kim47: (spn; we weren't doing anything sam)
[personal profile] kim47
Title: Theory and Practice
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~1600
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Beta: [ profile] callmejude <3

Summary: for [ profile] hobnailedboots's prompt over at [ profile] comment_fic prompt: Green-eyed epiphany. Dean teaches Cas how to flirt. Cas is really rather good at it...

A/N: Jesus Christ, that season finale... anyway, this is just a little bit of AU fluffiness.

"There, that one in the corner. With the light brown hair." Dean points discreetly, trying not to draw the guy’s attention.

Cas rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his drink, then hops off the barstool and makes his way over to the man in the corner of the bar. Dean watches with a smirk as Cas stands a fraction too close to the man, a hand resting lightly on his arm, clearly turning the full force of those baby blues on him.

It seems like Dean's quest to get his best friend laid is finally going to be fulfilled.

The whole time Dean had known him (since the very beginning of Freshman year, actually) Cas had never been much interested in sex. Almost all the way through college. it was like he was too busy studying or training to give it much thought. To Dean, that was totally bizarre (who's ever too busy to think about sex?) but whatever. To each his own and all that shit. So he was a little surprised when Cas came to him, three months into their Senior year and asked Dean to help him "score". He even did the air-quote thing, for Christ’s sake.

Dean had choked on his beer, slapped him on the back, and announced the grand beginning of plan Get Cas Laid.


The Plan got off to an inauspicious start.

The problem was Cas really didn't know how to flirt. The first time he went up to a girl in a bar, he lasted five minutes before getting a drink thrown in his face and a slap across his cheek.

It was kind of hilarious, actually. Cas stalked back over to him, glaring at Dean as he snickered into his glass of whiskey.

"I don't understand what I did wrong." Cas sounded all aggrieved and put-upon, as if the world had let him down in some fundamental way.

"Dude, you told her you thought she had reasonably pleasing proportions and that she should come home with you for one night of what would hopefully be satisfying sex, but you couldn't guarantee it since you'd never done it before."

Cas wrinkled his nose. "The problem is that I told her the truth?"

Dean finished his drink and started to herd Cas out of the bar.

"C'mon man, we got a lot of work to do."


Dean taught him how to stand, how to smile, what to say, how to say it. Cas complained endlessly ("The entire premise is ridiculous. Things would be much easier if people simply discussed sex in a frank, honest fashion. You should be able to walk up to someone, clearly state your intentions, and get an immediate response." "Cas?" "Yes, Dean?" "Shut up.") but he caught on quick.

And, once he'd mastered the basics, he seemed to like practising on Dean. They'd be in the middle of a normal conversation, when Cas would suddenly be up in his space, looking up at him from under his dark lashes, licking his lips, touching Dean's arm.

It was a little weird, sure, having his best friend practise flirting with him on an almost daily basis, but he quickly got used to it. Once or twice he even found himself responding automatically, dropping his eyes suggestively, shifting his body to match up with Cas's, half-reaching out to run his fingers along Cas's arm. He didn't think much of it because, hey, Cas was fucking attractive, and Dean? Dean would flirt with anything that moves. Flirting was basically his ground state of social interaction. So if he sometimes watched Cas's lips, or leaned into his casual touches, it really wasn't a big deal.


They went out a few times, to practise on what Cas called "normal people", which Dean decided not to take offense to. Cas was a stiff at first, came across a bit too studied, but after a couple of weeks he could flirt with the best of them. And Dean was proud, like a fucking teacher watching his star pupil shine. It was actually kind of embarrassing.

Which brings them to tonight.

Tonight is The Night. Cas is absolutely on his game. This guy is hooked; he's practically drooling, leaning way, way into Cas's space, hanging on his every word. Christ, Cas may not have been a natural, but he's good at this. Give him a few more months and he'll probably be better than Dean.

The thing about Cas, Dean muses, as he watches bar-guy lick his lips, is that he looks all sweet and innocent; slender frame, dark hair, pale skin. Huge, huge blue eyes. At first glance you kinda want to give him a hug and feed him soup. Then you get up close, and realise he's got all this unexpected muscle tone, could probably manhandle you real easy, and he's got this quiet kind of intensity that sorts hypnotising, makes you just want to... Yeah. Dean shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink.

Dean continues to watch them and now he's paying attention to this other guy, this guy who it seems Cas will be taking home. Dean had picked him out almost at random, a reasonably good-looking, apparently-single guy for Cas to practise his flirting on. But now Dean is looking at him properly and, well, dude's got kind of a weak chin, his hair's a little greasy, and his body really isn't anything to write home about. And sure, Dean's always been pretty chilled about sex, thinks people should just let it be what it is and stop sentimentalizing it, but he can't help thinking Cas deserves to have his first time be pretty fucking spectacular. And this guy? Doesn't really look up to the task.

Cas moves in a little closer, ducks his head to say something into the man's ear. As Dean watches, the man rests his hand on the small of Cas's back, and Dean's stomach does this weird, squirming thing. He's suddenly uncomfortable, and he's about to signal the bartender for another drink when Cas straightens up and, sliding his hand around the man's neck, pulls him into a slow, deep kiss.

Dean's first thought is holy shit, that is really fucking hot, because it is, it's one of the sexiest things Dean's ever seen.

Dean's second thought is fuck no, no way that slimy-haired douche is putting his tongue in Cas's mouth, no one gets to do that but me.


Dean blinks.

That’s really not the sort of think he normally thinks about Cas. Also, he doesn't actually get to do that, and right now all he can think is that it's a crying fucking shame that he doesn't.

He doesn't really realize what he's doing, he just knows that he's moving, that he's in front of them, that the guy stops kissing Cas (moron) to say caustically, "Can I help you, buddy?" Dean just glares at him, grabs Cas by the arm and steers him out of the bar. He doesn't stop until they're out in the Square, the music from the bar just a faint hum in the background.

"Dean, what the hell? I'm finally getting somewhere with someone and you - " Cas stops talking, probably because Dean stops moving, turns to face Cas, opens his mouth and has absolutely nothing to say. Shit.


He tries again.

"Uh, Cas, see, the thing is - " and fuck, he's actually freaking out now, has no idea what he's even thinking except that Cas kissing that guy = bad and Dean kissing Cas = good. Somehow, miraculously, it must show on his face, because Cas's eyes widen, and he looks surprised, relieved, and intensely irritated, all at the same time.

"Oh my God, Dean," he says, rolling his eyes, then he tugs Dean forward by his coat collar and kisses him.

Holy shit, Cas is kissing him, and Dean is so, so on board with this. He wraps his arms around Cas's waist, one hand resting smugly where unacceptable-bar-dude's had been, holding Cas close against him. He opens his mouth the moment Cas licks at it, slides his tongue along Cas's, loving the feel of them moving against each other. Cas, for all his newfound flirting expertise, kisses like a novice; he doesn't quite know what to do with his tongue or his hands, and he bites Dean's lip by accident. When he realises, however, this makes Dean moan (totally involuntarily), he does it again.

Far too soon, Cas pulls away. His lips are slick with Dean's saliva and his cheeks are flushed and oh God, if Dean doesn't get to have sex with him in the next five minutes, he's pretty sure he's going to die.

"Idiot," Cas says, but he sounds mostly fond. "You couldn't tell I was flirting with you?"

Dean stares at him.

"Um, what? I mean, yes, I noticed, I'm not stupid. But you were just practising! You were doing what I'd been teaching you, I thought it was just..." Dean would be flailing his arms around right now if they weren't so happy to stay tucked around Cas's waist.

Cas rolls his eyes again, then kisses Dean on the mouth, slick and slow. "I find you very attractive and would like to have sex with you," he says. "Can we please go have sex now?"

Dean honest-to-god whimpers, before he manages to breathe out a "yes, please".

"See?" Cas says, and now he's tugging Dean in the direction of his apartment, a smirk on his face. "My way is better."


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October 2012

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