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„Boo!“ says Cas.
Dean rolls his eyes. „Dude, you came around the corner five seconds ago.”
“Is there a defined amount of time in which I have to say it?”
They’ve watched a silly movie yesterday, and since then, Cas is obsessed with the idea to surprise Dean. Dean acts all grumpy when Cas starts a new attempt, - after all, his life taught him there’s not much to like about surprises, - but deep inside, he thinks Cas is adorable. So he indulges Cas and explains – again – how it works.
“You have to say ‘boo’ in the exact same moment I see you or just before, Cas,” he says, and the crease between Cas’ brows deepens.
“Okay,” he answers solemnly.
///
Dean eats his cereal when he hears footsteps behind him. They stop right next to his chair, and Dean doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Cas. It’s the soft swish of his trenchcoat that gives him away. And, though Dean would never ever admit it, Dean recognizes his scent, would recognize it in a crowd of people.
He hears Cas’ inhale, and stops him with the lifted spoon. Drops of milk land on the table and run down his hand. “Don’t bother,” he mumbles around a mouthful of cereal, before he swallows and turns to look at Cas.
Cas’ shoulders sag. “You haven’t seen me, have you?”
“No, Cas. But I heard you from a mile away. As an angel, you’ve got to be able to be moresneaky than that.”
Cas’ plush mouth thins into determined line. He nods.
///
Cas doesn’t try again for days, so Dean suspects he’s given up. Dean swallows his disappointment. He loves to teach Cas new human things, and he enjoyed watching Cas have fun for once.
It’s deep in the night when he wakes to a small sound. His senses are trained to alert him to every little detail around him – one reason why he loves the thick walls of the bunker. He’s never slept better than in his almost soundproof room.
His fingers close around the knife under his pillow before his brain even knows it’s awake. His muscles tense. He’s out of his bed in a split second and tackles the intruder in one long leap.
There’s a gasp and more rustling. In the pitch black darkness, Dean’s finds a throat to angle his knife at. The body beneath him is thick and male and smells like…
“Cas?”
He lifts his knife and tries to make out the contours of Cas’ face in the dark.
“Is it too late to say it now?”, Cas rumbles in that gruff tone he uses when he reprimands Dean for taking the last coffee before Cas had any.
Dean needs a moment to catch up. He’s very aware that he’s still straddling Cas’ thighs and how wide he has to spread his own around the sheer breadth of Cas, how warm and firm those muscles feel under Dean. The adrenaline of the ambush courses through him and makes him lightheaded. His left palm is still pressed against Cas’ throat. Dean can feel Cas’ blood pumping just a little bit faster. Or maybe it’s his own.
Dean lets his knife fall to the ground. It lands with a metallic clank. It’s loud in the silence of his bedroom.
“Shit, Cas, you can’t just walk in here in the middle of the night like this. I could have hurt you!”
Cas shakes his head, so Dean has to move his hand with it. “You couldn’t hurt me, Dean.”
Dean’s not sure if Cas means Dean wouldn’t be fast enough or if Cas trusts him that much. He ignores how the second option lets his heart swell, even as the first option hurts his pride.
“So this was wrong, too?” Cas sounds put-out and defeated. “I did everything you said. You didn’t hear or see me coming. And you were surprised, weren’t you?”
Dean chuckles. “Yeah, but– woah!”
Cas sits up suddenly, and Dean grips his shoulder to keep from falling over. Which means…he’s now sitting in Cas’ lap, with his thighs around– and Cas’ hands are on Dean’s hips, and he’s close enough that Dean can feel his breath on his own lips.
“My attempt was a failure, so I thought I’d leave,” Cas says, but he says it slowly as if he’s just now realizing that he can’t just get up and go as long as Dean is sitting in his fucking lap like a fucking idiot. Dean starts scrambling backwards, but Cas’ grip on his hips tightens.
“Your heart beats very fast,” Cas observes.
“Yeah, no shit, you surprised me with that move.”
“Five minutes ago you thought I was an attacker and your heart rate stayed steady. Now you know you’re not in danger.” Cas’ mouth is still so, so close while he says it, and Dean can’t move, can’t say anything because Cas is right, he’s terrified right now, and as soon as Cas finds out why, he’ll never want to see Dean again.
Dean has to get up, he’s got to get away from being so close to Cas, but as he moves he bumps against Cas. Their noses brush. Dean freezes. He doesn’t dare to breathe.
“Are you afraid of me?”, Cas whispers, and it breaks Dean’s heart to hear the hurt in it.
Dean doesn’t trust his voice, so he just shakes his head minutely. Cas’ thumb paints circles over his hipbone. Gradually, Dean’s pulse slows and he’s able to breathe again. Cas’ warmth is seeping into his body, through his boxers and his shirt.
“Then may I try again tomorrow?” Dean can’t see Cas’ face, but he can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah, Cas, but maybe while I’m not sleeping, okay?”
They untangle slowly, and Dean doesn’t look to closely at how wrong it feels to let Cas go or how perfect their bodies fit against each other.
///
Dean finishes brushing his teeth. The dark circles under his eyes are a casualty of last night. He didn’t sleep after Cas left, part turned-on, part loathing himself. He really thought he’d gotten over it, that silly crush he had on Cas, and that he’d moved on into the safe and sound friendship territory. No such luck.
As he Exits the bathroom, he walks right into the long line of Cas’ body. The sound he makes is not a squeal, but might be mistaken as one by a bystander how doesn’t know that Dean Winchester doesn’t squeal.
“Boo!”, Cas says triumphantly as Dean takes a stumbling step back.
Dean chuckles, still a little out of breath. “Well played, Cas.”
Cas is still grinning when he takes a careful step closer. “Did I do it right this time?”
Dean nods. “Yeah, you did.”
Cas’ grin, impossibly, widens and his eyes sparkle with happiness.
“That means I can kiss you now?”
Dean almost chokes on his own spit.
He coughs.
He blinks.
He opens his mouth, like a fish out of water.
Closes it.
“What?”, he croaks.
“In the movie,” Cas starts, but he looks unsure now. His gaze darts from Dean’s eyes to his mouth and back to his eyes. Then Cas squares his shoulders. “In the movie, the male protagonist surprised the female protagonist. They laughed about it. Then they kissed. It was clearly depicted as a human mating ritual,” he lectures, as if he’s recounting a spell or a historic fact to Dean.
Dean’s not ready to have this conversation after the night he had. Fuck, he’s not ready to have this conversation ever.
“And you–“, he starts, but the words stuck in his throat. He looks down at Cas’ shoes, next to his bare feet. A thousand questions tumble through his head, and between them, an awful lot of emotions battle for his attention. But in the end, there’s only one question that really matters.
“And you would want that? Kiss me?”
His head is lifted with an index finger under his chin. Despite the panic that bubbles just under his skin while he waits for Cas’ answer, he has to smile at the sheer cheesiness of that move. Cas has definitely watched too many movies, but then again, Dean won’t complain when it leads to this.
“Yes.” Cas’voice is firm and solid. “Would you want to be kissed?”
Dean could stop this, stop the mess that will follow from happening. All the things he’ll do to ruin it would never happen if he just walked away now. But Cas’ gaze is wide and hopeful, and his lips are slightly parted as if he’s holding his breath, and Dean, in a surge of bravery, lets the cracked and hoarse yes spill out of him.
Cas holds Dean’s chin between his bent index finger and his thumb. He circles Dean’s waist with his other hand. Dean has never in his whole life felt more like a heroine in a Jane Austen novel, and, with his world turned upside down like this, he can’t find it in him to pretend he doesn’t like it. His heart is beating in his throat. His knees feel a little wobbly, but at this point, he’s sure he can count on Cas to sweep him up in his arms should the need arise.
Cas’ lips are dry and soft when they finally meet his. With trembling fingers, Dean weaves his hands into Cas’ hair and holds on.
Dean Winchester doesn’t like surprises.
Except sometimes, he does.