Work Text:
Dean is hauled over to the other end of the warehouse and lands with a nasty sound, while Cas attacks again and stabs the demon right through the heart. The floor opens and swallows the black smoke greedily.
Cas is by Dean’s side a second later, searching for injuries. Dean has a deep cut on his forehead, and a dark circle is quickly growing on his shirt.
Cas crouches down. “You were reckless again. You could have been killed.”
Dean smiles up at him, before his features tighten into pained frown. “Admit it, you like it when I storm into a fight. Like a knight or a … ouch … some kind of ancient warrior.”
Cas glowers, a picture of silent reproach, and reaches out his fingertip to heal the gash on Dean’s face. Since his grace is fading, he can only heal one wound at a time. He doesn’t say anything.
Dean seems unfazed in the face of Cas’ discontent. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
“I am not cute,” Cas growls, “I am an Angel of the Lord.”
“Nah,” Dean hisses when Cas searches for the next wound. “You’re my angel now. And a cute one at that.”
“Dean,” Cas warns, “you can’t take risks like this. It’s unnecessary and stupid.”
“Ahh, look at you. The little squint, and the way your eyes are glowing with fury. Your pouty lips, so kissable.”
Cas, if possible, squints only harder. “I am not cute. Now hold still.”
“Mmmmh, and sexy, too. When your voice goes all deep and growly, and you order me around.” He hums while Cas heals the wounds on his stomach.
Cas sighs. “I am a multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent. The term ‘sexy’ doesn’t apply to beings that stretch over several planes of existence,” he intones calmly, but there’s a light twitch at the corner of his lips. One has to know Cas well to recognize it for what it is. A smile.
“Who says that? I’d say I’m kind of an expert in this field and I say you’re sexy, especially when you stretch over things with celestial intent, if you catch my drift.” He grins up at Cas whose hand is still on Dean’s stomach, over the blood-soaked shirt that covers now healed skin. “By the way, you missed something.”
“I healed every wound,” Cas states, but looks Dean over nonetheless, a worried frown between his eyebrows.
“A bit lower,” Dean says, and Cas moves his hand over his lower belly. “Lower, Cas. It aches,” Dean whines melodramatically. Cas’ hands reaches Dean’s groin, and Dean’s grin widens. “Right there,” he sighs and wriggles his eyebrows. “Do you think you could help with that?”
Sam snorts and turns around. He’d rather not see what follows, but his smile is fond when he averts his eyes from the scene.
He leaves the warehouse through the wide open doors, one of which only hangs on one remaining hinge. The sun is just setting behind the trees. He leans against the passenger door of the Impala to watch the sky drown in colors.
It’s good to have Cas back, and it’s good that his brother and his best friend finally sorted out their relationship. It’s been a hard eight years to watch them pining, see them ripped from each other by powerful forces again and again, see them reunited by their sheer force of will, but still unable to speak their minds and confess their feelings.
Two months ago, they had come to the kitchen, holding hands. Dean had lifted their combined palms in Sam’s direction. “It’s a thing now, Sammy, deal with it.” Sam had chuckled a “Finally” into his bowl of cereals, and that had been it. Sam still doesn’t know what had happened, but he’s glad that it happened.
He has never seen Dean this content. And he’s never seen Cas so completely at ease with who he is. It gives it all meaning, somehow, to see them together, as if all they had to endure led to this goal. Even if he has to witness their bickering and watch Dean’s endless array of cheesy pick-up-lines sinking unnoticed in the vast ocean of Cas’ cluelessness, it’s all worth it knowing they finally found the courage to make each other happy.
When Dean and Cas exit the warehouse ten minutes later, shoulders bumping together, heads close, while the sunset bathes them in warm orange light, Sam can’t bring himself to make a snarky comment. He opens the door and slips into the backseat.
“You tricked me,” Cas grumbles as he sits down.
Dean laughs and leans over for a quick kiss before he starts the car. “As I said. Cute and sexy.” He turns around. “What do you say, Sammy, burgers?”
Sam looks at his brother and then takes in the delighted smile on Cas’ face. He can have salad another day. “That would be awesome. But please wash your hands first.”
Dean’s booming laughter carries them well unto the interstate.
Yeah, things are good. Things are really, really good.