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Title: Diner Death Match: French Fries Are The Ultimate Victor
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 726 words
Summary: Sam nearly has a geekgasm, Dean nearly has a foodgasm, and Castiel comes about his point obliquely. (In which angels have a gender, but Castiel is not a real boy after all.)
Notes: Written for a prompt from jmtorres. In my head, this takes place sometime season five, but definitely after the events of 4x10.


Sam rolled his eyes and put down his turkey and rabbit food sandwich. "Of course Castiel doesn't care if you call him a girl, Dean. Gender essentialism doesn't matter to angels, because they have no gender."

Dean turned to Castiel, though he didn't have far to go. Castiel had opted for the cooler brother's side when he decided to join them at the diner booth. "Is that true, Cas? You're all dickless wonders?"

"No," Castiel said. "We're not."

Dean grinned and turned back to Sam. "See? Under all that meat, Cas is a real boy after all."

Castiel stared blankly at Dean a moment before he said simply, "I'm not."

"What?" Dean asked. "Really?"

Sam leaned forward, his meal forgotten entirely, and Dean wondered if he could steal all the french fries Sam had splurged on for his side for once before Sam noticed. Probably. Sam's attention was rapt, eyes focused on Castiel. "So you actually identify as female, despite having taken a male vessel?"

Castiel seemed to consider a moment before he finally answered with, "I am no more female than I am male."

"I thought you said you weren't genderless," Sam said, expression one of complete and utter academic fascination. Dean suspected Sam wanted to record this conversation and send it to the Pope.

"I'm not." Then, "Your concepts are . . . limited. It isn't an either/or question with merely two answers. If it were, I'd have to answer both, or neither."

"Wow," Sam said, though his distraction didn't stop him from smacking Dean's hand when he decided to go for it and liberate a fry. "That's--wow."

Castiel said, "I understand angels aren't alone in this answer."

"You mean demons are the same?" Sam asked. Dean made another attempt on the fries and was once more rebuffed.

Wryly, Castiel said, "I can't speak for demons, but I meant your fellow human beings. I understand you're just as diverse in range, if not on as wide a scale."

"Gender studies professors would love you," Sam breathed. Dean thought Sam looked a few more sentences away from having a geekgasm.

Castiel took one of Sam's fries, and Sam let him, the traitor, like an angel with his refutations of "gender essentialism" and shit was more worthy than his own brother.

"You're missing the point, Sam," Castiel said. He handed the fry to Dean, because Cas was awesome like that. Their fingers brushed, and Castiel directed an indulgent almost-smile Dean's way. "That being: fornication with a celestial being is not a completely heterosexual act."

"Uh," Sam said, looking between Dean and Castiel, and Dean wondered what his problem was that he was more focused on Castiel assisting in fry theft than on Castiel saying words like fornication. It was serious comedy gold.

"Sure, whatever," Dean happily agreed, because Castiel was handing him several more fries, and this place, though rocking the stereotype right down to greasy spoons, knew what they were doing when it came to oil, salt, and potatoes.

"It would stand to reason," Castiel said, voice gone low, and he wasn't looking at Sam at all anymore, "that, having done so once already, one would not object to doing so again."

Sam looked seriously distressed now. "Restroom!" he said suddenly. "I need to--go use the restroom. Or something. Meet you back at the motel!"

He legged it, and Castiel slid Dean the whole plate of fries.

"You're the best," Dean said, because seriously. Whole plate of fries.

"Am I?" Castiel asked, his expression oddly still considering they were celebrating a victory here. Sam: 0. Dean: A hell of a lot of french fries.

"Yes," Dean said firmly before taking another bite of delicious, delicious victory. "Yes, you are."

Castiel's hand on the nape of Dean's neck, his even nails scratching gently against Dean's skin as one might soothe a cherished pet at the end of a long evening, was unexpected. Castiel was bad at figuring out personal space, but he wasn't generally a touchy-feely sort of angel. More unexpected was Dean's sudden realization as to why Cas was now and why Sam had decided the two of them needed some alone time right this second.

Dean choked.

Fries: 1. Dean: 0.

(Castiel: One mostly oblivious moron who tasted of fried potato. Who was to say whether acquiring Dean was a loss or a victory?)
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