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It started with an otter fact.
As most things do.
It was early one morning, both of them in the kitchen, with Dean cooking some eggs and Cas silently drinking his coffee: black, with two sugars.
His hair was a mess and he sat wearing his usual ‘I hate early mornings, how could you have dragged me out of bed at this ungodly hour’ scowl.
Although he’d never admit it aloud, Dean lived for that scowl.
This was the way it was now. Dean would get up earlier than he ever had in the past, and straight away would put on the coffee. He’d then start on breakfast, usually consisting of eggs and some form of fried meat. Although, he’d recently started making pancakes and waffles at the weekend - per Cas’ request.
As the breakfast would cook in the pan, he would make his way softly down the corridor and knock on Cas’ door. If he was feeling brave he’d poke his head in, but that usually came with the risk of getting hit in the face with a pillow. He mostly felt brave. It was worth it.
Cas would then begrudgingly come into the kitchen minutes after Dean’s intrusion, insisting on his morning coffee before he could even consider conversation.
Dean liked this. He liked the routine, he liked that he could depend on it to stay the same every morning. He liked cooking for Cas, taking every bit of praise he was given and storing it away to think about later; lying in bed with the warm tone of Cas’ voice echoing in his mind and lulling him to sleep. It was as close to normal as he’d ever gotten, and he was pretty damn happy with that.
Dean finished up the eggs and turned to the table to carefully place a plate in front of Cas, who murmured his thanks with a soft smile. Dean sat opposite him, quickly tucking into the food so as to hide the blush creeping over his face.
A few moments of companionable silence passed between them, both so engrossed with the food before them and enjoying the serenity of the morning.
“Did you know otters hold hands while they sleep so they won’t drift away from each other?”
Dean blinked.
Slowly, he raised his head to look at Cas, who was looking at him innocuously as he sipped his coffee. Dean wasn’t sure how to respond.
“That’s... cute?”
A warm smile broke out on Cas’ face.
“I thought so too.”
He then ducked his head and continued eating, as if he had not done a Classic Cas and dropped an unwarranted fact with no warning or reason. Dean stared at him for a moment longer before he shrugged and turned back to his own food. By now, he was well used to Cas being his weird self and providing tidbits of information whenever it struck him to do so. Particularly to do with nature.
And while he’d never admit it, Dean found it endearing when Cas did this. Nothing made Cas’ face light up more than when he was discussing the wonders of the earth and the strange habits of the creatures on it. Dean had never been one to be much interested in the stuff, but somehow Cas made it sound like the most fascinating thing in the world. Perhaps that was just him.
Perhaps it was seeing Cas so enthused about something so simple that made Dean’s heart flutter with soft adoration.
Dean had come to accept that there were things about Cas that would never cease to make his stomach flip or his heart to beat erratically.
Like his voice in the morning; deep and gravelly from sleep, or his ridiculous bed head that he swore got more disheveled with each passing day. Or when he tilted his head, his eyes squinting in confusion at something Dean said, the joke usually going completely over his head. Or how his hands had begun to linger on Dean a little longer than they had in the past, causing Dean’s breath to stutter more than it should have from a simple touch. (it was all he craved).
Perhaps they were drawing closer to the line they had been dancing around for twelve years. Perhaps Dean allowed himself to curl his arm around Cas as they sat on the couch, hiding vaguely under the pretence of having it rest on the back of the couch, yet allowing it to fall gently onto Cas’ shoulders as the night progressed. Perhaps their fingers would occasionally interlock in a moment of reassurance when all they both needed was the comfort of the other. Perhaps Dean would lean into Cas’ touch as the angel would fix his hair, letting his hand come to a rest on the side of Dean’s face and lingering as they both held their breath, just for a moment.
Once breakfast was over, Dean cleared their plates, bringing them over to the sink to wash them. Cas sidled up beside him, towel in hand, and wordlessly began drying the dishes Dean handed him. It was a scene of domesticity Dean had always craved yet never achieved, and to have it now, with Cas no less, caused a warm sensation to consume Dean wholly.
“The angel radio has picked up in the last few days.”
Cas’ gravelly voice broke the silence as he continued to stack the dry dishes. Dean stalled for a moment, a wave of resentment towards the angels washing over him, before returning to the dishes. He offered a hum in response to Cas.
“It seems that there are still a few things to be put in order in Heaven, and they’ve asked me to assist them.”
Though he kept his voice carefully neutral, Dean could pick up the apprehension undertone of Cas’ words, most likely aware that Dean would have some choice words to say about Heaven and where they can shove their “need for assistance”. However, Dean refrained from making any such remarks, aware that it would only prove in upsetting Cas, which was the last thing he wished to do. Still, he couldn’t help it when a slight hint of bitterness bled into his words.
“So you’re leaving?”
He felt Cas’ eyes on him, studying him as he kept his face neutral, careful not to betray his underlying hurt and worry.
“It’s only a few days Dean,” Cas began, “I just, - I need to help them. I owe it to them.”
Dean ground his teeth, desperate to remind Cas that he didn’t owe the angels jack shit for anything, in fact they were the ones who should be indebted to him. He longed to shake Cas and make him realise how much he was worth, to remind him that he was the reason they had defeated God and could now live a relatively normal life.
However, Dean bit his tongue, knowing Cas would only shrug off any praise Dean gave him, his stupidly humble nature forcing him to rebuff this truth.
Taking Dean’s silence as annoyance, Cas placed a hand on Dean’s arm, pulling gently on it until Dean turned to face him.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can Dean,” Cas said softly, his blue eyes boring into Dean’s, “I know you aren’t keen on me helping Heaven, but it’s what I have to do. You understand this, don’t you?”
Dean averted his gaze, shrugging his shoulders slightly. He understood why Cas felt he needed to do this, but that didn’t mean he was damn happy about it.
He felt Cas’ dry hand slip into his own wet one, bubbles framing their interlaced fingers. At Cas’ squeeze, Dean lifted his head to once more lock eyes with him, finding the angel gazing at him with a soft expression.
“I promise, I’ll be back on Thursday. And then you can subject me to another one of your favoured Western movies, and I won’t complain once. Would that be okay?”
Dean rolled his eyes fondly at Cas’ teasing smile, appreciating the angel’s effort to ease his discomfort, but still determined to appear grumpy.
“I will hold you to that you know,” Dean grumbled, pouting petulantly, but his small smile betrayed him. But Dean found himself not caring as Cas beamed at him, giving his hand one final squeeze before letting it go, returning once more to drying the dishes.
Yes, perhaps things were coming to a long-awaited close and neither were too concerned with fighting it any longer. Perhaps.
***
Thursday nights had become designated movie nights in the bunker. Each week they’d decide on a movie to watch, -(“No Dean, we’re not watching ‘Tombstone’ again”) -, and settle into Dean’s cave to watch it.
Sam had long since claimed the armchair, using his long legs as an excuse for needing a seat to himself, which made no sense to Dean but he’d given up arguing it. Jack usually took his seat on the floor in front of the couch, legs crossed and always sitting up excitedly regardless of the movie, his personal stash of nougat bars tucked neatly between his legs.
Which left the couch for Dean and Cas. It suited them both fine as it meant Dean could lean over and make jokes to Cas causing him to chuckle, and Cas could quietly ask Dean questions about whatever they were watching. The couch was snug enough, and since neither of them were small men by any stretch, this meant they usually sat pressed against each other, murmuring in the other’s ear throughout the movie. Neither complained about this fact.
They started the night later than usual that night due to Cas’ late arrival from his trip upstairs. He looked exhausted and Dean tried to convince him to take the night off, but Cas was adamant on not missing out on a movie night, insisting he was fine and not tired at all.
To his credit, he lasted about an hour into said movie before dozing off. Dean had been watching him out of the corner of his eye from the start; watched as he fidgeted and tried to get comfortable, saw his jaw straining in an attempt to fight off a yawn. Eventually his body began to sink more into the couch and lean to the side. Before long, Cas had let his head roll to the side, where it now lay on Dean’s shoulder, his face turned slightly into Dean’s neck, his breathing steady. Dean draped the blanket that had been on his knee over Cas as best he could and let his arm that had been resting on the couch behind his head rest on Cas’ shoulders, his fingers rubbing circles absentmindedly on Cas’ side.
He sat there content until the movie ended, stayed watching the credits as his brother and Jack picked themselves up and went to bed. Sam smiled knowingly but softly at his brother, giving him a light pat on the shoulder before he shepherded a sleepy Jack off to his room.
Dean himself was exhausted; the past few days of restless sleep catching up to him, (a regular occurrence when a certain angel was not in the bunker). He made a futile attempt to fight a yawn, scared that at change in his body’s tension might wake the sleeping angel. He’d gladly sacrifice a comfortable nights sleep if it meant Cas could go on snoozing on his shoulder.
He sat for a while, long after the credits had rolled, the TV now a blank screen. The only sound to be heard in the room was Cas’ steady breaths, the air hot against Dean’s neck.
At one point Cas shivered in his sleep and curled up closer to Dean. Worried that he might be cold, Dean reached for the blanket lying on the armchair, careful not to move too much as he stretched for it. He no sooner had it in his hand when Cas’ hand covered his own, clasping onto it tightly.
Dean looked down at the angel lying against him. His face was now firmly buried in the juncture between Dean’s shoulder and his jaw, his nose pressed against into the hollow of his collarbones. His muffled voice broke the silence.
“Stop drifting away.”
Dean stared down at him, unsure how to respond. After a moment, Cas lifted his head from Dean’s shoulder, his hair stuck up wildly and his eyes still half-closed from sleep.
They stared at each other for a moment, Dean’s heart beating rapidly as he took in the angel before him. Their hands lay laced together on Dean’s lap, somehow having become intertwined in the past few minutes. Neither made an objection.
Dean was unsure who moved first, whether he leaned down or Cas stretched up, but their lips met gently in the middle. Cas’ mouth was soft against Dean’s, his lips warm. Turning his head slightly, Dean deepened the kiss, letting his tongue dip into Cas’ waiting mouth as they explored each other. Cas’ hand lay on Dean’s chest as he leaned into him, his head tilted up towards Dean’s.
Cas let out a soft sigh as Dean’s hand that had been around his shoulders found its way to the back of his head, the fingers playing lightly in the short hairs on the base of his neck.
They pulled apart moments later, Cas leaning his forehead heavily against Dean’s, tiredness still deep-set in his body, yet a softness now replaced any hard edges from before. Dean continued to stroke his fingers through his hair, leaving soft feather-light kisses on Cas’ lips.
Cas’ fingers bunched in Dean’s shirt as he pulled him in for another kiss, firm and resolute, as if to say “I’m not letting you go”. Dean let Cas lead the kiss, content to hold the angel in his arms for as long as he’d stay there.
Eventually, their kiss was broken by Cas pulling away to let out a yawn, causing Dean to laugh fondly at the sleepy angel before him. Cas blushed lightly but a warm smile covered his face, his sleepy eyes brimming with unabashed adoration. Dean kissed him softly once more before pulling them both off of the couch to their feet. Cas swayed slightly on his feet, leaning into Dean as they stood, and Dean curled his arm around him, holding him securely against his side.
They made their way down the corridor towards Dean’s room, propped against each other in companionable silence. The door swung open and Dean led them inside, guiding Cas to the side of the bed and sitting him down before returning to shut the door behind him.
He turned around to find Cas lying on his back, still fully clothed, his eyes drifting closed once more.
Dean huffed out a laugh and made his way over, nudging the angel gently awake.
“Come on big guy, let’s get you into something comfier, alright?”
Cas let out a noise of complaint but sat up begrudgingly, his bleary eyes glaring at Dean half-heartedly. Dean kissed him lightly on the forehead before pushing the trenchcoat off of his shoulders, pulling his arms out one by one. The suit jacket and tie were next to go, followed by the shirt, which were all discarded into a pile on the floor. With a bit more effort, Dean managed to pull Cas to his feet, encouraging him with kisses as he helped him out of his trousers.
It took a bit more restraint for Dean to pull away from Cas this time, with his hands now resting on Dean’s hips and fingers pressing insistently into his skin, causing Dean’s breath to hitch at the contact. Still, Dean managed to escape long enough to discard his own clothes before grabbing a set of pyjamas for them both from his drawers.
Once they were both fully clothed, Dean guided Cas back to the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping under with Cas pressed up against him. He lay on his side, knees bent and Cas’ slotted perfectly behind. Cas’ arm curled possessively around his waist, holding him tightly against his chest, their fingers intertwined.
Once again, Cas buried his face into Dean’s shoulder, his breath sending warm waves across Dean’s skin. Dean drew soft patterns on the inside of Cas’ arm with his free hand, indulging himself in the feeling of utter contentment at having the angel pressed against him.
As sleep washed over them, they lay intertwined; legs tangled and fingers interlocked. A unity that had been long-awaited, yet worth every moment. They held each other, as tightly as they had wanted to for years, knowing that even as they drift off to sleep, they shall never drift away from each other.