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The Deep End

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“Dean, this isn’t a good idea.”

Cas stopped a few feet from the door, shoulders slumped, the unhappiest look on his face that Dean had seen there in a while.

“It’s a great idea,” he corrected. “C’mon, Cas. You wanted to learn how to interview witnesses? This is how you learn.”

He adjusted the collar of Cas’s suit jacket, glad he’d persuaded him out of the trench coat. If they were pretending to be FBI, it would have fit. But right now they were just two guys, out for a drink after a long day at work. Just in the suit, tie loose, top button undone, Cas looked like he badly needed a little liquid relaxation.

Hopefully there’d be a lot of others in the same frame of mind, none of whom would notice they were being pumped for info – awkwardly – by a guy who wasn’t getting drunk no matter how much alcohol he downed. It was the perfect situation for Cas to practice on.

Satisfied, he nudged Cas towards the door. “I’ll be nearby,” he said. “You’ll do fine.”


For the third time in ten minutes, Cas pried his tie out of Freddy’s hand. “Please don’t do that.”

Freddy grinned; he immediately caught hold of the tie again and tugged playfully on the end. “It’s a nice tie,” he said, words slurred together. “It brings out the blue of your eyes.”

Cas sighed and tried to steer the conversation – such as it was – back to the matter at hand. “You said you saw the girl who was murdered an hour before her body was found.”

“You’ve got a nice body under that suit, I bet.”

“Technically it’s a vessel.”

“Huh. What’s a vessel?”

“It’s….” Cas trailed off as Freddy’s other hand, the one not crumpling his tie, cupped his hip and started to inch its way around and down. “There’s no reason for you to be touching me.”

“Oh, there’s lots of reasons, fella. C’mon, can’t you be a little friendlier?”

“I’m not your friend.”

“The night is young.”

“You need to move your hand.”


Dean had picked a booth near the door, old habits, and because from there he could keep a good eye on Cas. The angel hadn’t been happy when Dean had set him loose but it was how he’d learned. His dad had let him listen in once and then threw him in the deep end.

Cas was smart – his only problems were a lack of confidence, and recent events hadn’t helped, and general confusion over human behaviour.

The only way Cas would get used to that was to be around some. He had a high degree of empathy, which helped, but nothing made up for experience.

This, though, wasn’t the experience Dean had planned for.

He’d hung back at first, aware Cas could take care of himself and sure that a drunk fifty something with a beer belly probably posed no threat to an angel. But each leer, each uninvited touch, each sign of Cas’s increasing discomfort made it damn hard to stay seated. He didn’t want Cas to think he’d no faith in him. All the same, he was so damned closed to going over there and just –

Then the guy’s hand came to rest on Cas’s hip and by the time Dean was on his feet, had slid south, grabbed the angel’s ass and squeezed.

Dean was across the room like he was the one with wings. He grabbed the guy’s arm and wrenched it clear of Cas, shoving the guy back for good measure.

“Dean,” Cas said, tone caught being protest and relief.

Dean grabbed his hand. “You,” he said. “With me. Now. And you?”

The drunk guy glared at him huffily. “Yeah?”

Cas’s hand squeezed around his, and Dean let his angel’s touch mollify him at least a little.

He turned and tugged Cas after him, ignoring the stares they were getting from other patrons. Fuck the drunk, and fuck them too. Not a single one had shown any notice when Cas had been getting groped, but the chance of a fight? Well, that had caught their attention.

Dean shouldered the door to the rest room open and did a quick check that all the cubicles were empty.

“Get over here,” he demanded.

Cas gave him a curious look. “I wasn’t finished interviewing that man.”

“Yeah, you are, now get. Over. Here.”

Dean beckoned to him, and maybe something on his face gave away his intent because Cas came closer, slowly. Out of patience, Dean let him come so far and then grabbed his jacket and yanked him in the rest of the way.

“He’d no business putting his hands on you.” He turned them around and pushed Cas against the wall, kissing him, one hand shifting to cup the back of his head and the other settling where somebody else’s damn paw had been only a few minutes before. “Lucky I don’t go out there and…”

Cas silenced him with a kiss of his own. Damn, the angel might still be inexperienced about social situations, but at this kind of interaction he’d proven to be a fast learner.

Dean liked to credit himself, as well, for being a pretty good teacher.

He worked at shoving Cas’s coat off his shoulders, but the kissing was distracting him from undoing his shirt buttons. With a frustrated snarl, Dean just tugged the shirt open and the buttons popped off in all directions.

Cas broke away with an annoyed “Dean!”

Dean shrugged at him. “Like you can’t just mojo them back on again.”

“That isn’t the-“

Dean kissed him again, using his own tactic against him, but they were too far along to keep that up. He turned Cas, leaned him forward so he could brace his hands on the sink.

“You good?” It had taken him a while to get used to Cas not needing any prep. They did it anyway, sometimes, because nothing beat seeing Cas come apart just from Dean’s fingers in his ass, but right now Dean was officially out of patience.

“Just…” Cas glanced back over his shoulder at him. “Hurry up before someone comes in.”

Dean grinned. He hadn’t locked the door because he’d figured most people had picked up on why they’d come in here. It wasn’t the type of joint to protest too much about a quickie in the restroom. All the same, Cas didn’t have to worry about him dragging this out. He reached around and undid Cas’s pants and tugged them and his underwear down.

The first push in was tight, angel or not, and Dean had to hold himself there and wait for Cas to relax enough for him to move. Which he did, hard, fast, and the satisfied noises coming from Cas told him he was definitely at the right pace. He heard a sharp crack and looked down to see tiny jagged lines spreading across the porcelain beneath Cas’s fingers.

Cas had bust light bulbs and shattered TV screens before – Dean had learned to turn off the lights and the set before he got busy with the angel – but breaking an actual sink was a new one.

Course, he’d never fucked Cas over one before. It was more than a turn on seeing the effect he was having.

That was when the door opened.

Dean looked over, ready to pull out and act if it was anybody looking for trouble, but instead he found himself eye to eye with the drunk idiot who’d been pawing Cas at the bar. The door had shut behind him and now he was standing there, open mouthed, watching as Dean barely slowed.

Cas’s head was down, and Dean knew from experience he’d have his eyes shut. Some part of Cas seemed to – not close down, but just narrow its focus. They’d worked at that, when initially Cas had been so distracted by angel radio, and fears and worries, and had been too tense for Dean to even kiss him let alone anything else. Now, Cas concentrated on who he was with, what he was feeling, trusting in Dean to concentrate on everything else.

Dean stared the guy down, and he swallowed hard then went into one of the cubicles.

Dean watched his reflection cautiously in the mirror, noted how hunched over his shoulders were. Yeah, he’d be no trouble. But all the same…

He leaned forward, stuttering his pace, but pushing in deeper at the same time, and drawing a groan from Cas. “Let me hear you, angel,” he whispered. “I want you loud.”

Cas shook his head, no doubt conscious that they were in a public place – if lost enough in what they were doing to be unaware they had an uninvited guest – until Dean pressed a kiss lightly to the centre of his back.

Cas’s wings might be invisible to him, might be damaged, but they were still sensitive as Hell, and he knew how to get his angel worked up.

Cas arched back, and came almost screaming Dean’s name. Dean rode him through it and then collapsed forward against him as he came too. Cas was strong enough to hold them both up, though Dean noticed that Cas had broken off part of the sink which was now lying in a chunk on the floor.

“I’m not paying for that,” he chuckled, and then straightened Cas up. He tugged up his pants, kissing him as he fastened them. Somehow it was easier to do the dressing while distracted than the undressing.

The toilet flushing startled Cas and he jerked back in time to see his would be seducer stepping out of the cubicle. “Dean,” he hissed.

Dean slid an arm around his shoulders, and rested his forehead against the angel’s. “Just in case you had a doubt, mister. Now walk on.”

The drunk stumbled twice in his hurry to leave, and Dean followed his exit with a wide grin. That faded when he looked back at Cas, who was standing there glaring at him.

“Oh, come on,” Dean protested. “Anyway, I can’t take you seriously when you’re half naked.”

“I’m not half naked,” Cas said.

Dean waved a hand at the buttons lying scattered on the floor. “Half,” he insisted.

Cas frowned, and a moment later his shirt was rebuttoned and his jacket back on. He still looked fucked, though, and Dean felt a tiny spark of possessive pride that everybody out there would know what they’d been doing in here whether that lard ass opened his mouth about it or not.

“That was inappropriate,” Cas said.

Dean traced a hand down Cas’s chest. “So maybe I wanted him to know you’re mine.”

“You know I’m yours,” Cas said. He caught Dean’s hand, locked his fingers around the hunter’s. “And I know it too. I don’t care about what anyone else does, or doesn’t.”

Yes, he knew it, but sometimes it helped to hear Cas say it anyway. This time it was Cas who took his hand and led him, calmly through the bar and to the door, never once paying anyone else there any mind.

Dean couldn’t help grinning at the drunk guy just the once though on the way out.