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Since they’ve settled into the bunker there have been fewer and fewer hunts and more regular meals. Dean doesn’t mind, he thrives on the normalcy of it all taking care of Sammy and his angel. Sometimes during the long stretches between hunts he worries that he’s getting too soft, that he won’t be able to to do what he was trained to do; that he’s losing his edge. It’s been several years since the constant running, fighting and bleeding of the Apocalypse surely it isn’t hard to believe that without the constant hunts and too little meals he’d fill out a bit?
It’s with these thoughts running through his mind that Cas finds him late one evening in the bunker, shirt off and staring himself down in the mirror.
"Dean, what are you doing?" Castiel asked his head tilted in that damnable expression of confusion he hasn’t stopped doing.
Flushing at being caught inspecting himself, Dean turns and grabs his worn Metallica shirt off the bed. “It’s nothing Cas don’t worry about it.”
Crossing the threshold to his room, Cas proves his continued lack of understanding the term ‘personal space’. “Dean I may not be familiar with the intricacies of human interaction yet, but the amount of concentration you were giving your reflection is similar to that of adolescent females on the television programs you watch that Sam does not know about.”
"Jesus Cas! I don’t know what got’s into your head but I am not acting like a teenaged girl!” he retorted trying to get his shirt the right way out in order to get out of this situation.
But Cas can always see right through him, “None the less Dean, like those girls you have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re perfect.”
His words leave Dean breathless for several moments.
Grasping Dean’s face between his hands, Castiel forces him to meet his eyes. “Dean Winchester from the moment I first gazed upon your soul in Hell I could see that even with the marring taint of the Pit that you were perfect. I remade you exactly as you were even when my orders were to remake you perfect. I did nothing other than put your body back to together and scrub the rot from your bones. I know your every muscle and cell, I know the breath of your lungs and the fabric of your skin and there is nothing you could do to change the perfection that I see in you.”
Sagging boneless into Cas’s waiting arms, Dean hid his face in the crook of his neck waiting for his breathing to return to normal. Its several minutes before Dean feels confident in his ability to talk normally.
"Even when I’m old, gray, and too flabby to hunt anymore?"
Placing a kiss on his hunter’s forehead Castiel murmured, “There is nothing that can change the beauty I see in you Dean Winchester.”