#judgy/shippy sam is my favorite character so sue me

[haus-seeblick]

What Happens at the Library...

Another ~combo fic~ for Suptober! Days 19, 20, 22: “Eighty-Sixed,” “Library Hours,” and “Birthday.”

Rating: Mature; Ship: Castiel/Dean Winchester; WC: 3,895

Summary: Dean and Sam's laptops are destroyed while they’re on a case. They head to a library to continue their research, much to Dean's chagrin - it's his birthday, after all. Not how he wants to be celebrating. But at least Cas joins them, and what happens in the stacks... doesn't stay in the stacks, it turns out.

Tags: Fluff, Kissing, First Kiss, Not using the library for its intended purpose, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, And they're finally acting on it, Sam Winchester Loves Research, Brotherly Squabbling, Dean and Cas scandalize a librarian, Dean and Cas use their words, It's Dean's birthday, Canon Divergence - Unspecified Timeline, One Shot, Unresolved case in the background

Read on AO3 or below!

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“Can’t we just go buy new laptops?” Dean throws himself onto Baby’s front seat and huffs. He knows he’s pouting like a kid, but really can’t bring himself to care. “Researching at the library takes forever.”

Sam rolls his eyes and slides much more gracefully into the passenger seat. “It’s for one case, Dean. You’ll survive. Plus, Cas is gonna meet us there and you know how fast he can read.”

If Dean’s mood brightens fractionally at the mention of Cas, Sam doesn’t need to know.

“Still not how I wanna spend my birthday,” he grumbles. He starts the car with as much irritable flare as he can muster and signals to merge onto the road,  sighing dramatically when there’s not an immediate gap in traffic. The Impala’s tires squeal when he hits the gas.

“Jeez, take it easy,” Sam says. “That excited to see Cas, huh?”

Dean nearly misses the next turn and yanks the wheel hastily. “That’s got nothing— shut up. I’m just mad about our laptops.” He waves apologetically at the driver of the car he cut off.

Sam grimaces and pulls the remains of a laptop out of the backpack at his feet. It’s mangled, wires dangling and keys missing, the screen cracked and fried. He lets out a strangled whine and gazes at the broken machine as if it’s a deceased family member. “Fucking witches.”

“They knew just how to hurt you,” Dean says, and receives a punch to the shoulder. “Ow. Bitch.”

Sam flips him off for good measure. “They got you, too, jerk. You have to set foot in a library again. Will you burst into flames?”

“You’re so funny.” Dean digs his cell phone out of his pocket and waves it jauntily at Sam, glancing over at him. “Why can’t we just research on our phones? They’re basically computers.”

Sam looks at him as if he’s lost his mind. “The screens are way too small for optimal reading, Dean.” He snatches the phone out of Dean’s hand and clicks it on, as if out of habit. Dean can’t grab it back in time, not without swerving the Impala onto the shoulder.

“Oh,” Sam says, voice so carefully restrained it sounds like a taut rubber band. “Oh. Wow. Nice lock screen.”

To hell with the shoulder — Dean lunges across the seat and pries the phone from Sam’s grubby hands. “It’s a joke. A— a dare. He dared me.” He violently shoves the phone back into his pocket and straightens out the car.  

A squeak of pure mirth escapes Sam’s pressed lips. “Cas— uh, Cas dared you to set a picture of him in a cowboy hat as your lock screen?”

“Yes.” Dean nods, eyes firmly on the road. He forces his hands to stay still on the wheel. “He thought it’d be funny. You know how he is.”

“I do,” Sam says. “That’s why I’m confused.” He ducks, laughing, as Dean blindly slaps at his face to shut him up. “Okay, okay, I surrender! Just ‘cause it’s your birthday.”

Dean withdraws his hand and Sam doesn’t retaliate, but does spend the rest of the drive chuckling randomly to himself. Dean can’t crank the music high enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The library in the next town over is an old multi-storied brick building with ivy creeping up the walls and filmy-paned windows. Dean sighs as he pulls them into the parking lot. He doesn’t love research on a good day, but reverting to their old library routine? Torture.

Sam, conversely, practically leaps out of the car and grabs various notepads from his backpack before slamming the door. “Let’s get started! They close at eight so we have almost the whole day.”

“Wonderful,” Dean mutters and trails after his brother. Sam looks back at him with a slightly softer expression.

“Hey, we’ll get something good for dinner later, okay? Lots of pie. I’ll even have some with you.”

Dean sighs and pushes open the heavy front door. “Yeah, yeah. I know a bribe when I see one.” But pie is something to look forward to. Maybe Cas will join them.

They settle in at a free table near the back of the stacks on the third floor, within quick reach of the “Folklore” and “Mythology” sections, as well as “Ancient History” — Sam’s not totally sure what they’ll need, but “Isn’t it great we have access to all of this?”

Dean grumbles and starts flipping through the first book Sam hands him. He’d almost forgotten how to use an index. Damn, Google, making me soft.

About two hours in — or three, who knows — they’ve still got nothing that matches the traits of the creature that the laptop-destroying coven of witches is protecting. Sam leans back in his seat and groans, rubbing his eyes, and Dean drops his forehead onto the page of the book he’s reading. The paper is cool under his skin at first, but then just gets warm and clammy. He contemplates throwing the heavy tome through a window and letting in the cold January breeze. The air’s so stagnant it’s like breathing pudding.

As if his thoughts were broadcasted on a loudspeaker — which, well, in this case it’s not too far off the mark — the trademark thwup thwup of wings whips the air and sends pages flying in all directions. Dean sits up and takes a deep breath, his hair ruffling as he looks up at his best friend suddenly standing over him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, voice pitched low as if he’s intimately aware of library etiquette. “Happy birthday. I am here to read.” His trenchcoat is smooth as ever, no sign that he’s just been hurtling through the ether, though his hair is sticking in all directions and the blue tie is, of course, backwards. It’s the perfect combination of put-together and undone, Dean thinks, and Cas wears it well. His warmth- and research-addled brain briefly wonders what it’d be like to mess up the trenchcoat a little. Maybe remove it.

Belatedly, he realizes he’s spent several seconds too long silently staring up at Cas with a dazed expression on his face. Cas hasn’t looked away, though; he’s just standing there looking right back at Dean’s, mouth completely neutral but a smile playing around the edges of his eyes. His very blue — even in the yellowish light of the library — eyes.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam pipes up from the other end of the table, waving cheerfully but a little pointedly. “Good to see you.”

Dean quickly glances away and Cas blinks and looks over at Sam as if just noting his presence. “Ah. Hello, Sam.” He regards the table. It’s strewn with papers and books lying open over each other’s spines. “I see you’ve been busy already. Any luck in your search?”

While Sam launches into an explanation of what they’ve found (nothing — Dean’s not sure how his brother can manage to talk that much about nothing), Dean takes the opportunity to scrub a hand over his face and blow out a hot breath. Cas’ presence has his heart pumping just a little harder; though he could totally attribute that to the abruptness of his arrival. That’s probably it, actually. He nods to himself.

“Glad you agree, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean jerks his head up. Sam and Cas are both looking at him with expectant faces.

“Um.” Dean nods some more. “Yeah. Definitely agree.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You and Cas will go comb the stacks for more material, and I’ll keep reading. When I get tired, Cas can take over with his super speed.”

Cas tips his chin in agreement, formal as ever. He glances around the room, taking in the shelves. “Based on what I see laid out here, Dean, you are lacking in eighteenth-century folklore. Let’s start there.” Without waiting for a reply, he sweeps away, the trenchcoat billowing behind him as he strides purposefully toward a back corner. A dark corner. Dean sends Sam a glare that says I know what you’re doing, and Sam just returns a self-satisfied smile before pointedly pulling a notepad toward himself and burying his nose back into the book he was poring over before Cas arrived.

Dean sighs and shakes out his arms, bouncing up to his toes a few times before following Cas into the stacks. The cavernous room narrows down to the single dim aisle that Cas just disappeared into. There are a few dusty bulbs high on the cavernous ceiling, but this part of the library obviously doesn’t see a lot of traffic. Dean’s eyes adjust to the low light as he passes behind the shelves. Cas is at the far end of the aisle; it’s a dead end and he’s standing right up against the wall, a large tome already open and supported over both forearms. With his head tipped down, all Dean can see is his messy shadowy hair and the tip of his sharp nose.

He’s an angel, Dean thinks, not for the first time and not for the last. He’s an honest-to-God (hah) angel, reading a library book. His lips curl into one of those small smiles that sappy people might call “fond” but that he just attributes to amusement about the weirdness of Cas’ existence.

Said weird angel looks up and tilts his head. “Is something wrong?” he whispers.

“Nope.” Dean wanders down the aisle toward him, brushing his fingertips over the spines of old books as he goes. He sucks in a small breath and steels himself. “Just— uh, just glad you’re here is all. Y’know, ‘cause you read so fast.”

Cas regards him, inscrutable, then nods as if satisfied. “I see.” He straightens his head as Dean reaches him, and they stand there for a moment, standing closer together than Dean would dare in the daylight. The buttons of Dean’s flannel are just brushing the edges of Cas’ book, tracing the outline of his knuckles. Cas fidgets his fingers a bit, shifting them across the page.

“I’m glad to be here, too. To help, and also to see you. On your birthday.” His voice is barely a breath, somehow still deep even as a whisper. Dean feels the air puff against his face with the words. He flicks his gaze down to Cas’ lips, then up again to his eyes. Still blue, even in the gloom.

Somehow, in this silent, secluded corner, shielded by walls of paper and ink, some of Dean’s bravado slips away. Some of his bullshit, too. It’s not really a conscious decision; it’s like he’s in a trance, his brain just far enough removed from the real world to function as it truly wants, and he lifts his hand, ever so slowly, and cups Cas’ elbow with just enough pressure to feel the body heat through the layers of coat and suit jacket and dress shirt.

He leans in. Cas blinks. Just once. But Dean figures the angel’s seen enough TV at this point, heard enough stories, hell, watched enough porn, and Dean’s being as clear as he can allow himself to be. It works. Cas’ breath hitches, ever so slightly, and he leans forward too, across the scant inches between them. Their noses brush. Dean closes his eyes. It might be dim, but for this he needs darkness. Just for this first time. He tips his head forward a fraction more, and finally, finally, he’s there.

Cas’ lips are dry and warm. They’re alive. They’re real, and Dean’s kissing them. It’s the most chaste kiss he’s ever had, no tongue and barely any pressure, but by god if his heart isn’t pounding right out of his ears.

Cas is so close. Dean has watched him from afar, catalogued and memorized every movement and expression and quirk; and he’s been close before, too, but never like this. This is tender and purposeful and god, so hot, even in its simplicity. Cas keeps tilting forward, pressing their mouths together more firmly. His hands are still wrapped around the top of his book and knuckles dig into Dean’s stomach. It twinges and Dean breathes out a laugh. He pulls back just a centimeter.

“Ditch the book,” he whispers. Talking feels nearly sacrilegious. Cas nods, tiny jerks of his chin, pupils huge from the darkness and excitement. That’s because of me, Dean thinks with a thrill.

He’s not sure when he first fell in love with Cas. Or whatever this is. He’s always thought the dude was hot — even before he fully recognized that that’s something he notices about dudes — but somewhere in between battles and betrayals and conversations over tumblers of whiskey, that spark of attraction turned into a full-on affliction. At least that’s what it felt like every time Cas left, and during every period without him.

Right now, though? It feels like a freaking miracle.

Cas closes the book, the binding scraping against Dean’s shirt, and reaches over to lay it on the shelf. His newly-free hands hover between them for a moment. He meets Dean’s eyes. Then he slowly places his palms on either side of Dean’s waist, two warm bookends holding Dean together at his core.

“I enjoy kissing you,” Cas whispers, so quietly that if Dean didn’t see his lips forming the words, he wouldn’t have registered them. Dean slides his hand from Cas’ elbow up to his neck, sucking in a breath when his fingers meet the hot skin there. He traces the curl of hair behind Cas’ ear.

“Me, too.”

Cas’ eyes flare, as if hearing Dean say it — even more than the actual kissing — finally confirmed something for him. He grips Dean’s waist, long fingers digging in, and hauls him back across the scant centimeters between them to crash their lips together again.

It’s not chaste this time. Cas kisses like it’s his last night on earth, desperately and thoroughly. He parts his lips right away, catching Dean’s lower lip between his teeth and grazing along it before pressing forward and slipping his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Dean can hardly stifle the groan that bubbles up in his throat. Cas has a long tongue. Dean gives back as good as he gets, curling his fingers around the back of Cas’ neck and wrapping his other arm around his waist. They’re pressed together from knee to chest, the space between them a veritable furnace. Dean swears he can feel Cas’ heart thumping alongside his own, even through layers of clothing.

They kiss and kiss, so long that Dean simultaneously feels like he’s in a daze, yet is acutely aware of every single millisecond. It’s slick and hot and goosebump-inducing, and Cas is making tiny noises with every breath that he manages to take between melting Dean with his tongue and his lips. The stubble around Cas’ mouth is making Dean’s skin burn a little bit, but somehow that makes everything even better, an extra little bit of proof that this is actually happening, not just another dream in a long string of dreams.

They’re in a rhythm, lips pressing and releasing in a dance that’s getting Dean more than a little worked up, and when he crowds Cas even tighter against the wall, he feels unmistakable proof against his thigh that Cas is just as affected as he is.

“Oh god,” he chokes out on an exhale, and Cas seems to realize what’s going on because he snakes his arms fully around Dean’s waist and tugs him in, practically molding their hips together. Dean feels goosebumps rise on Cas’ neck.

They grind together and Dean swears this is the hottest thing he has ever, in all his life, experienced. Cas is so strong, and solid, and into it, and the fact that Dean has waited this fucking long to be right here makes his entire body fizz with elation. His toes curl in his boots. He slips his hand off Cas’ neck to brace his palm against the wall, leaning his whole weight into Cas and rolling his hips—

“Hey! You can’t do that here.”

The whole world screeches to a halt. Dean and Cas freeze mid-kiss, breath halted and eyes wide.

“Sirs, you need to leave. This is a public library.”

Dean slides his hand off the wall and slowly peeks over his shoulder. An elderly librarian in a pink cardigan is standing at the end of the aisle, hands on her hips and tapping her foot in a judgemental staccato. Dean swallows and tries for his best apologetic smile, fully aware that it’s negated by his undoubtedly fucked-out appearance. Sure enough, the librarian just glares harder. Nodding hastily, Dean turns back to Cas — who looks mortified — and subtly adjusts the front of his pants.

“Close your trenchcoat and walk in front of me,” he mumbles as low as he can into Cas’ ear and Cas complies, pulling his coat closed in front of him and sliding past Dean to lead the way down the aisle. The librarian tuts and shakes her head as they pass her.

“You should be ashamed.” She actually shakes her finger. “There are children here.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Dean mutters and hurriedly follows Cas into the brightness of the main room. He’s intensely aware that his lips are red and puffy and his flannel is more than a bit askew.

They approach the table where Sam’s reading, and the librarian trailing them chooses that moment to announce, loudly, “I don’t want to see either of you in here again.”

Sam startles and looks up from his book, and the journey his face takes upon seeing them is epic. Surprise morphs into confusion, then concern, but the moment he fully takes in their appearance it’s a battle between mirth and disapproval, his lips twitching vigorously. He quickly leans his elbow on the table and shields his face with his palm, eyes fixed on his book, a clear signal: do not talk to me. Dean has half a mind to bring him down with them, because getting kicked out of a library would bother Sam so much, but — he sighs — they do need the research. Luckily, Cas seems to have the same thought and he passes Sam without another glance.

The librarian escorts them all the way to the heavy front doors and observes them leaving. Dean can feel her reproachful gaze on the back of his neck all the way down the stone steps.

Once they’re in the parking lot, Dean stops and blows out a huge breath before laughter bubbles up and he bends over, bracing his hands on his knees.

“Holy shit,” he wheezes, tilting his head up to peer at Cas. “We just got eighty-sixed by a grandma.”

Cas smooths down the front of his coat. His face is totally blank, the only evidence of their activities the faint pinkness still surrounding his mouth. He’s regarding some trees in the distance, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Hey,” Dean says, face falling as he straightens up. “You good?”

The breeze ruffles Cas’ hair. It’s the only part of his body that’s moving.

Oh.

A sinking, sludgy pressure fills Dean’s chest. He scuffs his boot on the ground. “You— uh, you havin’ second thoughts?” His cheeks burn and he tenses up, ready to take off to the car at the first hint of humiliating rejection. He can’t take that in front of Cas. No way. Cas can’t know how deep—

“No,” Cas says, quiet but firm. “I told you I enjoyed kissing you.”

Some of the tightness around Dean’s lungs eases. No immediate need to run. Still, though, something’s up — this closed-off, tentative Cas is nothing like the one who’d just given him the best makeout session of his life.

“So, uh— what’s up?” It’s lame, but it’s all he can come up with, faced with Cas’ blank stoicism.

Cas turns to him. There’s that tilted head, that furrowed brow. “Is that all you wanted?”

Taken aback, Dean stares at him. “What?”

“The kissing,” Cas explains. “Is that all you want? From— With me?”

“Oh,” Dean says softly. Here it is. For one wild second, his brain races through all the possible outcomes of lying, of saying that of course it’s all he wanted, just a little liplocking between buddies, blowing off some steam, that was fun, right? and immediately feels sick to his stomach. He can’t go back. Now that he knows what it’s like to kiss Cas, to be held tight against his chest, he can’t throw away the chance to feel that again. Even if Cas just wants kissing and nothing else, it’ll be enough. Yeah, Dean tells himself. That would be enough.

“I like you,” he says.

What the fuck? Is he in middle school? His face is so hot it must be glowing.

Cas tilts his head even further. “...Yes. I like you, too, Dean. A great deal.”

This is torture. Dean clears his throat and gazes skyward. “No, I mean, I want more with you, Cas. More of— of everything. The kissing, and the, uh, the touching, and the hanging out. I just— I just want you around, man.”

He has never sounded so dumb, but when he drops his eyes back to Cas’ face, he’s startled to see an actual, real smile. Not one of those “barely there” or “just around the eyes” smiles, no; it’s a genuine grin, teeth and all. Cas’ eyes are crinkled almost shut with the force of it.

“I want that, too, Dean.”  

Dean breathes out an involuntary laugh, a little shaky with relief and elation. “Awesome.”

Cas sidles closer, catching Dean’s hand with his own. He leans in, and before Dean can react, places a single, soft kiss to his lips. “You make me very happy,” Cas murmurs, and Dean is overflowing, this is too much and everything he’s ever wanted.

“I’m a lucky bastard,” he whispers back.

Cas chuckles. “You haven’t gotten lucky yet.” He steps back and sort-of winks, grinning again at Dean’s incredulous expression. “Yes, Dean. I know what getting lucky means. Would you like to?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Dean declares, grabbing Cas’ arm and dragging him toward the car. “Sam’s gonna be outta commission ‘til tonight, we got time.”

“Excellent,” Cas says. They hurry purposefully toward the car, and Deans’ just fumbling for his keys when Cas’ phone chimes. Cas pulls it out of his pocket. “It’s a text from Sam.” He swipes the screen. “Sam says… that I should ask to see your lock screen. What is that?”

Dean freezes with the key halfway in the lock. Fucking Sam. Though, on second thought, this might be his little brother’s weird attempt at wingmanship. Dean knows that Sam’s picked up on his feelings about Cas, as subtle as he’s tried to be. It’s— ugh, Dean thinks. Kinda nice that he’s supportive. He opens the door. “Uh, it’s nothing. I’ll show you later.”

“Okay, Dean,” Cas says dubiously and stows his phone again. He slides into the passenger seat, scooting all the way over on the bench so their legs are pressed together. Dean grins and starts the car.

He got out of doing research, actually had fun in a library, doesn’t have to worry about witches for a couple hours, and now he’s gonna get lucky with Cas. Maybe they’ll even find a good burger joint for dinner, once Sam is done.

This is gonna be a great birthday.