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Dean thinks it's hilarious that Dad has an angel. Dean'd never believed in them before, of course, but he can't say he's all that surprised by what they turn out to be like. Of course angels are non-fluffy, non-cuddly, non-Precious-Moments-looking creatures that need meatsuits to walk around the Earth. Of course they'd be dour, stuck-up bastards, and the most dour, stuck-up bastard of them all gets assigned to Dad, who's been pretty much making a habit of being uncowed by every threat they've been throwing his way.
Castiel makes a face. He didn't used make any sort of face before, but it's obvious from the put-upon expression he has now that Dad's been getting to him.
"You cannot ignore me, John," Castiel says. "There is no doubt that Lilith's plan involves you and Sam--"
"And I said," Dad says, pressing a finger to Castiel's forehead and forcing him that extra few inches out of his personal space, "I will deal with Lilith my way. If I'm going to be Heaven's general, you better damn well respect my decisions."
"I do, John," Castiel says, bristling. "But you are forgetting your place. I did not raise you from Perdition just so that you may follow your own--"
"Then send me back," Dad says. He leans down that his gaze is level with Castiel's. The staring match is one of Dean's favorites, and he bites his lip to stop himself from snickering out loud. Castiel's face flushes with the emotion he's not supposed to have, and Dad shrugs, this round won again. "Yeah, I thought so."
"Come on," Dean says, stepping towards Castiel the moment Dad turns his back to check their guns. "What'd I tell you about Dad?"
Castiel does not even blink when Dean's arm slides across his shoulders. "You said that force is not the way to get his attention."
"Yep," Dean says, squeezing a little. "Guess you didn't remember that, huh."
"My strategy was erroneous," he says, and Dad snorts. Castiel continues to glare at John's back, but he is otherwise perfectly still, not responding the press of Dean's chest against his side. The lack of response is not because he's choosing to ignore Dean -- it's because he doesn't think there's anything unusual about Dean being where he is.
Yeah, Dean's making a sport of it. After getting over the initial irritation of having been finger-zapped into unconsciousness the first night he and Dad saw Castiel in the barn, Dean's learned that poking an angel with no clue of human social norms can be pretty damn fun.
"Dean," Sam says, finally speaking up. He's been in a snit all day, for whatever reason, and now he's sighing reproachfully at Dean. "You're being inappropriate."
Castiel looks confused, and he turns his face to look Dean, almost going cross-eyed as he attempts to focus on Dean's cheek. "I don't understand what that means. Regardless, I am more concerned that your father is not heeding my advice."
"Well, maybe it's because you guys haven't been upfront with us," Sam says, and uh-oh, Dean knows where this is going. Sam really did think that angels would be fluffy and cuddly, so he hasn't been enjoying the real deal at all. "You're not telling us everything you know, so how can you expect us to believe whatever you say?"
"That is what faith is," Castiel says.
Sam stands up, immediately gathering his things from the table. Dean sighs and steps away from Castiel to block Sam's exit. "Come on, Sam, not now."
"I've got things to do," Sam says tightly. He lowers his voice to a whisper, though Dean's pretty sure angels have superhearing, "He likes it better when I'm not around."
"Let him go, Dean," Dad says coolly. There's a challenge in his gaze when he looks at Sam. "If he wants to go, he should."
Dean tries to grab at Sam's sleeve, but he's fast, slipping out the door before Dean can get a word in.
"Sam worries me as well," Castiel says, after a few beats of awkward silence.
"He's a big boy, he can take of himself," Dad says.
"He is not a boy," Castiel says reproachfully, "Neither can he completely take care of himself. I did warn you about that, John."
"You are the last person I'm going to take advice about how I should treat my son," Dad snaps irritably. He points a finger at Dean. "Get him out of here."
"Yes, sir," Dean says. Castiel opens his mouth to protest, but Dean gets a hand around a forearm and tugs firmly. "Come on," he says softly, "There's a hell of a lot you need to understand about my family, but mainly: the bull in a china shop way? Doesn't work."
"I am not a bull, Dean," Castiel says, but he lets himself be pulled out of the motel room anyway.