Work Text:
The words had been held beneath Dean’s tongue for so long now, occasionally making a break for it, pushing against tightly gritted teeth until he swallowed them back down. He knew, one day, they would escape, but not now, not today. That’s what he had been telling himself, for a decade. If there had been a right time then surely it had passed long ago. Cas was braver than him, no surprise there, but even he had only said it as he lay dying. Dean wasn’t even man enough to reciprocate, how could he with his family watching? With no possibility of a future? It would only hurt him more, when Cas died, to need to have that conversation. Better to bite it down. The fact that he didn’t die changed nothing, the moment had passed, again.
The words only fought harder as time went by, and Dean kept on fighting himself because that was all he knew how to do. It was bad enough that Cas was stuck with him at all, he couldn’t drag him in any further, he wouldn’t. His angel deserved so much better.
An angel, a fucking angel. He would fall in love with a creature that was so utterly unobtainable. God was real, he couldn’t ignore that fact. Chuck may be a scrawy little shit but there was no denying the wrath that lurked in those eyes. Sleeping with Cas would probably doom them all, the bible left room for argument when it came to homosexuality (he’d checked, twice) but it was crystal clear about what happened to those who messed with angels.
Of course the thought had crossed his mind, on nights when he drank too much or killed too many, that they were only in this mess in the first place because he was being punished. Maybe god really did hate him, maybe he’d fucked up all chance at happiness when he’d first got down on his knees in the bathroom of some sleazy bar. He should have known, pressing his face to warm denim, that the heat was hellfire, no matter how much it felt like redemption.
Cas felt like safety. How could Dean trust that? How could he destroy it?
He was destroying it either way. He was gritting his teeth so hard they might shatter, and Cas knew something was wrong, of course he did. He was putting so much effort into holding back those words that others kept getting through. He was hurting Cas, and he just kept telling himself that this was better, that if Cas left he might be safe. If Cas left then he wouldn’t be cursed by proximity.
The words were growing bigger now, they were filling every atom of his being, every atom that Cas had carefully reconstructed.
How could he not love a being like that? It would be like hating the night sky. Like being ambivalent to apple pie and beefburgers, Led Zeppelin and the open road.
Cas had saved him, so many times, Cas kept saving him.
The words were beating like the bass about to drop, like a bomb seconds away from exploding, and it was all Dean could do to close his eyes and cover his ears, as if that would help when the noise was coming from inside him.
He drank, he drank hard, and he didn’t even realise he was praying until the words were gone.
And there they were. And there Cas was, with the words shining in his eyes, making constellations of the stars that always resided there.
He wished he hadn’t said them drunk. He wished he had actually said them out loud. He wished-
Cas was kissing him, and he didn’t need to wish anymore, because for now nothing mattered but this.
“I love you,” hung like a scent in the air, filling his lungs and then releasing, and Dean felt like he was breathing fully for the first time.
Perhaps they were doomed in the end, but for now, in this perfect moment, he was home. Maybe that was all anyone could ever hope for. Hell was an eternity, whereas heaven was nothing but an instant. He knew he would fight for every last second, because if there was one thing Dean Winchester knew how to do, it was fight.
Maybe, if he was very lucky, they might even win.