Title: One Does Not Simply Ship Destiel

Rating: M, mostly for language and the very last chapter

Genre: Humor and Romance, mostly.

Pairing: Destiel

Tags/Warnings: M/M, some smut towards the end but mostly fluff and angst, Case Fic, contains Shipper!Sam and Shipper!Charlie :)

A/N: This is my first ever fanfic and feedback is greatly appreciated, guys! So lemme know what you think! (yes, even if it was the worst thing you've ever read in all the years of your existence- although please do try to keep in constructive, I promise I won't get mad). Enjoy!

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The shower's water turned from hot to cold almost instantly, causing Dean to curse and scramble to get out of the water's path. He hit his shin on the shower's weird, built-in shampoo shelf and swore louder. When the cheap shampoo dripped into his eyes and stung them, he didn't even have it left in him to react.

He turned the water off and toweled himself dry.

"Everything okay in there?" Sam asked through the door, a trace of amusement in his voice.

Dean scowled at the door. "Just peachy, Sam," he growled.

He was in a bad mood. Again. Or it was the same, never-ending bad mood. In his line of work, every day was bad in its own way, but lately Dean had just been having more and more of those days that were excruciatingly bad for no reason. Those were the worst, in his opinion, because there was nothing he could do to make things better.

Normally there was a villain. Someone he could blame. Someone to hate. There was yellow-eyes, then Lilith and Ruby, followed by Lucifer, Eve, and Dick. Point is, when there was an enemy to fight, Dean could keep fighting. But with this, he was at a loss. He didn't know where this anger was coming from, so there was no one to blame. And it pissed him off.

He could tell Sam was getting sick of his mood—and he couldn't blame the kid. Hell, he was getting sick of himself. They hadn't had a case in two weeks, and during that time they were stuck with only each other for company. No one else's. They hadn't seen or spoken to any of their friends for far too long—Kevin, Charlie, Garth, Cas.

Dean scowled into the mirror, running his hands through his wet hair. That struck another nerve, just one more thing that was bothering him. Where the hell was Cas, anyway? The angel had been MIA for days. Dean tried not to worry. He knew his angel could take care of himself, but—

Did…did he just think of Cas as his angel? Well that was weird.

He shook his head as if he could physically expel the thought, threw a t-shirt on, and left the bathroom. Sam was talking on the phone, hunched over the small table by the door. He had his thinking face on, brows furrowed and frown plastered on his face. He tucked his too-long hair behind his ears and glanced at Dean.

"Uh-huh. You think its demons?" he asked into the receiver.

Wondering who Sam was talking to, Dean cocked his head to the side curiously—a habit he annoyingly picked up from everyone's favorite angel. He turned back toward the bathroom. "Jesus Christ!"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean's choice of words. He had appeared only a foot away from Dean, as per usual. "Dean," he said by way of greeting.

"Personal space, Cas," Dean croaked, trying to regain his composure. He didn't like being surprised by angels. He didn't like it when he turned around to find a pair of large, stern, blue eyes boring into his own. He didn't like feeling the angelic heat radiating from his favorite trench coat.

"Sorry," Cas apologized, taking a small step backward, still close enough for Dean to feel his warmth.

Sam nodded a hello at Cas before taking his phone with him into the hall.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean demanded angrily as the door closed behind his brother.

"I—" Castiel stopped, his head tilting slightly, "I'ts only been in heaven four days since I last stopped by."

"Oh," Dean said, realizing Cas was right. He noticed Castiel staring at him intently.

"If you would like me to check in with you more often—"

"What? No, you're good. It just felt like longer, I guess. You know, time goes slower when you're bored out of your fucking mind and all that."

"The speed of time's progression does not change, Dean," Cas said, looking at the hunter like he'd sprouted a second head.

"Obviously, dude. You know what I mean," Dean said. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "On second thought, you probably don't. Time feels like it's slower when you're upset and it...flies when you're having fun?'"

"You're upset?" Cas asked, focusing on the part of Dean's explanation that made sense to him.

"Yes. I mean no. I'm fine, Cas. It's been a while since Sammy and I have landed a case, and we're both just a little out of it."

"If you're bored, you can always help me with work in heaven," Castiel offered.

Dean squinted at the angel. "What?"

Castiel's lips twitched into a smile under Dean's intense scrutiny, and Dean suddenly let out a loud laugh.

"Cas, was that a joke?"

Cas was looking pleased with himself. "See, Dean? I am learning. I'm funny enough to be a Winchester now."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, man. I'm impressed. You're like the Dr. Phil of comedy," he laughed, clapping Cas on the arm. The angel glowed under Dean's praise.

Castiel's childishly proud expression snapped Dean out of his bad mood. He chuckled as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

If there was one thing Dean could always count on to cheer him up, it was Castiel and his inability to grasp pop culture references. It had become a habit of Dean's to drop as many references as possible during conversations with Cas. It was funny to him, seeing the all-powerful angel in a state of such utter confusion.

It started off innocently—Dean used a lot of references in his daily speech, and at first he would honestly forget that Cas had no idea what he was talking about. But then he purposely started making references—well aware Cas wouldn't understand them—just to see the head tilt, narrowed eyes, and slight pout…

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Sam came back in, relaxing when he saw the massive grin on Dean's face. He'd felt bad leaving Cas alone with Dean when he was…PMS-ing, but apparently Dean's shower had done his mood a world of good.

"Hey, Cas. Dean. Get this—that was Doug on the other line."

"Doug?" Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Really? I haven't seen him since...I don't even know. Way before Stanford."

"Right? I don't even know how he got our number."

"Who is Doug?" Cas asked.

"He's an old hunter friend of our dad's," Dean answered.

"Apparently, he's been retired for a few years. But he, you know, always keeps an eye out for weird stuff. He has a job for us."

"Thank God. Where is it?"

"Northern Wisconsin. It's about a day's drive from here, I think."

"Awesome. We'll head out bright and early tomorrow morning?" Dean asked, moving to pack his things.

Dean brushed closely past Castiel, not noticing how Castiel stopped breathing. Sam noticed. He'd been noticing a lot of things recently. Things he'd laughed off at first, but it was getting harder and harder to deny what he saw, as much as he really wished he could deny it.

His brother was in love with an angel. And the angel loved his brother back. It was weird. And messed up. But it was so crazy that it just might work—if the two lovebirds ever went for it. All they ever did was skirt around each other, looking but not touching.

"Huh," he said, thinking out loud. He regretted saying anything when both Cas and Dean turned to him attentively.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"Uh, nothing," Sam smiled, "I just figured out part of the crossword puzzle I was working on earlier."

Dean made a face and returned to his packing, muttering something under his breath about his "geeky brother."

"It's a shame you have to head back to heaven so soon, Cas," Sam sighed dramatically, "We miss spending time with you, man."

There it was. If he wasn't watching for it, he would've missed it. For a split second, Dean froze, every muscle in his body tense, his eyes flashing up to Cas. To his credit, he recovered quickly. Sam fought off a smirk.

"Well, maybe-maybe heaven can function without me for a couple of days, if you'd like assistance..." he hesitated, glancing over at Dean.

Sam wanted to throw something at Dean. Ask him to join us, idiot!

Dean looked up to find them both staring at him. "You wanna tag along with us, Cas? Get away from those feathery douche bags for a while?"

Hallelujah.

"I think that's a great idea," Sam agreed. "Whatever this thing is we're hunting, it's really powerful—according to Doug, it's taken out every hunter that goes after it—and since you're already down here, do you maybe wanna tag along?

Cas nodded, his lips pressing together in what was the Castiel-version of a smile. "I'd be happy to join you."

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In the morning, Cas looked on with his customary stoicism as the brothers packed their things into the Impala, his electric blue eyes boring into Dean's—and occasionally Sam's – back.

"Cas, do you wanna do something useful?" Dean snapped.

"Of course, Dean. What would you like me to do?"

Dean blinked once in surprise, not expecting Castiel to comply. "Um…I don't know. Go check us out of the motel or something."

Cas hesitated, narrowing his eyes, torn between wanting to appease Dean and not knowing what it was Dean wanted him to do. "I don't—"

"Don't worry about it," Sam came to Castiel's rescue, shooting Dean what Castiel had come to consider as his 'play nice' look. "I'll go check us out."

Dean shifted uncomfortably after Sam left, leaning against the Impala. He looked Cas up and down. "So how are things in heaven, anyway?" he asked eventually.

"Things are fine," Cas nodded.

"Great." Another silence fell. "Don't you just love our little chats, Cas?" Castiel got the sense that he was being sarcastic. A car pulled up to park beside the Impala and a man climbed out.

"Did you catch the game the other night?" Dean asked the man, nodding at his jersey.

.

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"But Dean, you can't catch a televised sports game, it's an event, an abstract concept—"

"Yeah, I know that, Cas. It's just what people say, okay? I know it doesn't make sense."

Sam could hear them bickering before he even turned the corner. He rolled his eyes. Get a room already.

"I will never understand humans," Cas sighed as Sam came into view.

"Maybe. But you love us anyway," Dean teased with a wink.

Castiel glanced at the human, rolling his eyes in a remarkably Dean-like gesture. "Yes. I suppose I do."

Sam cleared his throat loudly.

"What's your problem?" Dean asked him. "We all set to go, Sammy?"

"Uh…yeah," Sam said, looking from Dean to Cas and back again with a small smile.

"Shut up, Sam."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You were giving me a look. Just—in the car. You too, Cas—get your winged ass in the back seat. Let's blow this Popsicle stand," Dean said. He threw up a hand to silence the angel before Cas could ask what he meant by that.

Sam smiled to himself as he slid into the Impala. There was a difference between the Dean that was a jerk because he had no other way of showing how fond he was of you and the Dean who was a jerk because he was genuinely in a bad mood and wanted to lash out. Sam had seen way too much of the latter recently. This Dean was definitely an improvement.

Sam's looked into the rear view mirror, where he met Cas' eyes. He gave Cas an encouraging smile, actually soliciting a smile in return.

Dean pulled onto the highway, leaving the small Illinois town behind.

He liked this. This was good—how things should be. Yeah, they still hunted monsters for a living—that was weird, and there was a freaking angel sitting in the back seat, but things were relatively normal. As normal as things could get. Sam loved days like these. He loved that the only things he had to plague his mind were Dean's off-key humming along to the stereo and his brother's overwhelming sexual tension with the angel in the backseat.

Which is undeniably what it was. As far as Sam knew, Dean didn't realize it yet and Cas sure as hell didn't get it. But Sam knew his brother better than anyone else—possibly including Dean himself—and he had seen that look in his brother's eyes way too many times, almost always in situations that made Sam want to claw his eyes out afterward.

Now that he'd noticed it, it was all he could notice, and he had no freaking idea how he hadn't seen it sooner. Seriously. Their stolen glances were making Sam feel sexually frustrated. He'd found himself internally screaming JUST KISS ALREADY whenever Cas and Dean were in the same room as each other. Dean, however, was stubborn, and Castiel was oblivious.

Sam knew from the beginning what he would have to do. He knew they'd never get together on their own, and so it was his duty as the friend and younger brother—especially after everything Dean had done for him—to get Dean and Castiel to admit their feelings for each other, no matter how weird the situation was and no matter how much work it was bound to take on his end.

Dean turned down the song that was blaring through the Impala's speakers—Ramblin' Man by the Allman Brothers, one of his all-time favorites. "So what's the deal with this case?" he asked, his eyes fixed in the rearview mirror.

Sam twisted to glance over his shoulder. There was nothing interesting happening on the road that could have Dean so transfixed. In the back seat, Cas was looking out the window with a vaguely intrigued expression as cars flew past in the opposite direction.

"Dude. Do you ever watch the road?" Sam asked, grinning from ear to ear. "I think we're way more likely to die in a car crash than at the hands of any monster or demon."

"I'm a great driver," Dean said, his gaze flying to the car in front of them when Cas looked away from the window.

"You do seem to get distracted a lot when you drive," the angel agreed, leaning forward to join the conversation.

"Cas, you've never even driven. You don't get to be a part of this argument."

Cas huffed indignantly and Sam let out a loud laugh, which made even Dean smile. "What were you looking at anyway?"

Dean actually blushed at the question. "Nothing. You never answered my question—the case. What's going on? Why'd Doug call us?"

"Right. There's been a string of really weird stuff happening up around a town called Eaton—"

"Weird how?"

"I was getting to that. Erratic weather, dead livestock. Men have been going missing for decades. The few that return come back completely insane."

"That does sound like demons," Cas said.

"Hold up," Dean squinted at the road, "Decades? Why are we just hearing about this now?"

"We're not the first hunters Doug has sent after this thing, Dean. Apparently it's been on Doug's radar for years, but everyone he's sent has either gone missing or crazy, just like the other vics."

"Oh. Great. Thanks, Doug," Dean grumbled.