disclaimer: not mine.

prompt: "SAM/CASTIEL discussing something brainy while dean pigs out and yells at the t.v. nearby!", and I kind of failed at that, but, you know. It's Sassy! There is a TV involved!


"Get a room," Dean says, somewhere between disgusted and way too smug.

Castiel squints at him.

"We already have one," he points out. They do – it's a shabby, two-bed room in Freeport, West Virginia that isn't so much nicotine-stained as it is, well, a nicotine stain. Dean is watching something that looks suspiciously like Doctor Sexy, MD on one of the motel's crappy, twelve-inch TVs, and Sam and Castiel are doing research. Or, well. Castiel is telling Sam something that's probably important about angels. Sam is too busy staring at his mouth to actually filter out a word of what he's actually saying, which is probably going to be a problem. Sam doesn't think he's had it this bad since, well, he doesn't really want to think about the last time he had it this bad, because he thinks the last time he had it this bad was probably around the time he met Jess.

"Yeah, well," Dean says, grinning like the asshole he is, "if you two end up doing some cloud-seeding, I don't want to be around for it."

Sam huffs out a laugh. "Cloud-seeding? Dean -"

Beside him, Castiel has gone back to reading his book, or at least he's staring very intently at the pages. Sam's mouth goes dry.

"Cas," he begins, and feels a bit like dying when his voice comes out gruffer than usual. He isn't sure, but Castiel is starting to look slightly pink. Dean crows triumphantly, and Sam thinks, fuck it.

Fuck it. Dean is being a dick, Sam may or may not be in love with an angel of the Lord, and it's the fucking Apocalypse. Sam can give as good as he gets in the dick-department, though – and isn't that an unfortunately worded sentence – so he gets up, packs his stuff, and grabs hold of Castiel's arm.

"Come on," he says, dragging him with him.

The stunned look on Dean's face makes up for everything.