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“Wait wait wait- she said what?” Dean lets out a choked laugh, pausing in the middle of tugging his boots off. He paints quite the picture from Castiel’s spot on the bed, and the angel can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Frankly, I’m not quite sure of what the benefits of heft would be.” Castiel continues, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Girth, on the other hand, would be a much more effective tool of measurement. Or perhaps overall stamina-“
“Okay, okay.” Dean drops his boots to wave his hands frantically in front of him. “I‘ll take your word for it. Christ.”
Castiel grins at him, and for a moment they just stare at each other. Eventually, Dean’s expression grows soft and, when he continues to look without saying anything, Castiel’s fights the very human urge to fidget.
“Oh.” Dean shakes his head as if coming out of a daze. “Sorry, nothing, I just-“ He steps forward, closing the space between them. Reaching out, he fits a hand around Castiel’s jaw and leans in to rest their foreheads together.
“I missed you.”
The kiss is soft, unhurried, with no intent behind it other than a gentle press of affection. It catches Castiel off guard, and he makes a quiet noise, tilting his face into it. He‘s so distracted that he’s not prepared for the sudden surge of joy that streaks through him, sharp and bright.
The feeling only lasts a moment, but Castiel feels his blood run cold. He snaps his eyes open, heart lurching into triple time, and without thinking his hand shoots up to clutch at Dean’s wrist, pull him away.
Dean jerks back, startled, and Castiel can’t look at him. Jerkily, he releases his hand, dropping his head to hide his face against the curve of Dean’s neck. His breaths come quickly, shallowly, and he fights against the panic clawing thickly at the back of his throat.
Distantly, Castiel feels Dean’s other hand comes to rest tentatively at the nape of his neck. “Cas? You okay?”
Castiel can’t respond, hand fisted tightly in the side of Dean’s shirt as he waits. And waits. And waits.
Nothing happens.
Castiel slumps, the adrenaline flooding out of him as quickly as it’d come. He lets out a shaky exhale, feels a telltale prickling at the corner of his eyes and he grits his teeth against it.
Dean’s hand tightens incrementally against his neck and Castiel schools his features into what he hopes is a neutral expression before pulling back.
“Hey, buddy.” Dean says weakly. “Something I said?”
There’s poorly concealed concern etched into every line of his face and Castiel averts his eyes, chagrined.
“No, I-“ he clears his throat, wills his heart-rate to return to normal. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired.”
They both know it’s a thin excuse, and there’s a painful moment where Dean just looks at him, expression unreadable. Castiel can’t manage to meet his eyes, settling instead for a spot somewhere around his left ear.
In the end, Dean just sighs, sounding infinitely more tired than he had just minutes ago.
“I didn’t realize Sam did such a number on you,” he says, releasing Castiel with a brisk pat to the back. “Must be getting pretty soft if that big lug can get the drop on you.”
Castiel recognizes the out for what it is and he takes it gratefully, even as guilt curls heavy and sour in his gut.
“Truth be told, I think the sweater vest threw me off,” he says quietly.
Dean huffs a laugh, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ”Sight like that’d scare anyone.” As he straightens up his hands slip away and Castiel feels the loss keenly.
He forces himself to remain still.
“Alright, well. I’m glad you’re both good, but I’ve gotta shower.” Dean says. “Something ‘bout that snake is still making my skin crawl.”
Castiel makes a noise of acknowledgement, and Dean moves to leave. He hesitates for a moment before pressing one last kiss to Castiel’s hairline.
This time, Castiel is prepared for it and he closes his eyes, sucking in a shaky breath and clamping down swiftly and decisively on the affection that surges through him. He sends Dean what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and the hunter slips from the room.
...
Later, Castiel lies awake in the dark, Dean’s breath fanning slow and even across his neck.
He thinks about Michael’s defeat, about Dean’s reassurances that Jack will be fine with time and Sam’s promises to rest. He thinks about Mary, and Bobby, and Charlie, safe somewhere and living their new lives.
Castiel closes his eyes, drops a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. Sleepily, the hunter pulls his arms tighter around him.
Castiel thinks about the possibilities unfurling in front of them, slow and steady with no end in sight. He thinks about all these things and, very carefully, does not feel anything at all.