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Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Sometimes Fighting Means Something Else
Author: Wiccanslyr
Recipient: thinlizzy2
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Anna spoiler
Summary: No one was really sure when, or why, the bickering had started, but Bobby knew one thing for sure; He was twelve degrees past sick of it.
Author notes: Thinlizzy2 asked for something with one of the following; matchmaker Bobby, conflicted Cas, first time and initiator Dean, so I tried to give a little bit of all of it! I hope it turned out well and I hope you enjoy! Happy Holidays!

Big thanks to my Beta samara_draven who kept my grammar and punctuation in check and made certain I was making sense!

No one was really sure when or why the bickering had started but Bobby knew one thing for sure; he was twelve degrees past sick of it.

“Dammit you two! Would you just hop in the sack already and get it over with?!” Bobby half dropped, half threw the book in his hands to the desk and stood up from his chair. “If I have to spend my time listening to you two constantly argue and yammer at each other like some old married couple, someone ought to be getting something out of it and it sure ain't me!”

Dean and Castiel stopped bickering about proper ingredients and gave each other disgusted and confused looks respectively then turned back in time to see Bobby's back as it went out the door. He turned around just long enough to growl at them.

“You two knuckle heads can finish this on your own. I'm going out back to help Sam with the supplies. Don't get blood on my floor and don't break anything.”

Then the surly older man was gone.

Castiel's brows were knit together tightly over his blue eyes as if he were trying to work out a complicated mathematic equation. After a moment more he turned his face back to Dean.

“We're not married,” he told the other man matter-of-factly.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Figured that one out all on your own Einstein?”

“Yes,” Cas's response told Dean that he'd not picked up on the intended sarcasm.

“You know Cas, sometimes I start to forget that you're not human and then you open your mouth and feathers fall out.”


“Just forget it,” Dean cut off whatever Castiel had been about to say, “And get back to the research; okay Mr. Literal?”

Castiel's eyes narrowed slightly at Dean as he went back to reading before he returned his attention to the book in his own lap.


“I spoke that language to kings and warriors for over five hundred years Dean. My translation is accurate.” Castiel looked a little hurt as he followed closely behind Dean down the pathway to where Bobby and Sam stood, leaning against the hood of the car.

“I don't give a rat's ass if you helped Noah chisel the Ten Commandments in it, your translation is gibberish!”

“Noah was commanded by God to build an ark before the great flood. He didn't...”

“Shut up Cas!” Dean growled and picked up his pace to pull ahead of the angel.

When they reached the other two men, Sam was hiding his mouth behind the cup of his hand, but it didn't mask the sound of his snickering.

“What's your deal giggles?”

Sam bit down on his lips to get himself under control as he dropped his hand and offered Dean a shake of his moppy-haired head.

“Nothing, nothing; I was just wondering which one of you is the wife.” He was barely able to finish the sentence before he crumbled into fits of laughter, followed by Bobby who clasped at the younger man's shoulder while gasping for air.

“Wives are female. We're both male.” The look on Castiel's face read as if he were slightly concerned for the two cackling men, which only seemed to make them cackle harder and point at him.

He turned to Dean, “Why does everyone think we are married, and that one of us is lacking our male sexual organ?”

Dean just continued to glare at Bobby and his brother for a few long moments before turning on his heels and storming off back toward the house.

“Should we be concerned for their sanity?” Cas called, switching his glance between them and Dean and then back again.


Dawn was sprinkled over the horizon when the wheels of the Impala crunched over the gravel at Bobby's, marking the group's return from their hunt. The doors opened wide with their usual creaking groan that spoke to the one thing Dean neglected about the car. Bobby stepped out from the passenger side before the headlights had completely faded. He slammed the door shut again as Sam stepped out from behind the wheel.

Bobby leaned into the car, his hands pressed flat against the roof as he rolled his gaze upward and around the sky above them.

“Alright you two, we're here. Dean, get your prissy ass zapped back here.”

A moment and a fluttering of wind and wings later, Castiel stood near Bobby's door, an angry pout on his lips. Next to him, looking even angrier, stood Dean; arms held out slightly from his sides. He was covered head to toe in lumpy, purplish-red slime.

They stood in silence, Dean glaring a hole into the side of the angel's face and Cas refusing to acknowledge him, eyes staring forward and arms crossed over his chest. At least, that was, until Bobby opened the front door. It was as if the 'click' of the lock turning had been a starter pistol firing. And they were off.

“I told you your translation was crap!” Dean grumbled loudly as he shuffled forward to follow the other three into the house.

“There was nothing wrong with my translation Dean. The problem arose because you refused to listen to me and your pronunciation was poor,” Cas countered.

“I'll pronunciate your face, you ass!”

“I tried to inform you that holy water wouldn't work in the same way as holy oil.”

“Hey, we were working on a schedule and that stuff's hard to get! Besides, it worked!”

“Yes, AFTER I went and located the proper ingredient!” Cas stopped abruptly, the look on his face making it clear that he'd just said something he hadn't meant to.

By now they were standing in Bobby's living room office and facing each other. Dean's eyes all but bugged out of his head and he took a step closer to Castiel.

“Is THAT why it exploded when I stabbed it?!” the veins in Dean's neck were beginning to stick out and pulsate.

“I had no way of knowing that would happen. If you had just listened to me in the...”

“NO WAY OF KNOWING?! I had to stand around in the cold, in a landfill, covered in monster guts for over an hour because you had no way of knowing?!”

“Yes,” the angel bristled back, even though all he really wanted to do was apologize. “I still don't know why we couldn't return with Sam and Bobby.”

“Because Cas, I didn't want to get ick stew all over the interior, that's why. And you owe me some new,” Dean shifted uncomfortably, his movements making squishy sounds, “...new everything.”

“Fine.” Cas threw up his hands in frustration. He really had no idea why Dean was acting like this, or why it bothered him so that he was. “But don't blame me for you having to stand around and wait. Your love for your car verges on idol worship and I certainly have nothing to do with that.”

“Oh don't you DARE start in on my car!” He raised his hand to point a finger vehemently at Cas. As he did, he watched in fascinated horror as a large glob of monster goo rolled off his extended finger, flew past Castiel and landed right in the middle of Bobby's favorite coffee mug. It impacted the mug with enough wet force to push it backwards and half over the edge of the desk.

Dean stood frozen as he watched the thing teeter, almost in slow motion, for a moment before giving up the ghost and crashing to the floor. The mug shattered loudly across a large portion of the floor. Cas and Dean stared at the broken bits until they heard distinctive, heavy boots approach.

“What in Sam hill is going on in here?” Bobby demanded, lowering his shotgun upon gathering that no monsters or demons were breaking in.

Dean and Castiel spun around to face the other man, raising their hands to point at each other. “HE DID IT!”

Bobby glowered at the two of them for a moment before his eyes fell on the remains of his mug and his blood pressure shot through the top of his head.

“THAT'S IT!” His voice rang out so forcefully that both Dean and Cas gave a start. “You two shit-for-brains follow me!”

When they hesitated he added, “NOW!”


Dean stood staring at the closed, heavy metal door before him. He could not believe that Bobby really had just locked him in the demon bomb shelter; Castiel too. Dean didn't even know there was something that could trap an angel besides holy fire. How long had he been planning to do this? With a low grunt, Dean kicked half-heartedly at the door.

“That's going to harden soon.”

“What?” Dean snapped, much more harshly than he'd intended.

Castiel looked slightly hurt and taken aback, but pressed forward anyway. “The remains you're covered in. They're going to harden soon. You should probably disrobe before that happens.”

Dean looked down at himself and made a face.

“Good idea.” He started carefully removing first is shirt and then his jeans. Luckily his boxer briefs seemed free and clear of the gore so he wasn't forced to stand around completely naked. That would have been totally awkward. Once his clothes were off and lying in a disgusting heap near the wall, Dean moved over to the little utility sink and began trying to wash the bits from his face and hair.

Bent over the sink with his head stuck part way under the faucet; Dean was having a terrible time getting his head clean. Mostly because he couldn't actually see what he was doing and the space between the faucet and his head was too small to really be helpful. Castiel sighed to himself and stepped forward.

“Here, let me help.” He batted Dean's hands away, gently repositioned him and began to run his fingers through Dean's hair as the water flowed over it.

It took a few minutes, even for Cas, to get all the goop out, perhaps a little longer than might have been absolutely necessary really, but he managed and though they wouldn't admit it under questioning, neither of them really minded at all. When he was satisfied that the task was complete he turned off the water and took a few steps back, allowing the other man to stand up.

“Thanks,” Dean intoned as he grabbed the small hand towel that hung near the sink and dried his hair with it the best he could.

“I am always glad to help in any way I can.” There wasn't the smallest hint of sarcasm in the response.

“Yeah, right,” Dean said, all sarcasm and a snort.

“What is your problem Dean?” Castiel couldn't stand it anymore.

“My problem is YOU Cas. You've been real stand-offish lately and I don't like it.”

“Perhaps you would prefer it if Anna had been returned instead of me? I heard through the usual heavenly channels that you found her company and... assistance much preferable to mine.” Castiel said, finally letting go of the thing that had been bothering him for weeks now.

“That's what you're pissed about?” Dean asked, unsure if he was feeling more confused or incredulous. “That ancient history with me and Anna? What the hell Cas?!”

For a moment Castiel looked as if he wasn't going to answer, his mouth turned down at the sides to such extremes that he looked almost muppet-like, then he took a single, heavy step closer to Dean.

I am your Angel Dean. Not Michael, not Uriel and certainly not Anna! I am the one who fought my way through hell for you, who rebelled for you. Who risked everything I am, my place in Heaven for you. For YOU Dean. Not for Sam, not for myself, not for Earth, not even for God. For. You!” He took a moment to stare hard into Dean's eyes and allow his words to sink in before continuing. “I did-- I do all of that, only to discover that you willingly shared such intimacy with ANOTHER ANGEL?! So yes, Dean, yes; I am 'pissed' about that!”

Under normal circumstances Dean would have been amused by Cas's use of air quotes. Instead Dean's head jittered backward slightly on his neck and he spent a good thirty seconds blinking silently at Cas. So many things were running through his mind, not the least of which was wondering if it all meant what he thought it meant. What he'd been waiting for it to mean.

“You...” Dean internally shook himself, “are you saying you want to sleep with me?”

Instead of answering, Castiel allowed his shoulders to slump forward on a sigh and he turned away from Dean. It was the type of gesture that Dean wasn't used to seeing him make. Dean took a step forward and lowered his voice to just above a gravelly whisper, “Cas?”

The moment hung heavy in the air over the two of them, holding both the promise of elation and the agony of disappointment. The angel heaved another resigned sigh.

“Maybe,” he answered over his shoulder without looking at Dean, “it could be... profound.”

“It could be profound?” Dean made a face. “I don't even know what that means.”

Castiel finally turned back around to face Dean and looked the other man directly in the eyes.

“It means, Dean, that you are more than just a charge to me. It means that you have grown beyond being my friend. It means,” he took a breath, “that I care very deeply for you.”

“Care for me?” Dean repeated in a questioning, slightly disbelieving tone.

The angel let out a growl of frustration. It had been difficult enough for him to reconcile his feelings for the young man – in what had been an internal wrestling match of epic, even biblical proportions – without standing on the edge of needing to speak them aloud, but Dean Winchester could be truly, infuriatingly obtuse sometimes and apparently now was going to be no exception.

“It means I love you Dean! That I am in love with you and that yes, if you are going to make love to an angel, I feel that it should be me!”

Dean's lips twisted into a smirk which caused Castiel's brows to knit together and his frown to return. Dean took the final stride and closed the gap between them, allowing his body to, not only invade Castiel's personal space, but to press against him.

“That's all I wanted to hear Cas,” Dean informed him as his hand rose up to cradle the base of his skull.

Dean carefully pulled Castiel's head toward him and it took the soft pressure of Dean's lips brushing across his own for Cas to realize what was happening. When Dean's lips came back for the second time, they found their kiss returned and on the third pass the angel's lips parted and invited Dean inside.


The sun had been up for several hours now – Castiel knew this despite the lack of windows or portals to the outside – which meant that they had been locked away for over twelve hours. Castiel couldn't bring himself to care. He half sat, half lay beside Dean on the small cot watching as the other man slept. He could not help but admire how soft and peaceful his new lover – lover, using that word to describe Dean brought a smile to his lips – looked when in slumber.

“Staring at me when I'm sleeping makes you totally creeptastic, ya know.” Dean's eyes didn't open and his voice sounded heavy with sleep.

“I was not staring Dean. I was observing and admiring. I do not need to sleep, so it gave me something pleasant to do with my time.”

“Yeah, not creepy at all…” Dean chuckled as he opened his eyes to the beautiful, if slightly rumpled, and naked form above him.

“I trust you slept well?” Cas asked, denying the urge to reach out and run his hand through Dean's bed-mussed hair.

“Well enough; guess you wore me out.” Dean smiled suggestively and propped himself up on an arm. “Let's see if it works as a wake-up call.”

Castiel wasn't confused or unsure this time. He knew exactly what Dean meant and he was more than happy to oblige. They both moved toward each other and their lips met hungrily in the middle. Before he knew it, Dean found himself on his back, pulling Cas on top of himself as their kiss deepened and their passion ignited.

They were both so lost in each other that neither recognized the loud clang of the door opening. When a voice rang loudly through the room they sprang apart so violently that Dean hit his head on the wall behind them and Castiel tumbled, ass over tea kettle, onto the floor. Despite their state, they both looked ready to spring into action as they looked toward the door, and the voice that was all but yelling at them.

“It's about damn time! Now if you two idjits are done playing with each other’s parts, we have work to do.” Bobby turned and began to walk away, but turned back after only a few steps. “And don't forget to put some pants on! It's going to take me weeks and a whole lotta whiskey to get the image of angel dong out of my damn head!”