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Dean Winchester hated glitter with a passion. A furious, deadly passion. He also hated his luck, which is what lead him here, with Cas, at a eight year old girl's sleepover, while Sam was off killing things. And god, the amount of glitter was terrifying.
This fucking witch better be worth it.
It had started out with Sam dropping his laptop down on the table in front of Dean, pointing at an article about a witch that kidnapped little girls and used their body parts for a spell to stay forever young. Of course that had lead to Sam forcing Dean to haul ass to Nowhere, Nebraska, when all he wanted was some Netflix and a cold beer. Honestly, at this point, it didn't even have to be cold.
That, of course, with Dean's luck, only lead to a mother hosting a sleepover, that somehow had every little girl in the town, begging him and Cas to make sure the witch didn't kidnap any of them - apparently she had already planned it and didn't want to cancel it for fear of worrying the kids. What utter friggin crap. So he was here, and Sam was off with a gun. Great.
He supposed he had it easy though; after all the kids took a shine to Cas.
Which meant Dean stood out in the living room with the mother while the giggling eight year old girls gave Cas a "pretty" makeover. At least there was WiFi. Nowhere, Nebraska did at least have one perk.
"Okay," a high pitched voice interrupted Dean as he was in the middle of reading an online post about youth spells, "close your eyes!"
Dean glanced at the little bossy girl, who had her arms folded and was staring at Dean, apparently waiting for him to close his eyes. With a sigh, the hunter who had literally stopped the apocalypse, obeyed an eight year old girl.
There was shuffling, an oof, some more giggling - of course - and then a four voice cry of "Now open!"
Dean once again obeyed, and found he couldn't breath. Like forgot how to, which hadn't happened in a long time. The guy was forty years older than his body for Pete's sakes! Nothing should surprise him this much. And yet, these little girls managed to transform Cas enough to.
The former angel had abandoned his trenchcoat, suit jacket and tie, and was now only wearing a white button up and his dark jeans. Okay, only was the right word. Around his waist was a fluffy pink tutu covered in sparkles. His fingernails were painted light pink. He had on blush, but his cheeks were already red. On Cas's lips was lip gloss, and he donned a flower crown a top his head. The man's black hair hung in his face as he ducked his head, attempting to hide from Dean.
Of course, just then, Dean realized he was gaping. But he couldn't help it. The fully grown, millennium old man in front of him was adorab-
No. He was not letting his brain wander down that dark path.
"Well?" It was Bossy Girl #1. "Do you like it? Tell him you like it."
"He doesn't have to. You don't have to." And even when Castiel, angel of the goddamn lord was reassuring Dean, owner of a day old cheeseburger, he was still cute as hell. His lashes fluttered as he peered at Dean shyly.
"I- uh, no, you look great." Dean rubbed his neck awkwardly, face heating up, and he was suddenly glad Cas couldn't see into his mind and realize "great" wasn't exactly the term Dean would use to describe him.
BG #1 huffed, obviously that wasn't the answer she was looking for. If possible Cas blushed harder.
"Hey!" Bossy Girl #2 spoke up for the first time. "I have an idea! We should have a dance party!"
Why did every sentence sound so excit- wait did she say dance party? Dean's brain finally caught up with him and for the second time that night he gaped like a dying fish.
Cheers of "yeah"'s and "I'm picking the song"'s followed her thought, and Dean watched in shock as Cas was dragged to the middle of the carpet, and BG #3 took the mother's phone and "Die Young" started up.
Dean flopped down, still gaping, and watched as Cas was pulled and twirled, his flower crown slipping off his head slightly. At one part during the song it fell off all together, and a little girl rushed forward, helping him fix it to where it was attached to a smaller, sparkly pink head band and fix it snugly onto his head.
When the song finally ended, the girls collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles, Cas sitting in the center like some sort of teacher.
And then "Whisky in The Jar" was blaring from Dean's back pocket, and he had to leave the room to take the call as some Disney song started to play.
"Sammy?" Dean stepped into a random hallway.
"Yeah, uh, caught the witch." The younger Winchester's voice was out of breath.
"So now can you come pick me up from Disneyland here?"
"Yeah, I'm on my way. It'll take about thirty minutes, had to chase her a while."
"Just please hurry. I'm afraid they might drag me into a makeover."
A chuckle and then, "We wouldn't want your masculinity to be threatened, Dean."
Sam hung up before Dean could ask him what the hell that meant.
When Dean entered the living room again, half the girls were asleep, and those that weren't were humming along to a song about not admitting you're in love. But there was no Cas.
"Hey kids, where's the guy you just glitter bombed?"
BG #1 pointed to an armchair, and Dean glanced over to see Cas curled up asleep, his mouth slightly open and tutu askew. With a heavy sigh, Dean laid an afghan over the former angel and brushed his hair from his eyes.
"Alright brats, bed time." He turned and clapped his hands.
BG #1 shrugged and woke up her groggy playmates to remove them from the room.
When Dean and the mom were left alone in the room, she talked to him for the first time since the sleepover started.
"So you really like him huh?" She gestured to Cas, who had curled himself up on the arm of the chair and was now gently snoring.
Dean should've said no, he wasn't gay, especially not for his best friend. It was the right response.
But he was tired. Tired of seeing Cas and not being able to hold him. Tired of watching Cas smirk when he said something teasing and not being able to kiss the grin right off of his face. Tired of not being able to get jealous, to buy Cas flowers, to hold him after a bad case, to take him on cheesy dates.
Dean was tired of hiding his feelings. Tired of pretending to be okay with being alone. Tired of lying about himself.
Dean was tired about not telling the truth.
So he said simply, not just to the mother, not just to the empty room, but to his glittered covered best friend who had seen him at his worst, "He's my angel."