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Castiel suddenly knew. He knew what a demon felt like as it died.
warm and glowing and bright, soft as the sunkissed wind blowing through his hair. at peace. he needed- he needed Dean to be at peace.
But selfishly, always selfishly, Castiel wanted Dean for himself. He wanted those eyes squarely on him, dark and wanting like he knew they were, like they always were when Cas tried. Shimmying out of his normal suit pants and into softer slacks, he surveyed the room with satisfaction. Good.
Dean knew Cas. He had feelings for Cas. Cas had seen it plain as day before the empty tore away at him. And he knew it when he gasped awake, again, looking at familiar eyes. Dean loved him. Like Castiel loved Dean. And that was weakness- greed- to want the look of relief in Dean Winchester’s eyes.
He- he wanted.
‘Picked a helluva time to raise God, Sammy- uh.’ Dean looked at Castiel. Castiel stared back. ‘What in the fuck is going on here?’
He walked in nervously, like a kitten. Cas had chosen Dean’s room for his- well, not seduction, Castiel had nothing more sinister planned than kissing. His final try. He was on Dean’s bed, comfortable in his favorite clothes. He felt like his heart was rising like helium, glowing bright. It was incredible. ‘You remember what I said to you before I was sent to the Empty,’ he said, voice coming from somewhere deep, deep in his chest.
Dean had the prettiest eyelashes. At a younger age and now. Dean had certainly not lost his looks. ‘What? That I taught you how to love our- a, the family?’
There was something in those words that bloomed Castiel’s heart into rose petals again, soft to the touch and fragile. Our family, he’d said. Like one day- one day, they would carve the turkey together and roll back to a room they shared. A desperate, clawing fantasy in Cas’s mind. This romance was nothing out of the ordinary.
‘I told you I loved you.’ Miraculously, his voice was clear.
Dean’s face was hung in the air, a delicate ornament of not-quite-belief. ‘Yeah- yeah, but-’
Cas stood up, dusting off his fingers and moving closer. Candles lit the room more than was necessary. They were everywhere. ‘What’re you doing?’ Dean whispered roughly.
Up close, Dean’s face was beautiful. Spiderwebbed scars and wrinkles, a charming look in his eyes that was too, too familiar, and soft lips. Soft lips. Castiel leaned close. One hand went up to Dean’s neck and the other framed his cheek, caught in Castiel’s embrace. Mine.
‘I’m going to kiss you,’ he whispered.
Dean swallowed. Visibily. ‘Go ahead, then.’
And they kissed, and Dean’s hair caught in Cas’ fingers, and, and ‘I love you,’ in an iron voice. Back to Castiel.