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Footsteps clicked against the wood floor and Dean looked up from the book he wasn’t really reading.
He’d meant to read it, but then he’d just sort of stared at the pages and daydreamed.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Dean.” The Angel tilted his head in that bird-like way of his and perched himself on the edge of a chair, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Dean studied the page that he really hadn’t been reading and then slammed the book shut, “Nope. Not at all.”
“You’re sure?” Cas tilted his head a little more and Dean sighed.
“Yeah, I’m sure. You hungry?”
He was freakin’ starving. Sam had poured them two bowls of cereal that morning and he hadn’t eaten since.
With Cas on his heels like a lost puppy, Dean made his way into the kitchen and began rummaging through cabinets.
When he looked up, Castiel had posted himself at the table, chin propped on his fist, and was watching him.
“Uh, anything specific?” He gestured awkwardly. Eyes the color of a shade of blue to which Dean didn’t know the name pinned him to the spot. Staring intently was a particular trademark of Cas’s, but damn if it didn’t throw him sometimes.
“I will have whatever you are making.”
“Right. So, peanut butter and bacon sandwich then?”
He really needed to go shopping, he mused as he pulled the last of the bread from the cupboard. They were out of pretty much everything except alcohol and frozen burritos. Not exactly a diet of champions, even by his standards.
He threw the last of the bacon into a pan and reached for the peanut butter.
“Why would you put meat and peanut butter in a sandwich?” Cas asked suddenly, frowning.
Dean jumped, nearly throwing the jar into the air, because for a moment he’d forgotten Cas was even there, too engrossed in his mental shopping list.
“Jesus, Cas, buddy.”
Cas blinked, raising one eyebrow.
“And because it’s good.” Dean tacked on before coming to the next logical conclusion which was, “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve never had bacon and peanut butter?”
“No. It sounds,” Cas paused delicately, “Awful.”
Dean snorted. To be fair, it did sound like a strange combination of foodstuffs.
He waved one hand, “Wait and see.”
“Of course.” Cas replied.
He yanked the pan off the heat before the bacon burned entirely and groped around for a spatula.
“Dean?”
“What?”
The pan sizzled.
“Does Sam dislike me?”
He nearly dropped the bacon, which would have been an absolute freakin’ tragedy, “Huh?”
“Sam.” Cas paused, looking at him with a strange gaze even by Cas standards, “Does Sam dislike me?”
Dean stayed silent for a moment, fishing the bacon out of the pan while he tried to organize his thoughts. It hadn’t occurred to him that his brother would make his jealously that obvious.
Not to Cas, at least.
Dean could tell what Sam wanted for dinner before Sam even knew, so it was sure thing he could tell when Sam was jealous.
And Sam was jealous, even if he didn’t mean it. He depended on Dean for everything from emotional support to having clean clothes, although Dean had recently shoved some of that responsibility because Sam was freakin’ 35 years old and totally capable of doing his own damn laundry; especially now that they had a tenuous break from the whole saving-the-world thing.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I did not mean to imply-“
“No, it’s all good, man. I was just thinking.”
Cas pulled a concerned, questioning expression, the faintest touch of a smile on his lips, and Dean rolled his eyes, carefully laying strips of bacon on the bread so that every inch of peanut butter was satisfactorily covered in meat.
“Sammy… he never really got a hold on the whole, we’re separate people thing. Sure he’s all full of shit about how I never treat him with enough respect but the guy can barely fold his own clothes or make breakfast that isn’t cheerios.”
He topped both sandwiches with more peanut butter and bread before turning back to Cas, “He’s just all upset because he feels neglected.”
Cas took the plate Dean offered him but didn’t even look at it, instead pinning him with a concerned gaze.
Dean shifted uncomfortably, snatching up his own sandwich, grabbing two beers from the fridge, and sitting himself down at the table.
Cas’s eyes followed him and he and accepted the beer Dean handed him, “You are constantly worrying over him.”
“Yeah, well, he feels like you’re a threat.”
“I- I do not-“
“You’re not, buddy. Don’t sweat it.”
Dean stared at his sandwich, as though this conversation were all the sandwich’s fault.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Dean sighed and took a long drink of his beer. He’d just wanted some damn bacon. But the concerned look in Cas’s eyes broke any resolve that might have put the sandwich before the angel.
“Alright, it’s like this.” He drank from the beer again, “Sam’s jealous because he feels like you’re invading Rome, here, ok Cleopatra?”
“I am not Cleopatra…”
Cas hadn’t touched his sandwich, and for some reason that made Dean even grumpier, “No, dude, it’s a metaphor.”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Our bond of whatever-“
“It’s a profound bond, Dean.”
“-you and I got? It makes Sam feel unwanted because sometimes he’s a whiny little bitch who can’t handle being left alone for more than about five minutes at a time. I love the guy, but he doesn’t exactly have a handle on the whole “Get your own life” thing.”
A sad sort of look had crossed Cas’s face and he bit his lip, “Should I go?”
“What?” The floor swayed, “No. Nuh-uh.”
Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. Damn feelings. He hated feelings. They made everything way too freakin’ complicated.
“Look, Cas,” He scrubbed at his face with his hand, “I don’t want you to go, ok? You and Sam, you’re about the closest thing I got to family.”
“Ok.” Cas nodded and picked up the sandwich.
Dean nodded.
“This is very good.” Cas said through a full mouth and Dean laughed, “For an angel you’ve got terrible table manners.”
“We did not eat, in Heaven. Besides,” Cas swallowed his bite, “I am not an angel anymore. Not really.”
“You’re my angel.”
As soon as the words came out of his mouth his brain caught up with what was happening.
Ah. Fuck.
But the shocked gaze Cas pinned on him forestalled anything else he might have said.
“You think so highly of me?”
Dean nearly choked on his beer, threw caution to the wind, and sputtered out, “Dude, you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count. Besides,” He winked both to try and dispel the impact of the next words on his tongue and to steel himself up for it, “I ain’t letting your cute ass go anywhere.”
“My…” Cas looked down at his himself with a frown and then back up at Dean, “ass is cute?”
Dean buried his face in his hands and though he might die of laughter. Actually it would probably be asphyxiation at this rate he thought maniacally as he struggled to get in a proper gasp of air.
“Cas.” He managed once he’d calmed down a little bit, “Your ass is pretty damn cute. Hell, all of you is pretty damn cute.”
“I don’t…
Cas blinked and Dean rolled his eyes, “I’m so far gone it’s not even funny, man. I was fucked the moment I saw you. That’s really why Sam’s jealous. He can’t stomach the thought that, that” He sucked in a breath, dug his grave, and stepped into it, “That I could love someone else.”
“You.” Cas blinked again and then said, so softly that Dean almost didn’t catch it, “Me?”
“Hey.” He reached across the table to grab Cas’s hand, a whole explosion of feelings going off in his chest that he chose to resolutely ignore for the moment, “Yeah, you.”
“But... why?”
“Cas, man. Look at me.”
Pained, blue eyes met his gaze.
“Next to me you’re the hottest, kindest, most reckless dumb-ass I’ve ever met, and damn,” He whistled. What could he say, the habit died hard, “We’ve know each other for what, eleven years now? And yeah, we’ve had our ups and downs, but man,” Dean swallowed, the words nearly sticking in his throat, “You make my life bearable. Hell, you make it kinda awesome. So yeah, you. Always you.”
He was sweating.
Cas was wide-eyed.
Their fingers were still entwined.
He was so far out of his comfort zone.
This was a terrible idea.
He’d finally said it.
This was the day he died.
“Dean.”
He nearly bolted.
“Thank you.” Cas leaned forwards slightly and dropped his voice, “I feel the same.”
Something about the intonation made Dean hesitate. Cas was using his ‘flirting voice’.
“You mean it?”
Hurt flashed in Castiel’s eyes and Dean immediately wished he could take it back, but Cas answered first, this time in a voice Dean associated with life and death, “Yes.”
Dean believed that one. Believed it one hundred fucking percent.
He let out a whoosh of air and eased his death-grip on Cas’s fingers. Even part angel as he was, it couldn’t have been comfortable.
Sandwich forgotten, Dean stood from the table and rounded to Cas, never letting him go in the process.
Carefully, he tugged Cas’s hand until they were standing nose to nose.
Personal space had never been their forte, after all.
“When did you know?”
“When I betrayed you for Crowley, and you came to my aid anyway. I knew that… that I would always have your heart, even if I did not have your trust.”
Fuck.
“You should’ve come to me.” Dean whispered, unable to hold back the sudden flood of tears that threatened to break out of him.
He could feel Cas’s slower-than-human breath on his cheek.
“I did.” Cas murmured, “But you, you looked so happy with Lisa.”
“Dammit, Cas,” He groaned, “I was but man, I am always here for you. You tell me what’s going on, you got that?”
“I know.”
Tears spilled down his cheeks and he pulled Cas into a crushing hug, fingers curling into the angel’s sweater.
“I’m sorry.” Cas whispered in his ear, voice cracking, Dean lost it completely, sobs wracking his body as he held on tight, “You never leave me like that again, you got me? Never.”
Cas pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dean’s head, “Of course. I won’t.”
And then without warning Cas scooped him up and walked out of the kitchen. Dean blinked, uncertain for a moment, but didn’t move his head from where it was cradled against Cas’s shoulder.
An overwhelming feeling of safe engulfed him.
Cas carried him down the hall and into his room where he deposited Dean onto the bed.
Skirting about, Cas flicked on the lamp and then closed to door to the room before planting himself at the foot of Dean’s bed, “I promise.”
Already teary and embarrassed, Dean buried his head in his hands, “Damnit, Cas, stop making me cry.”
“Crying is nothing to be ashamed of, Dean.” Cas reached out and put his hand on Dean’s leg.
He jerked away from the touch and Cas pulled back like he’d been scalded.
“Shit, no it’s fine, I just.” He licked his lips and swung his legs off the bed, scooting over so that he was knee to knee with the angel, “Dad used to do that.”
“Oh.”
“He wasn’t all bad you know.” Dean mumbled, ducking his head.
“Sam says otherwise,” Cas stated, his eyes so full of concern that Dean had no idea what he’d done to deserve.
“Yeah, well, Sam…” Dean sighed and swiped the tears from his face with the cuff of his shirt, “Sam gets to say that, you know? I took most of the shit. I’m the one who got crap so that he didn’t have to. I didn’t get to be a kid, Cas. It was always me or him.”
Dean couldn’t bring himself to meet that blue-eyed gaze.
“Sammy got to have a childhood because I put myself between him and Dad. He never saw the worst of it. I made sure of that.”
Fingers gently turned his chin up so that Cas could look him in the eye, “Dean, you shouldn’t have had to do that.”
Twenty five years of pent-up emotion flooded his body and Cas smiled sadly, “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up.” There was no bite behind the words, just decades of memories he’d never allowed himself to cry over as Cas scooted them up the bed and pulled Dean into his lap.
And hell if he wasn’t angry. Sure, John had tried his best, and Dean had made peace with what shreds of childhood he’d ever had, but he was still angry. Somewhere, buried deep with all the rest of the trauma he refused to deal with, he was still angry.
“Your soul is beautiful.” Cas murmured, as though he were somehow completely oblivious to Dean’s train of thought.
Or maybe he knew exactly what was going on.
Either way, Dean just curled himself tighter against Cas’s chest, fingers digging into the sweater as he sobbed with reckless fucking abandon.
Because there was nowhere safer in the world than in the arms of his angel.