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Dean feels Cas’ presence in the room, feels it like a living thing, heavy in the air blooming a warm pressure against his chest. It’s tinged with power, but safe, and Dean feels a peace settling over him in a way he hasn’t in a long ass time. Cas is just a few feet away, the tips of his shoes pressed up against Dean’s underneath the table. He’s nursing a beer, tipping the mouth of the slender bottle back to his lips every minute or so. With the way his eyebrows are crinkled Dean knows he’s thinking, trying to see if he still has access to angel radio or somehow can sense Jack’s presence out there in the world. It’s been an hour or so since Jack disappeared, Sam’s off somewhere else in the Bunker, sulking or upset, Dean’s not sure which. He decided to leave him alone for a while, figures when Sam wants to talk or try to figure out a solution; Sam knows where to find him. Dean’s worried about the kid too, but with Cas in front of him, real and alive, it’s hard for Dean to feel anything else other than contentment.
“You got anything?” he asks, for the heck of it, even though he’s pretty sure Cas is just as lost as he is.
“No, I believe I’m cut off from angel radio, and some of my usual tracking abilities seem to be… not working, though Jack could be blocking me from tracking him,” Cas answers. He drifts his eyes from somewhere off on the wall back to Dean and Dean feels it pierce him, sharp and it punches a breath from his lungs.
“Hmm, you feelin’ okay? Like all yourself I mean?” Dean asks. He tries to be nonchalant about it, takes a sip of his beer just to have something to do to quell the worry brewing in his stomach.
“Other than an unusual feeling of exhaustion, yes, I seem to be fine. It’s just me in here, Dean,” Cas says, and then he’s smiling soft and small just for Dean. It’s gone in the next second and he’s sipping at his beer again, leaving Dean reeling in the rush of warmth that spreads throughout him at the simple gesture.
It is strange how Cas can look so relaxed and at home here, even though he’s still fully dressed, coat on, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He always has looked like home, Dean’s brain supplies him, to which he viciously replies, shut up!
“How are you?” Cas asks, and Dean recognizes it as the loaded question it is. Cas has finished his beer now, hands still wrapped around its base resting on the table in front of him.
“Better now,” Dean answers. “It was pretty rough going there though for a while,” Dean says, leaving the when you were dead, off the end because he figures Cas knows him well enough he doesn’t need to say it out loud.
Cas doesn’t answer right away, but he looks open, and as always his gaze penetrates deep into Dean’s soul. Dean can’t stop the sudden onslaught of words that start pouring out of his mouth.
“I-I wrapped up your body and we burned you, you and Kelly, and it seemed so final; it was so final. And you know I prayed, I asked God to bring you back, I told him he owed it to us to do at least that but no one’s listening, no one was fucking listening! I was just so-so mad, and I thought it would be okay, because every other time you came back ya know? But I just knew this time you wouldn’t and I-I couldn’t, I just…” Dean’s voice falters and he swallows thickly, against the sob rising in his throat and scrubs a hand through his hair.
“You just what?” Cas prods, voice soft.
“I just… I didn’t wanna live without you and I don’t think I know how to do that, I don’t want to.” Dean’s not looking at Cas’ face, knows he’ll lose it even more if he does and he’s barely holding on as it is. He doesn’t talk this much, this might be the most he’s confessed to Cas ever, or at least in a long time. But he’s not really interested in hiding how he feels, he’s spent ten years doing that and all it has done is fucked him up more and made that relentless ache in his chest ignorable.
“Dean,” Cas says, and it’s full of sympathy, understanding, and something deeper that Dean wants to drown in. Cas’ hand moves and covers the top of his where it’s resting on top of the table, warm, and then he squeezes.
“I’m not going anywhere ever again, I promise.”
Dean breaks.
He feels the tears slipping down his cheeks before he hears himself sob, a guttural noise from deep inside his chest. His head drops into his palms and he scrunches his eyes together as the tears start burning his eyes. Dean barely registers Cas’ hand leaving his, distantly hears the scrape of a chair against the floor and then the soft press of Cas’ hand resting gently on his shoulder.
“Dean, come here,” Cas says, barely above a whisper.
Dean opens his eyes and finds Cas sitting next to him, barely a foot away his knee bumping against Dean’s, eyes sparkling with unshed tears of his own. Cas’ hand slides around, palm open, on the expanse of Dean’s back, and Dean let’s himself fall forward. He rests his forehead on Cas’ shoulder and sucks in a shuttered breath as Cas’ other arm wraps around his waist and pulls him in.
Dean moves his hands to rest on Cas’ waist, underneath his stupid coat because he’s warm and he’s wanted Cas to touch him like this for years. It should feel more revolutionary than it does, the way Cas’ fingers clench and grip onto Dean’s shirt. Cas is shaking a little as he does, which if Dean were more coherent he’d probably register that as something cosmic, but he just buries his face in the nook where Cas’ shoulder meets his neck and breathes deep.
“I’m here, Dean, it’s okay,” Cas says, and when he speaks his voice is right against the shell of Dean’s ear, warm and Dean has decided he’s never moving again.
Cas’ hand moves from Dean’s back, up to the nape of his neck and rests there, thumb rubbing slow circles against his skin. Dean feels the tension and exhaustion that have been wracking his body for the past few weeks slowly slide out, and he melts against Cas; trembling hands gripping Cas’ waist like he’s lost out at sea and Cas is the only thing keeping him afloat.
“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers, after a bit, after his tears subside and he is sniffling on Cas’ collar.
“What for?”
Dean chuckles and it comes out in a hot breath on Cas’ neck, “I’m a mess.”
“I like messes,” Cas says and Dean’s laughing again, and it feels like his heart jumping in his chest.
Dean finally raises his head from Cas’ shoulder, knowing that he probably looks just as messy as he feels, and meets Cas’ eyes with a small quirk of a smile.
“Thanks for that,” he says.
“Of course,” Cas says, then pauses and Dean watches as Cas’ eyes dart around, examining his face. “Dean, you’re exhausted.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a rough month or so.”
“You could always sleep for a bit or at least until we hear something about Jack.”
Dean takes in a heavy breath and nods. Now that the tension has left his body, he is feeling exhausted, the kind of tired that seeps into your bones.
“That sounds good, actually, yeah,” Dean pauses, licks his lips briefly glances up at Cas, surges past the fluttering nervousness bubbling up within him and asks, “Come with me?”
“Yes.”
It was so easy, and Dean barely has time to register that this is actually happening before Cas starts touching him in a way that makes him forget how to breathe. His hand is slow, slipping down from Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s arm to find his wrist, fingertips tracing until Dean’s palm opens to him. This is what finally turns Dean’s world upside down. His breath is caught in his throat as Cas’ fingers slide across his open palm, Dean’s fingers curling up to meet him and Dean swears when their fingertips meet he feels it in every nerve ending in his body. Cas, bastard that he is, just fucking grins.
Cas’ hand curves to fit into his and he tangles their fingers together. He catches Dean’s eye with a quirked eyebrow and Dean finds he’s suddenly lost the ability to speak because of how giddy he is that Cas is holding his hand. So, he nods and is thankful for Cas’ answering smile and the little tug he gives on their joined hands that finally gets Dean up off his feet and shuffling towards the hallway.
Cas leads the way to Dean’s room, and Dean feels like it should probably be the other way around, but he couldn’t give two fucks about that or anything else right now because Cas is here, Cas is holding his hand, and that’s all that matters. Cas hesitates when he reaches Dean’s door, just briefly, before pushing it open and stepping all the way in until the door shuts behind them.
It’s so quiet inside Dean’s room he can hear the slightly quickened intake and exhale of Cas’ breath next to him, and Dean wonders if Cas is as nervous about the unknown of this as he is.
“Where do you want me?” Cas asks, voice barely above a whisper and that’s when Dean realizes, Oh, he thinks I just want him in the room with me.
“I uh…well I was sorta hoping you’d want to sleep with me, oh god, I mean… not like that, not yet I guess not that we can’t do that eventually if you want, but like just –“
“Dean.”
“What?”
“I understand,” Cas squeezes his hand before releasing it and moving towards the side of the bed Dean never sleeps on.
He knows, of course he knows.
“Hey wait a second; it might be uh… easier and more comfortable if you change?” Dean offers, gesturing at Cas’ trench coat and shoes, mouth twitching in amusement. “I have an extra pair of sweatpants and a shirt if you wanna wear those?”
Cas’ eyes practically light up at the suggestion and he immediately starts shrugging his coat off his shoulders before Dean’s brain catches up.
Right, he’s gonna change right in front of me, I should look somewhere else and find clothes!
When Dean turns around again, he has one of his shirts and a pair of pants folded up against his chest. Cas is basically naked except for his boxers and socks and Dean blushes all the way to the tips of his ears.
“Here,” he says, lamely, holding the clothes out to Cas and trying very hard not to stare at his chest and his arms and oh god.
“Thanks Dean.”
“Yep, no problem,” Dean says. He turns around and climbs onto his side of the bed simply for something to do other than stare at Cas. He doesn’t know how this is going to go, or what he’s even doing right now, but he faces Cas’ side because that seems like the natural thing to do. Cas catches Dean watching him as he’s slipping his shirt over his head and he smiles soft, in a bashful way that Dean has never seen on him before.
Cas’ knee bumps into Dean’s as he climbs into the bed and starts to get situated. Dean watches, holding his breath, watching Cas adjust the pillow under his head and look so incredibly human that it makes Dean start to want and hope for things he’d not allowed himself. Maybe he can actually have this.
The dim glow from the lamp Dean left on casts shadows across Cas’ face, makes his eyes twinkle and Dean finds now that he’s allowed to look, he can’t stop. Cas drags him out of his reverent gazing, when he slips a palm across Dean’s waist and scoots closer until their faces are inches apart and Dean can feel the tickle of Cas’ breath on his cheek every time he exhales.
“Is this alright?” Cas whispers. His fingers are rubbing circles into Dean’s t-shirt against his side, gentle and comforting.
“Yes,” Dean breathes, finally releasing the breath he’d been holding tight within his chest and lets his eyelids flutter shut, soaking in the sensation of Cas’ fingers burning through his shirt to his skin underneath.
“Can I… hold you?”
Yes. I love you. Yes.
“Please?”
Cas smiles, soft, and Dean wants to kiss him. He doesn’t though, not yet, but he will. Cas moves closer, until their chests are touching, and slips his leg between Dean’s slightly bent ones until they are tangled together. His arm curls tighter around Dean’s waist until his palm is flat on Dean’s back, fingers spread out across his spine. Dean reaches out and lets himself touch Cas, presses his hand flat against Cas’ chest, right over his heart and just feels the steady beat on his palm. Cas sighs, soft and contented, and Dean moves, dropping his hand down to Cas’ side. He pulls himself as close to Cas as they can possibly be until every single part of the front of them is touching. He bunches Cas’ shirt in his fist and clings.
Their foreheads are touching and Dean just breathes and breathes and keeps his eyes on Cas’ because if he doesn’t, he’s scared he might lose it. Cas arches his neck up a bit and bumps their noses together and smiles when Dean sighs out a stuttered breath.
“Sleep, Dean,” Cas says, nose bumping Dean’s cheek.
“You gonna sleep too or are you gonna watch me?” Dean teases.
“Would it make you uncomfortable if I did?”
Dean smiles, “Not anymore.”
“I’ll try to sleep; I think it will be easier with you.”
“Guess we’ll have to do this more often."
“I guess so,” Cas replies, and Dean feels his heart do a little flip as he watches Cas’ eyes crinkle when he smiles.
“Sleep well, Dean.”
“You too,” Dean says.
Dean doesn’t think when he closes the short distance between them and brushes his lips against Cas’. Cas lets him, and Dean feels Cas’ mouth open against his, and then Cas is kissing him back for real and Dean feels it all the way to his toes. It isn’t earth shattering, not in the thousands of ways Dean had imagined this going over the years, but it’s better than that. Kissing Cas makes Dean feel the same way he does when he drives the Impala, golden light shining against his skin, music thrumming from the speakers beating along with his heart. It feels like coming home.
When Cas pulls away a few minutes later, Dean can’t help but chase his mouth with his own and whine when Cas simply brushes his mouth against Dean’s and leans back to look at him, smiling.
Cas chuckles, rests his forehead against Dean’s and says, “Later, sleep.”
Dean huffs in protest but snuggles closer to Cas anyway, “Kay.”
For the first time in his life, Dean feels completely safe being so wrapped up in someone. But this isn’t just someone, it’s Cas. As much as Dean doesn’t know what’s going to happen with everything around them, hell he doesn’t even know what’s gonna happen in the following hours, Dean knows that this blossoming thing between him and Cas that’s been dormant for so long is good. If things out there in the world beyond these walls start to go sideways, Dean knows that this thing, this constancy will carry him through whatever comes next.