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It’s late when the Impala pulls up to the bunker. He’s hoping to slip in quietly and save the major confrontations until tomorrow, so he forgoes the noise of parking in the garage. When he pushes the door open the main room is dark. He heaves a silent breath and relaxes. He’ll have time to compose himself before he has to deal with what’s left of his relationship with Sammy and Cas.
He imagines he’ll be awake for a while, so he grabs two beers on the way to his room. In spite of himself he starts to feel grateful he’ll be sleeping in his own bed tonight. He pushes into his dark room. As soon as his bag slips from his shoulder to his bed, he senses that he’s not alone. His knife is out before his eyes are able to settle on the intruder. When he really sees him, sitting calmly on his bed, eyes wide with surprise, Dean drops his arms in shock, “Cas...What the hell are you doing in here?”
“You’re home,” Cas says, standing up, not quite stating it like a question, but with an odd note in his voice.
Dean is too tired to do this right now. He was counting on hours still before he had to face the two people he can't stop disappointing. He flicks on the lamp and looks at Cas. Cas wanted him to come home. Cas doesn’t seem mad at him. As much as he knows he doesn’t deserve the comfort he finds in that, he doesn’t want Cas to leave. “Cas, it’s late and I’m tired. Either go find somewhere else to sit and be creepy or sit down and take one of these beers.”
Cas continues to stand perfectly still and Dean can’t decide if he misses Cas’ more human demeanor or is relieved to have Cas back like this, familiar and unearthly. Dean throws his bag to the ground and sits at the head of the bed, leaning back against the wall. He opens both beers and holds one out to Cas.
Cas moves closer to the bed and takes the beer from Dean’s hand, but makes no move to sit. Dean tries to laugh, but it comes out a strange disappointed noise. “In or out, buddy, I don’t care what you do, but I really can’t with the standing and staring right now.”
Cas looks at him consideringly. He always looks at him that way, like he's considering him. Dean feels exposed. His fight or flight reflexes are starting to kick in, but then Cas sits on the bed next to him and copies his position. Dean relaxes in a way he hasn’t since he had to kick Cas out of the bunker. He wonders why he always feels better with Cas within touching distance. Maybe it feels good because it’s a punishment to be so close and not let himself touch. That thought makes his eyes close and he leans his head back, blowing out a long exhale and redirecting his thoughts.
“You don’t look good. Are you ok?” Cas offers.
“It doesn’t matter how I am. I’m dealing with it. It’s not for you or Sam to worry about.”
Cas frowns at him then down at the open beer bottle in his hands. “Dean,” Cas begins, carefully, “it is not for you to decide what Sam and I worry about. Sam is a grown man. He...he knows his own mind and makes his own choices. And I...I make my own choices as well.” Cas looks up and meets Dean’s eyes again, but this time he offers a small smile, “I have always chosen you, Dean. That has not changed, nor will it.”
Dean knows they’re doing that thing again, where they keep eye contact for too long, but he doesn’t know what to say and he can’t figure out how to look away. Cas solves the problem by turning his head to set down his beer and asking, “Do you want to talk about Sam?”
Dean feels it like a punch to the gut. He wants to and he doesn’t. Part of him wants to hear how angry Sam is, how little he needs or wants him here. But another part, a selfish part wants to put that off a while longer. Besides, he’s pretty sure it’ll hurt more if he lets Sammy do it himself. “No. Not right now. Lets talk about you. How are you doing. And what the hell were you doing in here?”
He almost laughs at the look on Cas’ face. He looks like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He might even be blushing, but it’s hard to tell in the dim light. “What is it, man? Looking for my porn stash?” He waggles eyebrows enthusiastically to try to lighten the mood.
“Don’t be stupid. I have observed humanity for a very long time and have perfect recall, I have no need for your ‘aids.’” Cas makes the air quotes around aids and Dean feels his ears flushing. Sure, he was trying to get a rise out of Cas, but now he’s left wondering if Cas learned to masturbate while he was human or if it’s something he’s always done. It’s not a question he’s going to ask.
He clears his throat carefully, “Ok, Mr. Perfect recall, how bout you recall what you were doing in my room earlier?”
Cas doesn’t answer immediately, but it’s clear he’s going to, so Dean relaxes and waits. “When we spoke on the phone...you said you would come home. But I found waiting and wondering when you would arrive tedious. During the day Sam and I have been researching, but at night, when Sam is sleeping...it’s just that I haven’t wanted to leave him while he’s healing, but I also feel restless. I wonder what is happening with the angels and I...I think I miss sleeping. Not the sleep itself, but the oblivion of not thinking for a while.” Cas pauses and takes a breath, “I tried laying down in the room Sam gave me, but it felt, I guess the best way to describe it is lonely.” Dean can see Cas is choosing his words carefully, glancing up occasionally at Dean, but then back down to his lap. “One night, I wandered in here. I don’t know why I did it, but I felt different when I sat here. This room has so much of you in it, it almost felt like you were here with me. Since then, when I’ve felt restless or frustrated or...lonely...I come and sit in here until I feel…,” he finishes with a shrug, “better.”
Dean doesn’t trust his voice, so he doesn’t reply. He can’t shut off his internal monologue, though, which is offering him lots of terrible advice on how to respond. He rubs his hand over his face and remembers his still untouched beer in his lap. He takes a long pull, sets it on the table, and keeps his eyes straight ahead.
“It’s 12:30,” Cas finally says. Dean glances at him, “Yeah, so?”
“It’s your birthday.”
“What? Is it? How do you even know that?”
“Why would you think I wouldn’t know your birthday?” Cas tilts his head and narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to puzzle Dean out.
“I don’t know, man. I didn’t even know it was my birthday, that’s all.”
“Yes, but one of us thinks you deserve good things. One of us thinks you are worthy of being cared for. One of us…” Cas stops abruptly, frowns, and goes on, “I think we both know that person is not you, but I wish,” he stops again.
Dean’s heart seems to be beating too fast. He can feel his fight or flight response kicking in. He wants to cover Cas’ mouth and keep all his words inside or he wants to dig the words out of Cas and bury himself in them. He closes his eyes and does nothing.
He feels the bed move and when he opens his eyes again, Cas has turned and is facing him, one leg drawn up underneath him and one hanging off the bed. He’s too close. He wants to push him off the bed, turn this into a fight. It’s something he’s good at, an expert really, it would be so easy, but he’s frozen in place under the weight of Cas’ gaze.
“I am going to tell you what I told your brother. You are cracked, but not broken. You have made mistakes, but you are not a villain. You matter, Dean Winchester, to a great many of people, some who know you and some who don’t. I will not let you throw your life away in a vain attempt to atone for something that is nothing more than a lie you are telling yourself to avoid dealing with the truth. You have made mistakes, so have I, and so has Sam. I’m not telling you not to atone for those mistakes, but make sure you know what they are first. Talk to your brother. Work it out between you. Blaming yourself and running away isn’t for our benefit. It just protects you from what you fear the most. If you could see yourself like I see you, you’d never fear that.” Somewhere in the middle of Cas’ rant his hands found Dean’s cheeks. His face is so close Dean can feel his breath on his face.
“What is it you think I fear most, Cas?” Dean asks in a whisper, too close to the edge to care that his voice sounds wrecked.
“Sam leaving you. Me leaving you. Dean, Sam let you go, but he wasn’t the one doing the leaving. I let you go, but only because I knew Sam needed me. I know I have left before, but that’s never been about you. It’s been about me and my mistakes. While I was human I learned to look at my actions differently. I have fucked up about as much as one being can, but I want to do better. I will do better. And I...I...if you’ll let me, I want to do better by your side...And Sam’s of course.”
“Cas…” his face is so close, too close, “I can’t...I don’t think...What if I’m not the man you think I am?” He looks into Cas’ eyes and sees only calm acceptance. Cas knows the worst of him and can still look at him like he’s something precious.
“I want to give you something for your birthday,” Cas says calmly, as if he hasn’t just been peeling back Dean’s skin with his teeth, leaving him exposed and shaking, “but I don’t know if you’ll like it. If you don’t, please just try to accept it for what it is.”
Dean eyes him skeptically. He’s not sure this evening can get weirder, but then Cas’ moves in between his legs and his lips are on his eyelids, one kiss for each, then one for each cheek. They are chaste kisses, no more than a simple press of his lips, but Dean feels the blood rush to his face and his breathing stills. Cas' lips hover gently over Dean’s own lips, not pressing in, just...waiting. Dean recognizes it for what it is. Cas has made his position clear. It’s Dean’s turn. Dean just has to decide if he’s going to take what's being offered or continue on an endless quest to punish himself.
He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s tired of fighting Cas. He’s tired of drawing comfort and pain in equal measure from his presence. Maybe if he hadn’t already felt Cas' lips he could say no. He could turn away and continue to punish himself, but those brief kisses have left him weak. He moves his head, just the fraction needed to bring their lips together. Cas presses in then and kisses in earnest. Dean lets out a tiny broken noise before remembering if there’s anything he understands it’s this, the hot slide of lips on lips, and he begins to apply himself to the task at hand.
Now it’s Cas turn to moan, and Dean takes a small moment to appreciate the sound, before he’s struck with the very real desire to press their bodies together and discover all the noises Cas is capable of making. Dean has just enough presence of mind to think that maybe an emotionally compromised roll in the hay before he’s even apologized to Sammy might not be the smartest move he could make right now, if he wants to do this right. He’s never wanted to do something right more than this, whatever this is that he’s doing with Cas.
He moves his mouth away from Cas, meaning to pull back and use his words, but he finds himself kissing down Cas’ neck until he’s nestled at his collar bone, kissing and biting and sucking, unable to stop just yet. Cas throws his head back and buries his fingers in Dean’s hair just hard enough to hurt. Dean’s whole body is suddenly a very active participant, and if he’s going to stop, he’d better do it now.
He peels his lips from Cas’ skin and lifts his head. Cas is beautiful like this. More beautiful than Dean had imagined, when he’d let himself indulge in thinking of Cas like this, flushed and pliant. When Cas realizes Dean isn’t moving back in he opens his eyes and looks at Dean like he might be considering smiting. “Cas, wait. I want...I want this, with you. I do, you don’t even know.”
Cas unexpectedly rolls his hips down into Dean’s, eliciting an shocked moan from Dean, and says prissily, “I do have some idea.”
“Ok, fine, I get it hot-shot, you were human for a couple of months and now you’re the expert,” but he leans forward to press a kiss to Cas’ cheek to take the sting out of the words. “It’s just, I don’t just want this,” he exacts revenge by pressing up into Cas this time and sliding as lewdly as possible, “I want this,” he finishes gesturing between the two of them trying to indicate what he means.
“Are those two things mutually exclusive? Because, I thought, generally, they were compatible,” Cas says with a small frown.
“No, I mean, yes, they are. I want both, just...I need to...I want to be square with Sammy before we...it doesn’t feel right to be here, like this, when I still don’t know if Sammy’s even going to want me to stay.”
Cas brings a hand to Dean’s face, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb gently along the bones under his eye. "Sam is angry, but he will want you to stay.” He sits up, slipping off Dean. “You need sleep. I can go.” He starts to rise, but Dean grabs his wrist holding him in place.
“I don’t want you to go. Would you mind…” Dean falters, unsure he’s capable of asking for what he wants.
“You want me to stay? You want me to watch over you while you sleep?” Cas finishes for him with a small, but uncharacteristic smirk.
“Yeah. Somehow it seems less creepy now,” Dean laughs.
Cas doesn’t reply, just lays himself out on Dean’s bed, still and flat, staring at the ceiling.
“If you’re gonna stay, we should do it right. Slide under the covers.” Dean doesn’t dare ask Cas to lose the suit, not if he’s committed to his plan to talk to Sammy before he gives himself this. Dean sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his boots before sliding in next to him. “Cas, dude, you’re gonna have to relax a little. I know you don’t need to sleep, but do you think you can, uh, loosen up a little?”
Cas turns and gives Dean a look that very clearly says he thinks Dean is an idiot. “I was, I think, sufficiently ‘loose’ before, but you asked to stop, and...to be honest, the lines are not clear to me. I need to know what you want.”
Dean squeezes his eyes shut. He knows what he wants, but he doesn’t think it is something he can ask for. It’s probably more than he should ask for anyway, considering he’s just left Cas with a pair of angelic blue balls. Anyway, the last hour has contained quite enough personal growth without him asking another grown man to spoon him. “It’s fine, Cas. You just do what you feel comfortable with. Forget I said anything.” He forces himself to relax. He knows he can do this. He turns on his side, facing away from Cas, trying to breathe evenly.
They both lay there quietly. Dean starts to feel himself relax. He focuses on the sound of Cas’ breath in time with his own. After a few minutes he is definitely on the cusp of sleep when he notices Cas’ breath hitch just a bit before he says, “Dean...I’d like to...that is...could I try...something?”
“Humm, what? Sure,” Dean slurs comfortably. Before he can even wonder what Cas means, he feels the mattress move and Cas is suddenly pressed up behind him with one arm is curled protectively around Dean’s middle. He’s too sleepy to stop the contented sound that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside him.
“Yeah, that’s...good. Like that. Thanks, Cas.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah”
“Happy birthday,” Cas presses the words into his hair like kisses, “Happy birthday.”