Chapter Text
“Dean?” Cas cocked his head in confusion. “What are you doing?”
Dean was, in fact, not doing anything out of the ordinary: he was splayed out below his beloved Impala, working on something-or-other that probably didn’t need fixing in the first place. Cas could see the lower half of Dean’s shins sticking out from underneath the car’s bumper, his right foot bobbing along to the heavy drums echoing through the garage. He directed his words at the hunter’s boots.
Sighing, Dean scooted out into the open and lifted himself gracefully to his feet.
“I’m tryna fix my car, Cas,” said Dean gruffly, “and tryna enjoy it.” His voice could barely be heard over the wailing of the song’s lyrics.
“Oh.” Cas didn’t know how exactly to continue the conversation without bothering Dean; so he tried changing the topic to a necessary one. “Sam’s doing some research on a possible case in Wisconsin. Two people missing so far.”
Dean wordlessly arched an eyebrow at Cas as he turned to grab a wrench from his nearby bench of tools, tapping the radio as he did so. The garage fell silent.
Cas pushed on. “So. We may need to head out later this evening if Sam deems it to be a case.”
“Good thing I’m working on the car then, eh? Beauty doesn’t get this fine without regular maintenance.” Dean clapped the car’s hood proudly before lifting it and inspecting several mechanisms that Cas didn’t fully understand.
“Dean?”
“Hmmnng?”
“Can I help?”
Dean whipped around so fast he narrowly missed hitting his head on the Impala’s hood. “You want to help with… Baby?”
“Yes.” Cas figured the best way to connect with Dean at this moment was to try and understand his love for this machine. “I want to help.”
Dean’s mouth twitched into a half-smile and he bent purposefully back over the engine, saying that he would occasionally ask Cas for a tool or teach him the function of a part.
“Hand me that 7/16 wrench, will ya?” Dean offered an empty hand without looking up.
Cas studied the assortment of tools laying on the bench before him and selected the correct one. He set in gingerly in Dean’s palm, which disappeared back into the car almost as soon as the metal had touched his skin. Cas heard something being tightened, and he stepped closer so he could see what Dean was doing. Unfortunately, the hunter had already finished with the wrench, and he looked up for a moment to toss it deftly back onto the bench.
Dean turned back to the car, waving the angel closer. “So, Cas, this here’s where we check the oil,” explained Dean as he pulled a thin plastic stick seemingly out of nowhere. Inspecting it quickly, he extended it toward Cas. “See how it’s a lightish brown? That means the oil’s still okay.” He replaced the stick and pointed to a large cap. “That’s where we would fill up the oil if we needed to.”
Cas nodded. Although he already knew the basics of how cars worked, having come across a manual before, he didn’t say anything. The Impala was much different than the car in the manual, and he also liked seeing how Dean relaxed whenever he talked about his car.
Dean went on, detailing how the radiator and coolant were necessary to keep from overheating– he pointed out their locations and Cas leaned over to see– and how the combustion in the engine worked. Cas listened attentively, for he found reading the same information from a thin-paged book was much less interesting than hearing it from Dean, who livened up the whole process with proud smirks and excited tangents.
“Hey, guys?” Sam opened the door and flounced down the stairs, tablet in hand and hair flying. He tucked the stray locks back behind his ear without breaking pace. Seeing their two figures standing close together, he stopped short. “Uh, you guys want me to come back? I don’t want to interrupt the, uh… learning going on here.” He broke into a mischievous grin.
Dean rolled his eyes and retorted, “Sam, I swear I’ll kick your ass. I’m just teaching Cas the basics about Baby.”
Cas picked the topic that Dean had most recently explained to present to Sam. Offering a small smile, he added, “Yes. In fact, he was showing me how, if not for the cooling system, the engine’s combustion can make the mechanism too hot.”
“Right.” Sam just smirked before continuing with his original message. “Well, it looks like the ‘case,’” he animated with air quotes, “isn’t actually our kind of thing. So. Guess you two can get back to… whatever.” He scoffed in their direction suggestively as Dean opened his mouth, trying to formulate a response. Cas noticed Dean’s cheeks were slightly more pink than usual. He watched the color spread slightly as Sam shot a final grin at his older brother and turned on his heels. The taller hunter exited the garage before Dean could form a sentence, closing the door quietly.
Hm. Since Dean hasn’t been drinking, that would signify embarrassment. I wonder why, Cas thought. Although, if the angel could blush, he believed he would be doing so. Sam had been raising eyebrows at them for quite some time now, although that was probably his most indiscreet jab yet. Cas thought the effort was pointless. Dean obviously cared for him, Cas could see in every interaction, but he would never admit his feelings– if they even ran that deep in the first place. Cas had already committed himself against acting on whatever he felt– he wasn’t quite sure what it even was, having had limited experience with emotions.
Dean tensely leaned on the Impala’s frame, hands gripping the metal. Conflict was written all over his face, and Cas’ eyes traced the lines formed by the hunter’s knitted eyebrows before they focused on his tight pout. He seemed much more affected by his brother's antics than usual, which Cas found strange. According to his knowledge, nothing had changed between them, and the day had progressed normally. Until now.
“Dean?” Cas cautiously asked.
Dean looked up and met the angel’s eyes. His flashed with a wild longing backed by a deep green, taking Cas completely by surprise and causing the angel’s own to widen and reveal a light icy blue. The hunter’s eyes hardened with focus a moment later and Cas thought he had imagined the whole thing.
“I’m… sorry.” Dean’s voice was measured, but it quivered in a way that Cas had never heard before.
“Dean? Are you okay? I can tell Sam not to–” Cas tried.
“Dammit Cas– I–” Dean nearly growled with the effort of restraining… something. Cas frowned in concern; he had never seen Dean this visibly upset before.
Dean ground his teeth together. “Look, can we… can we go somewhere else?”
Blinking, Cas replied, “Of course.”
Dean whirled away almost too fast, glad to break the tension. He grabbed the wrench Cas had given him earlier to get the car in a state to run. Luckily, between his continuous explanations and Sam’s interruption, not much needed to be done. In a few short minutes, Dean was brooding over the wheel, eyes sharp, and Cas was in the passenger seat.
The car ride passed in silence, except for Dean’s hearty music. Though Cas wanted to prompt Dean to say whatever he was obviously holding back, he knew better. Dean wouldn’t talk unless he wanted to.
Instead of talking, Cas simply studied Dean’s face, which still seemed to be flickering with a slight uncertainty, and for a moment he was worried that Dean would decide not to tell him after all. However, Cas could see Dean’s resolve was stronger in the way he was murdering the road with his gaze, jaw clenched tight. Whatever Dean was upset about, he had already made up his mind to reveal.
Cas exhaled slightly in relief. He could probably count the exact number of times Dean bottled something up, but he didn’t need to do so in order to know that it happened often. He was just glad that this wasn’t one of those times. Whatever it is, I’ll help Dean figure it out no matter what, the angel promised himself.
Dean pulled into a deserted lot that had grass growing on one edge and a dark wooden shed on the other. Cas tipped his head toward the hunter questioningly.
“I come here during food runs sometimes,” Dean explained without turning his head, “to think.”
Cas simply nodded to affirm his understanding. He was glad that Dean had found a way to process the losses this life had inflicted on him, even if that method was without the company of Sam and himself.
The car bounced slightly as Dean braked into a stop, and Cas opened the door, framing the disappearing sun in familiar black metal. Dean jerked his head toward the small building, and Cas dutifully followed the hunter toward the shed. Dean’s shoulders were still tense, although his hands earnestly and nimbly unbolted the door as they reached the structure and entered. Cas softly shut the door.
Dean turned around. Baby pink and purple light slanted through the loosely attached planks, framing Dean’s face in an ethereal glow. Without anything to fiddle with, he stuffed his hands into the large pockets of his jacket.
“I guess I can’t really run anymore, huh?” Ever one to try and joke in serious times, now was no exception.
Cas waited calmly and assumed an open stance to indicate to Dean that he was listening. By now the angel was bursting with curiosity, but he didn’t allow the emotion to seep into his body language, lest he put pressure on Dean.
“Look. Cas.” Dean began his speech with resolute eye contact but quickly looked away– at the floor, the wall, Cas’ trench coat, his belt, anywhere but meeting the angel’s eyes. “Well, basically I–” Dean yanked his hands from his pockets and ran his hands through his hair in exasperation, an unreadable expression on his face. “Dammit. I can’t do this.”
“Dean, if you’d rather write it dow–”
And then, before the angel even knew what was happening, Dean’s arms were around his shoulders, strong and firm, and Cas froze for a moment before relaxing into the embrace. It seemed he would never get used to the sensation of the hunter surrounding him, and he clutched back desperately, trying to communicate the leaping of his heart without words. Dean’s lips were at his ear, and Cas heard him whisper, “There’s no way I can say this with you looking at me.”
“Dean. Seriously. What is going on?” Cas’ voice was low, and it felt almost coarse leaving his throat. This was no normal conversation, not even the discourse following Dean’s escape from hell had been this… intimate. Cas couldn’t help but imagine the possible reasons for this interaction, and his stomach was doing flips as he waited for Dean’s response.
Dean took a shuddering breath, and his embrace intensified. “Cas. The thing is, I need you.”
Cas was slightly confused, but he squeezed a little tighter anyway. Although Dean had expressed the same sentiment that day in the catacombs, when he had been brainwashed by Naomi, this felt different, more real. He started, “Dean, I–”
“No. You don’t understand.” Dean was on a roll now, and his breaths came quickly. “When you died, I was lost, man. I couldn’t go five seconds without thinking about you under that– that– sheet,” several tears dripped from Dean’s chin to Cas’ shoulder as he continued, “I swore I’d get you back, even if it meant hunting Chuck down and making him bring you back, even if I had to face Amara all over again, I…” Dean swallowed thickly. “I need you. More than you can understand.”
“Dean,” the angel whispered tenderly, “I do understand. Really.” He pulled away just enough to see Dean’s face and met the hunter’s eyes for what felt like the first time in eons. And, at that moment, Cas resolved not to leave this dark, rotting shed without showing Dean exactly how he felt. A few tears still lingered on the hunter’s face and Dean roughly wiped them away with one hand, as if embarrassed by the droplets.
“Okay, well, glad we g–”
Cas leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean’s softly, hesitantly asking a question. He felt the hunter open his mouth slightly in surprise as the angel began pulling away. For a loaded moment, Dean’s breath mingled hotly with his own in the space between their trembling lips, and Cas began to wonder if he had made a mistake.
But then, all of a sudden, Dean was kissing him back with force, and Cas could feel hands in his hair, on his neck, running along his shoulders, even as his own found the other man’s stubble. The beautiful mouth now pressed against his was warm and wet and oddly squishy, and all Cas could think was, oh, and then, finally.
They broke apart, breathless, unsure. The hunter’s skin was flushed in the low light, and the angel offered a gentle smile. Looking at his eyes, now a faint grey-green and barely visible with the sun gone, Cas knew what Dean had been trying to say all along.
“I love you too, Dean.”