pointedly. “And I don’t like to say it, sweetheart, but you’re souring the mood a little.”
Dean huffed. “Well, you’re one to talk, Bloody Mary.”
“Don’t use that tone with me, young man.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Look, Dean. I know you’ve been doing this for most of your relationship with Cas, but not everything can be solved with weirdly expressive staring contests.”
Well, that was just rude.
“Go talk to your boyfriend, Dean,” Sam reiterated. “Tell him what’s bothering you. Consistency and communication, right?”
Dean looked beleaguerdly to the duo flanking him, and sighed in capitulation. “Maybe…maybe you’re right.”
Ignoring Sam and Mary’s gentle encouragements, he looked to Cas, who seemed to have given up on trying to follow along with the conversation and was now occupying himself with his burgers.
Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, Cas, buddy. You wanna come to the bathroom with me for a sec?”
Cas looked confused. “You know I don’t require that kind of bodily function, Dean.”
“Yeah, no. Not what I meant,” Dean sighed, ignoring Sam and Mary’s stifled snickers. “What I meant was…do you wanna maybe go somewhere a little more, y’know. Private?”
Cas squinted, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Is this regarding intercourse?” he whispered sagely.
“NO!” Dean barked, ears getting hot. A few people at the surrounding tables looked up, and Dean lowered his voice. “No. Just…come with me to the bathroom, alright? I wanna talk to you.”
In the past, Dean might have worried how it would look to be walking to a very small, one-room restroom with another man. Now it barely crossed his mind.
Cas watched Dean, puzzled, as he locked the door behind him.
Then, he sighed, turned to face Cas and tried (failed) to get his thoughts together.
“That is a variation of my name, yes,” Cas deadpanned.
Dean gave him a look. “Cas, y’know…I’m not a possessive sort of guy, right?”
“I know nothing of the kind, Dean. You were a demon, after all.”
Dean’s eyelids fluttered. Here he was, actually trying to have a serious conversation for once in his life, and Cas had to go and turn into a goddamn comedian.
Seeming to sense his discomfort, Cas offered, “I noticed you sometimes use humor to diffuse tense situations.”
“Yeah, well, I appreciate the effort, Cas,” Dean sighed, wisely deciding not to add but it’s not working. “Look, I don’t expect you to realize this, but that waitress out there…the way she was talking to you…”
“She was flirting with me,” Cas supplied. “I know.”
Dean blinked comprehensibly. “…You, uh. You do?”
Now, it was Cas’s time to give Dean a look. “I may still be new to the ways of mankind, Dean, but I’m not nearly so naive as you take me for.”
Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re not, are you?”
“I also noticed it was bothering you immensely,” Cas stated. “Why is that, Dean?”
Dean stared at him, suddenly wishing he’d been more subtle. Then, he sighed, looking almost abashedly down at his boots.
“Look, Cas,” he reluctantly began. “I know I haven’t always treated you as good as I should have: when I said I didn’t care you were broken, when I kicked you outta the bunker, when I nearly killed you that time-”
“Dean, you know I-”
“You forgive me,” Dean concluded for him, almost bitterly. “I know. You said it before. But I don’t.”
Cas shakes his head, looking at Dean with such wide-eyed adoration it makes Dean sick. “Dean,” he murmured.
Dean sighed, looking pensively off into the distance. “And even before then, I was so damn mean to you, y’know? Calling you a sissy and a coward and a…”
“A baby in a trench coat?” Cas offered.
In spite of himself, Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that too. Point is, you deserve better than me, Cas. And someday, selfish as it might be, I’m scared you’re gonna realize that. And then, uh…and then…” Dean bit his lip, unable to will himself to finish.
Cas seemed to read his mind. “I’ll never leave you, Dean.”
“No, Dean. You’ve said you’re piece, now you listen: you are the most beautiful human being I have ever seen in all my Father’s creation, and contrary to what you may think, I have seen many. I’ve loved you since I first saw your soul in hell, and perhaps even before. I’ve loved you since before I could identify the emotion of love at all, but I knew even then that being with you, holding you in my arms, fulfilled some primordial need I wasn’t aware I had. I love you, Dean,” Cas reiterated. “And even if I must leave you someday, I’ll always find you again.”
Dean’s eyes felt damp now. His mouth flopped open for a moment or two, searching vainly for something to say.
Then, next thing he knew, he was doing something different with his lips entirely, kissing Castiel’s furiously as he pressed him up against the tiled bathroom wall.
“Dean,” Cas groaned, his deepened voice going straight to Dean’s pants.
Cas evidently noticed the change, too, because he looked up at him slyly beneath half-lidded blue eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t about intercourse, Dean?”
Dean stared at him, then huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Buddy, you are not as innocent as everyone thinks you are.”
You could here a pin drop in the restaurant as the disheveled duo exited the bathroom, Dean grinning stupidly and stinking of sex, Cas’s cheeks still flushed pink and usual sex hair exacerbated.
Sam, Mary, and yes, Becky too, all gape at them, owl-eyed, as they approach the table. It was incredibly awkward, for everyone except Dean: he was still too bathed in afterglow to feel anything but smug about the situation.
Finally, it was Becky who broke the silence. “Um. You folks want desert?”
“Not for me, sweetheart,” Dean grinned, fingers laced possessively with Cas’s. “I just had myself a Sunshine Special.”
Of course, it’s a silly joke, one that only a few of those present will understand. And besides, what Cas had ordered at the other place was a sunrise special, but Dean looked so happy with the whole situation that Cas couldn’t bare to correct him.
After Becky bustled away, Sam leaned over, infamous bitchface firmly in place. “That is not what I meant when I said you guys should talk.”