Author: thecouchcarrot PM
Slight AU, Human!Cas. Dean/Cas, Sam/OFC. Dean and Cas decide to get Sam back on the dating horse. Well, Dean decides; Cas humors him. Does Sam have any say in the matter? Of course not! Now Complete. Ch.12: Because 67impala demanded it - more boy necking.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Dean W. & Sam W. - Chapters: 12 - Words: 28,195 - Reviews: 235 - Favs: 144 - Follows: 34 - Updated: 08-02-10 - Published: 07-02-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6104870
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Like I said in the summary, this story contains Dean/Cas, Sam/OFCs, Human!Cas. Slight AU: Basically AU from just before the finale on. In this universe, the apocalypse has been successfully ended, and everybody survived it. Cas never got 'sploded, so he's still human, and Sam is totally fine. Dean and Cas are not a thing yet, but. Well. Everybody knows but them. Especially Sam.
I wrote this story in response to the request of LOSTrocker, who pointed out that really, Sam deserves some lovin'. After the way the finale went down, I wholeheartedly agree. We can't let Dean and Cas have all the fun, can we? Okay, we could, but it's not really fair. They're fun hogs.
Finally, please review. It's like, not even joking, straight-up heroin to me. Please feed my terrible, terrible addiction.
It started on a Saturday night. Two Winchesters and a former angel were crammed together in the back seat of a cab, on their way back from a bar. Dean was very drunk and had decided it was too far to walk; Sam was just drunk enough that it didn't occur to him that walking back would be much more pleasant, and a cab had sounded pretty good. Cas was smashed.
At the moment they were all shoved waaay too close together, practically sitting on each other's laps. If you don't know why Sam was beginning to regret his decision, let's just say that sitting knee to knee with his drunk brother while said brother groped another intoxicated man was not his idea of a night on the town.
The bar had been crowded, loud, and smoky – the three things Sam hated most about bars. Dean was always in favor of noisy and packed because it meant he could get rip-roaring drunk and bellow along to the jukebox, which he insisted was an important component of Cas's musical education. And, okay, so maybe all three of them had been shouting along to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" at the top of their lungs, but Dean had been the one flailing on his air guitar (Sam's accompaniment on air drums was hardly worth mentioning. Cas didn't know how to play instruments, so Dean had put him on air microphone). And after the song was over, and they all panted and grinned at each other, Dean and Cas had started really looking at each other and breathing really hard and Sam had suddenly remembered why it was that he hated crowded, sweaty bars.
In case you're wondering, no, the two blockheads hadn't come to terms with their feelings yet. Sam figured it was only a matter of time before they woke up and smelled the manlove, but really. Watching the epic struggle between stubborn denial and unresolved sexual tension unfold was irritating and pretty gross. Half the time he was praying somebody, anybody would make a move, and half the time he was praying they'd keep their heads in the sand for at least the next five minutes. When they finally put two and two together, Sam really didn't want to be anywhere in the near vicinity, and now this bar seemed to be the vicinity. Dean was handsy when he was drunk. Cas was suggestible when he was drunk. They were staring at each other like they were the last two orchestra members on the Titanic, and their options were kiss or drown.
So yeah, getting out of that bar as quickly as possible had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now they were packed like sardines in this stupid taxi, and Dean was trying out the latest party trick he'd taught Cas.
"I-I-I. Wanna rock and roll all nii-i-ight," Dean crooned off-key.
"And party every day," Cas sang automatically, right on cue, like some kind of unconscious reflex.
Dean chuckled. "Man, that's never gonna get old."
"If by 'never' you mean 'in about five minutes,'" Sam muttered to himself, trying to cram himself further into the door.
Dean didn't hear him, however. He was too busy clumsily pawing at Cas and nuzzling at his neck, mumbling, "You show us everything you got, and baby baby that's quite a lot…"
Cas snorted and chided, "Deaaaan. Tickling."
Dean just chuckled and grinned up at him lasciviously. "You drive us wiiild, we'll drive you craaaazay."
"Deeaan," Cas repeated a little softer, a little needier.
Sam gritted his teeth. Please don't, he mentally begged. For the love of God, please don't take this to the next level.
Dean lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, about the quietest he got when he was drunk. "You keep on shouting, you keep on shouting."
And suddenly he launched himself forward and straddled Cas's lap, pumping his fist in the air and belting out, "I! WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NI-I-IGHT!"
"And party every day!"
Sam groaned and rubbed his temple. It was going to be a long ride.
So it started on a Saturday night. But it really started the next morning, when Dean woke up to the moans of a hungover Cas, the sound distorted through the porcelain of the toilet bowl. Sam's bed was empty and already made – the anal retentive little bitch (and Dean meant that in the most affectionate way). Something clicked in his brain and he realized – Sam. Sam was not happy last night. Well, at the beginning he was happy. But at the end… things shouldn't have played out like that. But they kept on happening that way.
It had kind of become a pattern. The three of them would go out to a bar, and they'd all come back together. Dean had a good reason; he was trying to teach Cas about bar culture and the art of picking up women. It was a work in progress, and once Cas was a little more... suave, they were gonna pick up truckloads of chicks together. It just wouldn't be right for the teacher to snag some foxy lady and leave his awkward student to fend for himself and possibly get slapped. But Sam… Sam had no excuse for coming back alone. And it was becoming increasingly apparent that he resented being the habitual third wheel; it was harder and harder to drag him out for drinks, and it took longer and longer to convince him to stay.
Dean sighed. He'd never admit it to Sam's face, but his brother was an attractive man. Just because Dean wasn't throwing girls in his direction like he had before he started working on Cas didn't mean that those girls weren't throwing themselves. He hadn't realized until now exactly how little action Sam had seen since the apocalypse. Considering that the last girl the poor guy trusted turned out to be a backstabbing manipulative bitch (though Dean could have told him that), and he'd found out that he and his one (dead) true love were a match made by a demon, it was understandable that he was a little gun-shy. And now that Dean thought about it, an alarming number of Sam's flings had – ended badly, to put it mildly. Let's see: Jessica? Dead. Meg? Demon, tried to kill him, also dead. Sarah? Alive and human… probably. No way to know for sure. Madison? Werewolf, dead by Sam's own hand. Then they'd both kinda had a hate-thing for Bela, so he wasn't sure if that counted, but she was also dead. And then Ruby; Dean shuddered. It was like Sam was cursed – or at least, he probably thought he was.
And Sam's age-old excuse for his celibacy, that he preferred to have "actual relationships" and shit? It was now null and void. The apocalypse was over. They could stay wherever the hell they wanted, 'til whenever the hell they wanted. If there was some goddamn life-threatening emergency, he and Cas could even potentially leave Sam (temporarily, mind you, none of this let-us-go-our-separate-ways crap), because leaving Sam in the tender lovin' care of some stacked babe was not the same as leaving him to fend for himself. It was the perfect time for Sam to start something.
Therefore, it was clear what Dean and Cas had to do. They had to get Sam back on the dating horse. They had to restore his faith in the healing powers of a roll in the hay. They had to show him that it was possible to have a little fun without horrible cosmic retribution. They had to make Sam remember why it was so awesome to be a young, ripped dude. They had to do it – for Sam.
"Cas," Dean announced, "We are going to get Sam laid."
Cas just retched.