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Cas had officially fallen from grace nearly six months ago. It was something he did by choice and Dean will never stop being in awe at the former angel. Dean remembers watching as Castiel slit his own throat with the very sharp tip of his blade. A small enough slice that the luminescent grace was able to flow freely from Castiel’s body. Dean no longer saw the vessel of Jimmy Novak as a vessel, as Jimmy’s soul no longer resides there. The six-foot man with wild dark hair, wide eyes and the damn trench coat was a hundred percent Castiel. And as the silvery-blue grace wove itself free of Castiel’s body and finding itself into the ground beside where they stood, Dean couldn’t help wondering if Castiel was going to regret his choice. That very spot now stands a white oak sapling.
This wasn’t something that Castiel should take lightly and Dean knew it. Once a powerful soldier of God. A grand strategist in Heaven, who with the gentlest touch could either heal you or smite you. This bad ass mother fucker was giving it all up. And why? For Dean.
That in itself was something Dean was still trying to wrap his head around. When he would ask Castiel weeks, days, minutes before giving up his grace if he was sure, Castiel would give him the barest of smiles and assure him that Dean was worth it.
Of course, this wasn’t the first time that Castiel had been human. Once before he was cast from Heaven, his grace stolen. Newly-human, unsure, and afraid he made something of himself under the name, Steve. A time that Dean hates himself for because if it weren’t for him, Castiel wouldn’t have had his first his human experience alone. Dean could have been there to help him. To show him the things humans take for granted.
But that was in the past. This was now. And right now, Castiel was staring at his hands in disbelief.
“They’re wrinkled,” Castiel says tilting his head and examining his own hands.
Dean chuckles. “That happens when you’re in the water for a while, Cas.” As if taking his words as a sign the jets on the hot tub start up again, heating up the water and causing a pleased moan to slip from Cas as one of the jets hits his right where his wings would have been. A common sore spot for the man.
Dean takes Castiel’s hand into his and traces his own pruning fingertips against Castiel’s palm making him chuckle.
“So what’s your thought’s on hot tubs?” Dean asks before gently placing a kiss on each of Castiel's fingers. He can see Castiel watching him through lidded eyes.
“I think we need one in the bunker.”
This makes Dean laugh. “We wouldn’t be able to use it outside,” he points out and smiles at Castiel’s pout. “The bunker is hidden, Cas. That would defeat the purpose.”
Castiel nods in understanding, moving himself to rest on Dean’s side. The position allowing Dean to brush butterfly kisses along his bare shoulder.
“Then perhaps we shall take a weekend away in the winter to enjoy this scene again.”
Dean smiles against the warm skin of Castiel’s shoulder. “It’s a date.”
Fin