Chapter Text
To say that Castiel (former) Angel of the Lord was unhappy with having mortality abruptly and rudely forced upon him would be an understatement. Despite having watched the earth since the beginning of Creation, Castiel was not prepared for the abhorrent tasks of day-to-day mortal life. Why his Father made human bodies so high maintenance and so... disgusting, he claimed he would never understand.
Dean had laughed at the statement, telling Cas he was being dramatic and that things like morning breath and bowel movements, while unpleasant, were hardly the"Worst things ever". Castiel scoffed and nearly rolled his eyes out of his head at the implication he was in any way "dramatic" and stormed away from the amused hunter.
As the weeks passed, Castiel became more accustom to his new life, learning the necessities of daily living as well as hunting. Dean noticed Cas' attitude improved somewhat, but the constant melancholy still hung like a black cloud over the bunker. After one particularly uncomfortable breakfast in which the ex-angel somberly compared Kevin's half-burnt toast to the "sad uncertainty of the human condition" Dean decided that, not only did it not make sense, but he was totally, completely, 100% done with his friend's existential crap.
Dean was well aware that Cas' trek to the bunker had not been a pleasant one. It seemed that all of Castiel's experiences in his first few weeks as a card carrying member of the human race had unfortunately been negative. Cas never told the brothers everything that happened to him after the angels fell, but based on the condition he was in when he finally made it home - cold, bloody, and starving - Dean worked the details out himself. Now, Cas barely left the bunker and stayed locked in his room most of the time, reading through old tomes from the Men of Letters impressive library.
'No wonder the guy's so freaking miserable.'
Dean determined his friend had not yet been given the chance to experience the good aspects of humanity, and that was something he was going to rectify.
Cas needed to make the best of his situation and as his best friend, Dean realized it was his duty to show the ex-angel how to let loose. Not one for thinking outside the box, Dean quickly formed a short list of obvious yet surefire solutions to cheer him up.
Sex, naturally, was item number one on the list of fun new things for Cas to try. Dean was sure being a millennia old virgin must be contributing to his friend's moodiness and a good roll in the hay was all he needed. (Dean never claimed to be one for understanding complex emotional turmoil.) He glossed over the fact that random hookups never did much to appease his own troubles, and they were even less fulfilling now that he was in his mid-thirties. Adamantly trying to ignore any doubts he was having, Dean began forming his plan.
* * * * *
As it turned out, there wasn't much to the plan really and since Dean considered himself a pro at picking up chicks, he concluded the simplicity of it is what made it foolproof. With a little nudge and perhaps more than a little alcohol, it wouldn't be too difficult to accomplish. After all, Cas may be awkward and socially inept, but he was hardly unpleasant to look at - for a dude - with his lean body, big blue eyes and full pouty lips...
Not that Dean had ever checked the guy out or anything, he was just incredibly observant. Over all, he was fairly confident Cas' sour mood would soon be a thing of the past.
"Should I be worried?"
The voice startled Dean from his (completely heterosexual) thoughts and his head shot up to look at his over-sized brother. Sam was leaning in the doorway of the bunker's library and watching him with both amusement and slight apprehension. Dean wondered how long Sam had been standing there because it was highly unnatural for someone that large to move around so quietly.
"Worried about what?" Dean asked giving his most convincing I'm-not -up-to-anything face. "I'm just sitting here."
"Uh-huh," Sam replied skeptically, taking a few steps in to the room and crossed his arms over his chest. "Dean, you're in here alone, sitting in a giant leather chair with your fingers steepled ridiculously and a stupid smirk on your face."
Dean put his hands down and scoffed. "Your smirk is stupid. What's your point?"
Sam sighed. "So, either you're a Bond villain or you're planning something. Should I be worried?"
"No!" Dean snapped and stood up from the chair defensively. "I was just thinking about taking Cas to a bar tonight, if you must know. Dude's been mopping around here for weeks and it'd do 'im good to have a few drinks and enjoy himself a little."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Cas has been through a lot, Dean. You know he blames himself for the angels falling. He blames himself for pretty much everything for that matter, and your solution is to teach him how to get shit-faced?"
Dean shrugged. "Works for me."
"No, it doesn't," Sam responded and continued before Dean could argue. "Look, all I'm saying is that we can't begin to understand what Cas is going through and it might take time for him to accept everything that's happened."
"I get it," Dean said, irritated at his brother for trying to poke holes in his brilliant 'Get Cas Laid' plan. "He fucked up again and now he's stuck down in the dirt with the rest of us monkeys, blah, blah, blah. Look, I'm just tryin' to show the guy that there are perks to being human."
"Like excessive drinking?" Sam asked incredulously.
"Sure. And sex." Dean answered smugly.
Sam raised his eyebrows. "So your plan is to get Cas drunk and have sex with him?"
"Exactly!" Dean said quickly, then let the words sink in. "Wait, no." He threw his arms up in frustration. "Dammit, Sammy, what's wrong with you?" Dean cleared his throat and continued ignoring the widening grin on Sam's face. "I was saying I'm going to help him pick up a woman at the bar tonight."
The smile on Sam's face faded and he glared at his brother. "Dean, are you really that oblivious? Cas doesn't need, or probably even want to hook up with some trashy bar fly. He needs... a friend to talk to and help him work out certain things he's feeling right now."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked. He already knew why Cas was in a bad mood and didn't need to go talk about his freakin' feelings. Sam was just being a bigger girl than usual and Dean was not going to let him ruin his perfect plan.
"Really, Dean?" Sam sighed, exasperated. Why was his brother such an idiot? "Don't you think it's past time you and Cas sat down and talked about the thing between you two? Maybe figure it out together? I'm pretty sure all of that unresolved...stuff...is a big part of his problem right now."
"If you're talking about the bullshit with the crypt and angel tablet, it's fine. Cas and I are good. So if you wanna go have a nice girl chat with the dude and play My Little Pony be my guest, Samantha, but this is how I'm going to help him."
"That's not-" Sam ran his hands over his face. He really did not want to be the one to address the big rainbow colored elephant in the room. "I've tried talking to him, Dean. It doesn't help."
"Then what makes you think I'd do any better? You're the one into all that touchy-feely crap."
"Because I'm not you!" Sam snapped. Apparently he was just going to have to come right out and say it. "Cas needs you."
'Whatever that means', Dean thought as he watched Sam turn and leave the library looking thoroughly annoyed for some reason.
"Are you coming with us or not?" Dean called out to his brother's retreating form.
"Yes!"
"Excellent," Dean said letting the smirk return to his face and resisting the urge to tap his finger tips together. Now all he had to do was find a nearby town with a decent department store and pick Cas up a new wardrobe.
* * * * *
Castiel was not overly enthusiastic about Dean's plans for them that evening. Not that Dean was expecting him to be happy about it. He wasn't happy about anything, hence The Plan, but Dean knew he would persuade him to go nonetheless.
Cas' wardrobe was proving to be an unexpected challenge however. Now that he traded in the ever-present suit and trench coat of his angel days for hand-me-down jeans and t-shirts, Cas had become accustomed to his new unkempt, casual look and was in no mood to change.
"I'm perfectly comfortable in what I'm wearing," Cas informed the hunter, not understanding why Dean insisted he put on something "nice" in order to go out for beers. The faded black The Who shirt and well-worn jeans were adequate enough for such a happening. It's not like Dean ever wore anything besides denim and an unnecessary amount of layers anyway. Who was he to talk?
"Come on, Cas," Dean whined. "Please, just put on the pants and shirt I got you. I made sure to pick out dark colored stuff since you're all into that emo crap or whatever these days."
Cas rolled his eyes (something he did quite often, much to Dean's annoyance) but lifted the dark jeans and black short sleeve button-down off the bed to inspect. He noticed they still had the department store tags attached and realized Dean not only went out and bought him brand new clothes, but he actually paid full price for them.
Dean must be up to something.
"Why do we have to leave the bunker to drink?" Cas questioned with a skeptical frown. "There is more than enough beer and various bottles of alcohol here to sufficiently inebriate us. For quite some time I would imagine."
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know, Cas, but the point is to get out of the bunker. We haven't had a case in a while and frankly, we're all getting a bit stir crazy. Sam and Kev are going too; it'll be fun." Dean laid on a charming smile that almost never failed to seal the deal, no matter what the circumstances.
Cas eyed him suspiciously, but gave in with a defeated sigh.
Dean beamed at him victoriously. "I knew you'd give in, buddy," he said with a sly grin and winked. "Now get changed and try to fix your hair or something." Dean raised his arm to run his hand through the dark tangled mess, but stopped midway when he realized what he was doing. He quickly diverted to awkwardly pat Cas on the shoulder instead. "We, uh, we'll leave in an hour.
Cas nodded. Dean still stood with his hand on Cas' shoulder and their eyes locked on each other. Neither said anything else and after a few moments Dean removed his hand from the other man and stepped away. Cas looked almost disappointed when Dean put the distance between them, but Dean decided he was probably imagining it. Without turning his back to Cas (because it would be impolite) Dean backed away slowly until he was at the bedroom door and opened it.
Cas, however, did not wait for Dean to look away before he lifted his threadbare shirt over his head and tossed it to a pile in the corner. Dean made it into the hallway and while his gaze never left Cas (because of the impolite thing) he absolutely was not lingering at the door to watch his friend strip. Nor was he staring at Cas' well-defined (and somehow tanned?) body. His eyes certainly were not traveling to where Cas' slightly too-large jeans hung down low on his waist, exposing the Enochian wards tattooed just above his perfectly shaped hipbones. And Dean definitely wasn't wondering what it would be like to run his hands over said hipbones - in a completely platonic way - when out of nowhere, someone slapped him in the back of the head.
'What the hell? ' Dean was once again snapped out of thoughts he was totally not having.
With a surprised yelp, he pulled the door shut just as Cas was starting to slide his pants down and he turned to find Sam waiting next to him in the hallway. Dean was seriously wondering how open Sam would be to wearing a bell around his neck so he couldn't keep sneaking around the bunker like a goddamn giant ninja.
"What the fuck?"
"Well?" Sam asked failing to suppress a smirk at what he was pretty sure his brother was doing.
"H-He's changing," Dean stuttered out. "Didn't think getting him out of those old clothes would be so damn hard."
Sam snorted. "You should have bought him dinner first."
Dean glared unamused. "Stop being a perv, you know what I mean." Dean could feel the heat in his cheeks and knew he was blushing, but hoped Sam wouldn't notice in the dim light of the hallway. "Besides, technically, I always buy his dinner, bitch."
"Whatever jerk. I wasn't the one watching the guy undress." Sam laughed and made his way to his own bedroom to change into something a little less hunter-y. He didn't like Dean's idea for "cheering" Cas up, but at the same time, he was fairly certain there was only one way the evening was going to go - and he wouldn't dare miss it. Sam sincerely hoped that his idiot brother and their formerly angelic friend would finally get their shit together. The perpetual sexual tension was driving him insane.