Operation make Dean jealous

Three.

A week had passed since Dean had left for a case with Bobby, insisting that they could handle it without Sam's help. With Dean out of the bunker, Sam decided to take a calculated approach to their plan.

On a sunny afternoon, Sam suggested to Castiel, "how about we go golfing, Cas? It's a great way to relax." Castiel, always eager to learn more about humanity, agreed without much hesitation. Little did he know that golfing with Sam was not going to be a typical experience.

As they stepped onto the lush green golf course, Sam couldn't help but stifle a laugh at Castiel's attempts to grasp the complexities of the sport. They played three rounds, and predictably, Sam won each one. Castiel, however, didn't seem too bothered by his lack of skill. Instead, he muttered, "why does anyone play this to relax? It's the most non-relaxing game ever."

Upon returning to the bunker, they found Dean already at the kitchen table, nursing a beer. Sam grabbed two more beers from the refrigerator and joined him. "How was the job?" Sam asked, taking a sip.

Dean sighed, his tired eyes reflecting the weariness of their recent hunt. "Took longer than expected — turns out there was a werewolf turning every poor bastard he could lay his eyes on."

Sam leaned in, his curiosity piqued, "why was this guy turning people?"

Dean's irritation flared, and he replied curtly, "I didn't really stick around to ask questions when he was trying to kill me, Sam."

Said man rolled his eyes, his annoyance obvious, but he decided not to press.

After a few beats of silence Dean speaks first. "So, what were you two off doing? Another dinner date?"

"No, uh, we were actually, uh, golfing."

Dean's expression turned unconvinced, and his voice carried a mix of disbelief and anger as he asked, "golfing?"

Sam nodded casually, "mhm. I took him golfing."

"Golfing?" Dean repeated again, disbelief dripping from his words.

Castiel chimed in, coming to Sams defense, "Sam taught me."

"He taught you," Dean parroted, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Castiel tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes locking onto Deans. "Yes, Dean. Is that a problem?"

Deans jaw clenched but he kept his mouth firmly shut. Yeah he had a problem with his brother taking his - something - out and teaching him his favorite game.

"I taught him the stance, you know, standing behind him, fixing his posture, and showing him how to swing—"

"That's enough!" Dean bellowed, pushing up and off the bench, storming out of the kitchen in a huff. "Golf," he says loudly, "he doesn't even like golf!"

Sam and Castiel exchanged wide-eyed glances, a shared realization dawning upon them. They had just uncovered the perfect way to get under Deans skin, and it involved a golf course and a lot of not-so-innocent innuendos. This plan was far from over.

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