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It’s raining.
It’s been a long day, Dean is tired, and it’s raining.
His clothes are absolutely soaked through. Sam was back at the motel, doing research and Dean had gone to get dinner. The nearest diner was just down the street, so he hadn’t seen the need to waste Baby’s gas just to cross two lanes of traffic and a block’s worth of cement, but now, soaking wet, he was regretting his decision. The food was cold, wet, and soggy, almost as much as the hunter holding it. He’s grumbling to himself, hunched over to utilize his jacket as much as he could to protect himself and their meal from the rain, when he bumps into someone. He’s ready to go off, to send them a withering glare and snarl words that’ll have them running with their tail between their legs when-
“Hello, Dean.” A familiar voice rumbles, halting any scorching remarks at the edge of his mouth, ugly words trailing off the end of his lips.
“Cas?” He asks instead, anger surpassed by confusion.
“Yes. It’s me.” Cas looks down at himself and holds his arms to the side a bit as if looking for the possibility it could be anyone else.
“What are you doing?” Dean half screeches, sourly noting that he does nothing but continue to get wet as they stand there, exchanging conversation.
Cas takes note of the look on Dean’s face and suddenly the rain stops, but he has no time to question it as the angel starts to speak again. “I noticed the rain had started, and knew that you were still out, so I figured I’d come help.” He says as if it’s nothing, and he isn’t standing there, getting soaking wet in the middle of a rainstorm while not even a single drop touches the hunter anymore.
Dean isn’t sure what to say, so he mutters out something that vaguely resembles a ‘thanks’ and starts to walk towards the motel, but is stopped midstep by firm hands pressed against his chest. Dean looks down at Cas’s hands, and then back up to his face.
“What?”
“You’re drenched.”
“Yeah,” Dean states like its obvious, because it is, “That’s what happens when you walk in the rain.”
But the angel isn’t having it, and before Dean knows it, he’s shucking off his trenchcoat in the middle of the sidewalk, reach over to drape it around Dean’s shoulders.
“Now.” He seems satisfied, slotting himself in the space beside Dean on the sidewalk, “Let’s go home. You’re freezing and I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Dean rolls his eyes but starts walking, Cas carefully keeping in stride. Honestly, Dean thought the trenchcoat wasn’t going to do much, but between that, and whatever he was doing to make raindrops steer clear, it was pretty nice. “So, what’s this magic ‘Rain doesn’t touch Dean’ spell you got going on?” He says as he pulls the trenchcoat tighter around himself, hoping the question is distracting enough so his movement doesn’t draw any attention.
Cas chuckles softly, glancing over at the hunter, looking oddly bare without his normal attire. “It’s no spell, Dean,” he replies, looking out in front of them, steps still calculated to match Dean’s. “It’s my wings.”
Dean splutters, and his mind screeches to a halt, his body freezing along with it. He feels a drop or two splatter against his head, but he is quickly covered once again, blue eyes pinning him to the spot as he takes a moment to process. “I can’t see them though,” Dean says, instead of what he wants to.
“Of course not,” Cas explains gently, “Seeing them would cause great damage to you, Dean. I would never purposely cause you harm." Those words hit Dean hard. They’re honest, a promise, and a reminder of past mistakes.
“Right. So, so you…” He starts to speak words his mind tells him he should not, but he soldiers on anyway. “So you came out into the rain, to give me your coat so I would stay warm and use your wings to keep me dry all while you stand in the rain, getting drenched?”
“Of course.”
It’s those words again. Of course. Cas keeps saying these things like they’re obvious, gets confused when Dean doesn’t understand why, but takes it all in stride and does it over and over again. But Dean doesn’t get it, because even if Cas can’t get sick from the rain, and Dean could, it doesn’t mean he should do all this just for him.
“You’re important to me.” Cas continues, and Dean feels like he got knocked out of the fuzzy musings of his head onto the hard, cold pavement of reality. Cas must have interpreted this stunned silence as some sort of revelation that Dean didn’t actually have because he’s leaning over and presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead.
“Dude, did you just kiss me?” Dean demands, shocked, and now the angel just looks confused.
“Was I not supposed to?”
“I don’t know,” Dean says, his brain short-circuiting. “But could you do it again?”
“Of course,” Cas replies, stepping closer and places a kiss against Dean’s drying hair.
Dean’s heart clenches, because there’s that of course again, and he stands resolute as if it’s not slowly turning his insides to mush.
He doesn’t protest as their cold dinner is pried out of his hand and is, instead, replaced by Cas’s hand, who squeezes them gently. They start the trek to the motel, though it’s not far now, hand in hand, silent and enjoying each other’s company.
“I might be in love with you.” Dean blurts a little while later, as they’re dawning the last few steps to their room.
“That’s great to hear as I am also in love with you.”
Dean smiles and feels something pull him close, even though Cas’s arms stay resolutely planted at his sides. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dean just knows. He reaches up, cradling the angel’s face in his hand, and kisses him, straight on chapped lips. Arms wrap around his waist as he pulls away, biting his lip, nervous.
“Can we... not tell Sam about this - us - for a bit?” Dean asks hesitantly, bracing for rejection.
The only reaction he gets from Cas, however, is a soft smile and the words “Of course.”
And, well, with a response like that, how can Dean not kiss him again?