Chapter Text
Castiel had already accepted that he was in love with Dean. It wasn’t an easy or sudden realization, but he eventually got to the certain conclusion that it wasn’t even just love—because he loved Sam and he knew the difference—but that he was in love with Dean.
Being human had come with all sort of changes: there were the physical ones, of course, which were indescriptibly new for him. He experienced for the first time ever pain and hunger, just as wonderful and remarkable things like the pleasure of eating something delicious or of having a long night of sleep after a tiring day.
But above all of that, the indisputable best thing of being human was being able have feelings. If he may had been developing feelings before, when he still was an angel, now that his grace was gone it had just gotten exponentially worse. Or he should say better , because feelings were what he had to qualify as the greatest virtue in humanity.
He was lucky he had the best teachers to get him started and experienced in all of those matters: Sam and Dean. Those two were the best, with-the-strongest-concept-of-family men Castiel had ever known in all his life since God created him.
Unpleasant feelings were very important despite being, well, unpleasant. Guilt, for example, helped him realize when he’d done something wrong, like lying to his friends or saying something that might hurt their feelings. He’d also gone through some grieve after Kevin, which although was nothing compared to how Dean and Sam felt about it, it’d been enough to teach him about empathy and emotional comfort.
And about the gratifying feelings, he just lacked of words despite his vast vocabulary to describe those. All he could say was that he was glad to know humanity had always enjoyed the pleasure of experimenting good and happy feelings: the definite biggest perk ofhis grace being gone.
Starting from his loyalty towards Sam and Dean, which only got stronger in his chest with every day that passed, to the simpleness of laughing at some silly joke he’d managed to understand.
From being guided by love whenever he was tempted to lose all hopes in whatever mission they were in, to ease his conscience by offering a word of support whenever either of the Winchester brothers obviously needed it.
As he learned from feelings and emotions by experience, he investigated sometimes the theory behind them. That’s how he was so sure when he reached the conclusion that he was in love with Dean.
It was more than friendship, than caring, than worrying and missing. It was the combination of all of that plus that peace on his chest when he could spend time with Dean or cause him —even if it was indirectly— any sort of happiness or comfort.
What was left to do was to finally act on those feelings. He didn’t have anything on his knowledge that suggested Dean would return them, but that’s why he wouldn’t go to Dean right away. First, he’d ask Sam for advice. He knew his brother better than Dean knew himself.
*
Dean had gotten out to buy groceries —meaning beers and whichever greasy and unhealthy food he found on his way to the beers.
Sam was sitting in the library room, trying to synchronize his tablet with the Men of Letters’ speakers, somewhat surprisingly professional for a bunch of middle aged men that used to reunite the past century to hunt the supernatural of their world.
Sam was distracted by Cass’ footsteps, looking as if he was walking straight to him. Sam looked his way and offered a short smile.
“Hey, Cass. You didn’t find anything good to watch on TV?” He asked, already eyeing the tablet again.
“It’s not that. I want to talk to you,” his serene as always voice said.
“Okay, Cass. What’s on your mind?” He asked, still frowning at the screen.
“I need to talk to you about Dean.”
Sam’s frown deepened. He locked the tablet and put it aside on the large table. Cass took a sit next to him.
“Dean? What about him?” Sam asked, concerned. Conversations that started like this rarely meant something good.
“Nothing. Nothing bad, I guess. I just wanted to ask you if-” Cass cut himself from continuing. He looked away from Sam's eyes and sighed. Sam held his hands together over the table.
“If?” Sam pushed.
“Do you think your brother—do you think he’d go on a date with me?”
Sam wouldn’t choke on air just yet. Maybe Cass didn’t know what a date actually was, what it implied.
“A date?”
“Yeah. that’s the accurate terminology, right? When two individuals go out together to enjoy themselves?”
“No? I mean yes, it is, but do you want to take Dean on a date? Not just going out?”
Cass looked as if he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. It was strange seeing him that annoyed.
“I know that it would mean that I’m interested in him, yes. Romantically,” he finally said.
Sam raised his eyebrows. So Cass had feelings for Dean, huh? He probably should’ve seen that one coming. Before he elaborated a reply, Cass continued.
“I have feelings for him, Sam. Don’t misunderstand me, I have feelings for you, too. Good feelings, but with him it’s different, I-”
Sam breathed out a grin.
“You know, Cass? You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it. You like Dean.”
His friend smiled at the last words. His former-angel friend, who he thought was like a second brother to him and who was so screwed right now.
“So, about the date?” Castiel asked.
Sam took a deep breath as he leaned back on the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Uh, I-I don’t know, Cass. You know Dean,” he shrugged, “he’s a complicated man.”
Cass nodded slowly. He cocked his head to a side, in understanding instead of confusion.
“You don’t think he likes me.”
Sam wished he didn’t have to bring Cass the bad news. But he couldn’t lie to him, either.
“Not in the way you like him, no.”
Sam immediately felt guilty: Cass’ face saddened and, if it were possible, it would’ve looked like if he’d just lost another pair of wings.
“But, hey, let me see if I can get you something," Sam added enthusiastically. "You know, dig up and see if there’s a chance he is into you. Or men, at all.”
Cass offered a weak smile at such hopes.
“I appreciate it, Sam. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
False hopes, most likely, Sam thought. But hey, hope was the last thing men should lose.