Like a friggin’ ghost, Castiel appears out of nowhere at the end of the table.
“What’s a ‘DILF’?”
Dean raises his head from his book at the same time as Sam. They meet each other’s eyes across the table and promptly enter into a silent battle of wills.
Sam raises his eyebrows. Dean shakes his head subtly. Sam frowns and narrows his eyes. Dean frowns back and flicks his eyes pointedly to Castiel. Sam purses his lips. Dean flicks his eyes to Castiel again. And then Sam wins the argument by cheating, deliberately looking back down at his book on extinct South American languages and doing his best impression of someone who hadn’t even heard the question. He makes an exaggerated show of turning his page and peering closely at the text, even making stupid little noises of interest like the book is the most fascinating thing he’s ever read, and Dean’s frown deepens into a scowl.
“Did you hear my question?” Castiel asks.
Dean sighs, makes a mental note to throw in a red shirt with Sam’s next laundry load of whites, and shuts his own book.
“Where did you hear it, Cas?”
“At the mall,” Castiel answers immediately. “There was a group of adolescents and I heard one of them say the word to her friend.”
“Okay, Cas. Number one? Stop spying on teenagers at the mall, it’s fucking creepy.”
“But I learn so much from them,” Castiel protests.
“And B, ’DILF’ isn’t a word, it’s an acronym. It means… well, it means ‘Dad I’d Like to Fuck,” he says bluntly, deciding to just spit it out, because god knows that using subtlety on Cas doesn’t always have the best track record. “They were saying they thought some older guy there was hot. Usually you don’t hear ‘DILF’ that often though. ‘MILF’ – or Mom I’d Like to Fuck – is a lot more common. It’s pretty popular in some circles, there’s an entire porn niche dedicated to ‘MILF’s. Hell, I’ve even heard of ‘GILF’s before.”
“He doesn’t need an entire lesson on your disturbing porn-watching habits,” Sam mutters from the side of his mouth, without looking up from his book.
“Hey, he asked,” Dean snaps back. “I’m just being thorough – since someone here is zero help.”
“I see,” Castiel says, ignoring their bickering. He looks thoughtful, like he’s pondering something. “…so I’m considered a ‘DILF’?”
“Christ, they were talking about you? Of course they were,” Dean mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. He sighs and straightens up a little. “Not really, Cas, you gotta be a dad to be a ‘Dad I’d Like to Fuck’, and your…whatever it is…with Claire doesn’t really count, you’re not technically her dad.” He mulls it over for a second, then shrugs. “I guess you’re just an ‘Angel I’d Like to Fuck’.”
Castiel looks surprised and pleased. “Thank you, Dean. I find you extremely attractive as well.”
It takes Dean about 1.6 seconds to process what just happened.
“Wait a second – that’s not what I –“
But Castiel, the flighty bastard, is already striding out of the library just as quickly and efficiently as he’d appeared, apparently satisfied now that his question was answered. The bottom of his trenchcoat disappears around the corner.
“ – meant,” Dean finishes lamely. He grits his teeth in annoyance and tears his eyes away from the empty doorway - straight into Sam’s smug face and knowing smile.
“Smooth, Dean. Real smooth.”
“….you know that’s not what I meant!” he tries again.
“Uh huh. Whatever you say.” Sam looks back at his book and turns the page again, still wearing a stupid smirk on his face.
Dean glares down at the table. “Wasn’t what I fucking meant,” he mutters under his breath. Although he’s not sure if he’s still trying to convince Sam, or himself.
…and how the hell is he supposed to pronounce ‘AILF’ anyways?